Michael likes to believe that I was the one who pursued him. The REAL story begins my Sophomore year of college where I took a Music History class. I was with the usual crowd except, in the corner, I saw an unfamiliar face buried in a textbook. I will admit that I was curious about this man, but not for the reasons you believe. Wouldn't you also want to know what was so interesting about 18th century music on day one?

Anyway, months went by of him sitting in the corner talking to another peer of mine when finally he sat right next to me. We connected fast and I thought we were great friends! Michael, however, did not know my own name. You too would forget the name of the most beautiful girl in the room. I couldn't be mad about that. So I would let him walk me to class, the food hall, and even study with me every night before our exams.

When he finally got the courage to ask me out I didn't hesitate because after months of being treated like I was the most important girl in the world I did in fact catch feelings for this nerd. I knew he would be my person and here we are seven years later about to get married!

If you're coming from Jacquie's version of the story, I must warn you that she has managed to spin a yarn in which almost every detail is fabricated. The only thing upon which we agree is that we met in music history. Well, I can somewhat attest to that. You see, I didn't meet Jacquie until music history 2, though she met me in music history 1. She was so smitten, that she knew my name before we introduced ourselves. I had no idea of hers for many months after we started talking.

In music history 1, I was aware of her, as one is aware of everyone in one's class. I could identify her as a familiar face if I were to see her in public, but much beyond that I was clueless. I was a shy person, who sat alone in the corner of class. A different girl was seated next to me, and clearly the few words we exchanged, wholly related to the coursework, must have made Jacquie quite jealous, because come the next semester, I unwittingly found myself in a different seating arrangement. How she managed to get me sitting more centrally in the room, herself by my side, I still can't quite puzzle out to this day.

She made plenty of small talk with me throughout class. Admittedly, I did find her to be attractive so I obliged her advances, coming up with witty retorts of my own. However, her interest in me became quite apparent when she invited a group of peers from our class to study before an exam, and lo and behold, I was the only one apart from her who showed up (very subtle, Jacquie! To this day, she claims all the others were sick.)

I finally found out her name when we had a substitute and I saw the name she wrote down for attendance. It was thus that I called her "Jacqueline" for a month. Jacquie was baffled by this. No one had ever used her full name (unless she was in trouble) and typically opted for the sobriquet "Jacquie". Her infatuation with me had made her so addled that she had never introduced herself. Jacquie learned my name long before we'd started talking, so she hadn't considered I might not know hers and thus found it an absurdity to start with introductions on our first fateful encounter. Gosh, how uncultured and boorish to start a conversation with a stranger with an introduction!

By now her feelings were obvious, and through a semester's worth of history class together I had grown to share those feelings. I mustered up my courage and asked her out, and the rest is history.