I met my husband when I was burglarizing his house. Or maybe I was robbing it. Is there a difference? I mean, in “Law & Order” – which I watch all the time because I am slowly morphing into my 92-year-old grandmother; another column entirely – um, in “Law & Order” they say burglary. But then I’ve heard some say robbery. Also? Homicide – but I’m very, very certain that did not come into play the night I met Harry.
On the other hand, I have considered the homicide aspect several times since we met. Again, that’s a column for another day. Or not. Considering it could be used against me in a court of law.
Anyway, I was burglarizing/robbing, but not murdering anyone the night I met Harry. Specifically, my friend Carol* and I had nothing better to do one week night. Apparently, the siren call of homework our first year of school wasn’t that interesting to us.
So we instantly turned to a life of crime.
We decided to go steal the letters off the nearest fraternity house. And yes, I can assure you that we were completely sober. Which probably explains why we thought it was a good idea in the first place. In any event, we dressed in all black, Carol grabbed a screwdriver and we left our house to go on a crime spree.
Sadly, the nearest fraternity house had letters that were too high for us to reach. You see, the only burglar we’d ever come in contact with during our very young lives was the Hamburglar. So we had no idea what tools were necessary for your average residential burglary and we forgot a ladder. Also? In retrospect, having a getaway car would have been nice.
We moved on to the next fraternity and their letters were perfect. We didn’t need a ladder because there was a ratty chair plopped sideways on the dead front lawn. Carol climbed up and started unscrewing the letters while I was the lookout. (At this point, I’d like to tell you that my Catholic school upbringing came into play and I had second thoughts about committing a crime, but that’s not true. The truth is, I am short. Carol is not. Therefore, she had to climb on the chair.)
Sadly, I am not a good lookout and that is how we were caught. Or it could have been when Carol reached way too high, nearly fell off the chair and screamed at the top of her lungs “#$%#@ Laurie, get over here and hold the chair!”
Anyway, before I could rescue Carol, there were like a million fraternity guys rushing out the doors. Or maybe it was just one or two, it’s hard to remember what with the chair falling over and Carol trying madly to toss the letters into some bushes and then run away and me just standing there like a deer caught in the headlights. (And … there’s that Catholic school upbringing coming into play.)
Harry caught Carol, who unfortunately had put the screwdriver into her back pocket, where it stabbed Harry when he grabbed her. He yelled, released her and then grabbed me. I did not like that one bit. I did not like Harry one bit. And after we gave the fraternity back their letters and Harry asked me out, I still did not like him one bit.
So he started a full-on campaign to get me to date him. Which I admit was kind of flattering. Although I still did not like him one bit. And then one night, we sat at the pub, playing quarters (yes, I admit that at this point alcohol was involved). And he gave me a ride to the “Rocky Horror Picture Show,” where supposedly we were meeting friends who never showed up.
But somewhere between “Time Warp” and “I’m Going Home,” I realized this guy, whom I did not like one bit, was actually a sweet guy. After that we were inseparable. Three years later, we were married.
And you know what? I still sort of like him. One little bit, of course.
*No, her name hasn’t been changed to protect the innocent, because in all honesty the entire burglary was HER idea, so she’s not innocent.
