Lisa and I actually met on Valentine's Day. Now, don't get any ideas of Cupid hiding in a tree, both of us walking different directions through a snow-covered park, two well placeed arrows, and BOOM!, Amore.

Nothing like that.

I picked her up in a bar. Yep, there is no other way to say it. No glamour or glitz. In a dirty, smoky, bar.

I was out with my best friend in that specific bar because it was quarter tap night (as you can tell we were quite young and I would never use the "quite" in a sentence at the time). She was out with all her girlfriends celebrating "I hate Valentine's Day because I don't have a boyfriend". I knew one of her friends so I went over and tried all my tired, drunken pick-up moves that I have attempted hundreds of times and gotten to work tens of times. She hated me. Thought I was the most arrogant person she had ever met. But, remember, it's not arrogance, it's confidence. I didn't see Lisa for like a week after that night, then she walks into the restaurant where I worked. We talked for awhile and I officially ask her out. The rest is history. Nineteen years and two kids later, here we are.

Butch