Intro.

Meet the happy couple.

See the hot one on the right? Yep, that's my wife.

Somehow I bamboozled her into marrying me. Some may wonder how. Well, I'll tell you.

I met her in a bar. Yep. A bar. Romantic? Hardly.

We met twice in a bar, actually. The first time I met her, I thought she was pretty hot (duh).

She was pretty friendly, too. If I didn't have my head stuck inside a beer bottle, I probably would have realized all that friendliness was actually her hitting on me. Ahem.

She emailed me a few times after that night in the bar. I was oblivious.

She was out of my league, older than me, obviously not interested.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

A year passed. I got over a relationship. I met some girls. Those girls were pretty cool, but something was missing. Wasn't sure what, though.

I came back to town. A little more clear-headed. A little more mature. A little more confident.

I walked into a bar, what would turn out to be my favorite bar, ever. She was there.

I smiled. She smiled. I took a seat at the bar, indifferent.

She came over, we talked. We talked for a looooong time.

The next day, an email. This time, I wasn't oblivious. This time I knew.

Plans were made. How about Friday? At the bar? Yes.

Want to know how I got the girl? It's easy. I lied.

Wait, I didn't lie. I just exaggerated, a little.

She mentioned she liked plays. I said I loved plays. She took me seriously and invited me to one. Gulp.

I went to the play. It wasn't bad (I didn't love it.)

After the play, we walked through a bookstore. We held hands, but then she let go. Bummer.

At the end of the date, she said, 'This was the perfect date.' My mouth? Agape.

That's how you get the girl, kids. You lie.