Sophie Rockwell

One reason why Chicago is so special is because I share so many wonderful memories there with my husband. It’s where we reconnected after college and where our relationship blossomed. We met in our junior year of college and dated during our senior year. To tell that story, we have to go all the way back to college in 2008.

If I were to tell you the simplified version of when I met my husband, it would seem very ordinary. I met him in February of 2008 at a party at his fraternity house. My roommate introduced us and he said hello, shook my hand and let me put my beer in his mini-fridge. For me, this meeting was far from ordinary. I remember looking into his sparkling blue eyes and at the same time hearing a voice as we shook hands. “This is your future husband.” the voice said. For the longest time I never told anyone this. I know how crazy it sounds. It’s unexplainable and hasn’t happened since, but I did hear a voice and it wasn’t mine. It was a man’s low and quiet voice. I don’t know if it was God, a guardian angel or an ancestor, but it gave me chills. I played it cool even though I felt dizzy with excitement. 

I must have made an impression on him too because he called my roommate that night after we left the party asking for my phone number. However, he didn’t know we lived together and she caught him off guard by telling him I was right there and immediately handed me the phone. I could tell he was flustered and surprised when I said hello. He asked me for my number and when I asked if he was ready to write it down he casually said “Don’t worry, I’ll remember. I’m an actor. I have a good memory.” I laughed, thinking that was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard and that there was no way he was going to remember. Luckily he was right and I received a text message from him soon after we hung up. I was so excited and giddy my cheeks were sore from smiling. 

At the time we met I was in an on again off again, long-distance relationship that was currently ‘off’. Even still, for the first few months after we met, we were just friends. We would see each other out at bars and at parties with an occasional FaceBook post. The turning point was during a St. Patrick’s Day celebrations at a popular bar in our college town. We both went with separate groups which just happened to be seated next to each other. My ex-boyfriend had come into town to visit some friends and it seemed we were falling back into the on again part of our relationship trap. Luckily, destiny had its own plans and I ended up sitting between my ex-boyfriend and my new friend (and future husband).

He, unlike my ex-boyfriend, wanted to celebrate my birthday that had fallen over our college’s spring break and I happily joined him at the bar to do a celebratory shot. I’m not a big shot person. I’ve never been able take shots without almost vomiting, so he promised to buy a shot that wasn’t potent and said I would like a buttery nipple shot. It’s a horrible name, but he was right, it was good and there was no threat of vomiting all over this cute guy with beautiful blue eyes.

I remember how nice it felt to be celebrated and how I wished my ex-boyfriend wasn’t there, but also secretly hoping he would get madly jealous at seeing me take a shot with another guy. For some reason I felt like I had to try everything to make that relationship work, but it was honestly a waste of time and quite toxic. It was never going to work and I knew that, I was just in denial. I would have put an official end to it that night, but I didn’t. It had to run its course to let everything fall into place and to help me see just how special of a person this new friend was.