Biker Babe

I’m copying an idea from Alice to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Shout out to Alice! The story of how I met my husband begins…

When I was seventeen, I hated boys. Especially boys my own age. My experience with the bullying, arrogant boys in my Christian high school had left me sure it was God’s will I remain single.

I even remember praying right before I headed off to college.

Dear Lord, You have made it evident it is Your will I remain single.
Please help me to make godly, female friends at college.
Help me not to be jealous as they get boyfriends, date, and get married.
Help me to be satisfied with my life as a single person.

I went happily to college envisioning my exciting future ahead as a feature writer for the Chicago Tribune. I would live in a high-rise building in downtown Chicago, write about interesting people, and make lots of money. I imagined I would have a little dog and enjoy living as a single girl in the big city.

When I got to Moody, I was surprised to learn there were actually NICE guys. In my entire experience I had only met two nice guys. One was my best friend’s brother, and the other was a boy I met in drama camp. Every other guy in my life had been a jerk.

At Moody, our dorm floor was paired up with a floor from the boy’s dorm – our “brother” floor. As I sat and ate dinner with these guys, I was impressed at how kind they were.

After a while, I developed what I thought was a “special friendship” with one of the guys. When he ended up breaking my heart, a scant two months after college began; I realized my initial vision had been correct.

I swore off men, again.

I went on with life, content. I had a fantastic, hilarious roommate, great friends, and my classes were challenging and exciting. I still ate dinner with our brother floor, laughed and joked with “the guys,” but I had lost interest.

In November, RACO (Resident Activities Council) created a social activity for the entire campus – Get Your Roommate Or Friend A Date, GYROFAD, for short. For weeks, the whole campus talked about GYROFAD (which is easier to say than type, I’m discovering).

The idea was to set up blind dates for the entire campus. If you thought a guy in your Systematic Theology class would be perfect for your roommate, you’d engineer the setup. And so on. The whole campus set the whole campus up on blind dates to take place on GYROFAD night.

I had a few friends approach me, but I was NOT interested.

A few days before GYROFAD, my friend Valorie came to me in a tizzy (if you knew Valorie, you would know this word fit her to a T). She’d set up a blind date for a guy on her brother floor with this girl he REALLY wanted to go out with, and in return he’d set her up on a date with Rick, this guy she REALLY wanted to go out with.

The other girl had unexpectedly become ill, and Valorie was worried her date with Rick would be called off. She begged me, “You’re the only one without a date. Please! Please!”

Valorie was (of all things) hard to say “no” to. So, I reluctantly accepted, figuring it would be another experience to chalk up.

As Valorie and I headed to our dates, I was already starting to think of ways to cut the date short. After all, I wasn’t even the girl this guy WANTED to go out with. Maybe we’d wait until Valorie and Rick went off on their own, and we could go our separate ways.

When we stepped inside the Arch, I saw two guys leaning up against the wall. The first guy had light brown hair, neatly combed back, deep blue eyes, and was dressed in a nice sweater and jeans.

“Well, maybe this won’t be so bad after all,” I thought, smiling broadly.

I didn’t know what Valorie saw in the other guy, though.

He was freakishly tall with shoulder-length hair, severely slicked back. He had a mustache/beard combo that left just his nose, eyes, and forehead visible on his face. He wore a black biker jacket and cowboy boots with spurs.

I would NOT have been surprised to learn his name was “Spike.”

The thought crossed my mind that maybe Valorie liked bad biker dudes. I turned to Valorie, just as she introduced Biker Dude as “your date, Brett.”

My date? MY date?

If looks could kill, Valorie would have been taking a dirt nap.

Within minutes, three normal-looking people and a Biker Dude were on a double date.

After a half-hour, Valorie and Rick decided they were hitting it off well enough to go off on their own. Leaving me and Biker Dude alone, looking at each other.

“Well,” I said. Planning the next words to be, “I guess I’ll see you later.”

But before I could get them out, Biker Dude asked if I wanted to go out for hot chocolate. He smiled at me (all I could see were teeth), and I thought, “What’s the harm in that?”

As we sat on the top floor of a scenic Chicago restaurant sipping our hot chocolate, we talked about our lives. Before I knew it, half the night had passed.

We raced back to Moody, barely skating in before curfew.

My roommate asked me how the date went.

“He was a nice guy.” I commented, thinking I’d never see him again. I figured he’d eventually make a date with the girl he’d wanted to go out with in the first place.

So, I was surprised when he called the next night and asked for another date.

Over the next four years, we dated – cried, laughed, screamed, argued, agreed – and chose the path that led to love, engagement, and marriage.

Our blind date was God’s perfect plan and I thank God every day for giving me Brett.

Behind the biker jacket, spurs, and all that hair was an amazing man. Brett is kind, sensitive, loving, affirming, patient, affectionate, a good listener, and actively loves me every day.

However, I still maintain I never needed a man.

Apparently, what I needed…was a Biker Dude.