How I Met your Mother

So kids, you're probably wondering how I met your mother.  Well, that's a long story.  Let me go back to the beginning.  I was born in New York.  Well, not that far back.  Over the summer of my 10th year prior to starting 6th grade, we moved to the Chicago suburbs.  All of my new found friends were into girls.  Back in NY, girls still had kooties.  But, I adapted.  That's how I roll.  Anyway, it wasn't until after 6th grade, when I attended Henry Horner day camp, that I meet your Mom.  For 2 years younger than me, she was very sassy.  We didn't exactly hit it off -- although she was very cute.  Besides, if we had gotten married then, you'd be 32 and 35, probably with your own kids.  As it turned out, she was enrolling in the same middle school, Twin Groves, that I was attending.  So we went to middle school and even high school together.  We never got together, however, because even though I had a crush on your Mom, I was too shy and she was too cool for me.  She ran with the Pom Pom girls while my friends strayed on the nerdy side.  So, I went to college in St. Louis and your Mom in Arizona, and we would never see each other again.

Wait, that's not exactly true.  For after college, I returned to Chicago to work and your Mom went to California.  But one bitterly cold October, your Mom came to Chicago to be in her friend Lori's wedding (since divorced).  We ran into each other in a bar near Wrigley Field, called the Gingerman.  We even went for a bite to eat at the Melrose Diner.  Well, even though it was October, a great blizzard came-a romance miracle.  I offered your Mom some boxers, a t-shirt, and a place to stay, utilizing the excuse that she shouldn't drive out to the suburbs in the horrible snowstorm.  I wound up crashing Lori's wedding with your mom.   A 3 month long-distance courtship ensued, before your Mom moved in with me.  And the rest is history.