My Love Story

One of the questions I get asked all the time is how Bill and I even met, since I’m from Green Bay, Wisconsin, and he’s from Burbank, Illinois. That’s about a four-hour drive, give or take traffic. Honestly, we’re two people who probably should never have crossed paths. This is part of what makes my love story so unexpected.

Bill went to college at the Milwaukee School of Engineering, and I went to the University of Wisconsin–Green Bay. Because the girl-to-guy ratio at MSOE was something like eight guys to every one girl, I used to load up carfuls of girls. We would drive down to Milwaukee on the weekends to party. I dated one of Bill’s friends for a short time, but when he moved back to Minnesota, that relationship ended. I had met a lot of genuinely great people at MSOE, though, so I stayed in touch with the guys there, including Bill.

The weekend Bill and I actually connected is one of those twists that could only belong in my love story. I was sick. Really sick. Like 102-degree fever sick. At nineteen, I didn’t go to the doctor because I knew antibiotics would mean no drinking, and that wasn’t happening. I figured I could make it through the weekend and deal with it on Monday. Plus, I had already promised a carful of girls I’d take them down to Milwaukee.

We arrived Friday night, and the guys took care of us like always. One of them, Jimmy, gave up his dorm room so all of us girls could stay there. Even though we technically weren’t supposed to be there at all, we snuck in. We went to the frat party, and I clearly remember asking Bill to make sure I didn’t hook up with anyone awful. At that point, we were just really good friends. He was the kind of guy you never think to date because he’s too nice.

We hung out at the party. I ended up hooking up with a different guy and even set up a date for Saturday night. Bill and his friends walked us back to the dorms, and everything seemed fine. Until Saturday night came… and I got stood up. I was miserable, sick, and completely crushed. Bill stayed up with me all night while we talked. I remember lying there thinking, Why didn’t I hook up with him? That moment turned out to be a quiet turning point in my love story.

On Sunday, we headed back to Green Bay, but Bill and I kept talking. We talked about that night, about what had happened between us, and about everything else. And somehow, that conversation never really ended. Eleven years later, we’re still together.

Those eleven years feel even longer because the first four were long distance. I was in Green Bay, and Bill was in Milwaukee during the school year. He was in Burbank during the summers. That meant anywhere from a two-hour to a four-hour drive, and we never spent more than a weekend together at a time. When I moved down in 2000, it was a huge adjustment. Suddenly, we were together all the time instead of counting down hours and miles. It wasn’t easy, but it became another chapter in my love story that we worked through together.

We’ve been married for six years this June and have a three-year-old, with another little one arriving in about eleven weeks.

And that, in all its imperfect, unexpected, long-distance, fever-ridden glory, is my love story.