How I Met My Husband

So this morning, after my 17-hour drive to work, I parked in my normal spot, unbuckled my seatbelt, tossed my empty water bottle into the plastic sea of similar bottles on the passenger seat and opened the door. My usual routine.

However, when I reached back for my phone in the cupholder, it wasn’t there. Now, I know I had my phone in the car with me because I had been listening to Hamilton on Spotify like I’ve been doing every minute of every day for three straight weeks. Regardless, I couldn’t find it.


I searched and searched for a solid four minutes to no avail. It was really strange and the fact that I knew it was in the car but not in my sight was giving me a headache so I gave up and went inside. My boss could tell I was baffled about something.

I told him about my situation and knew I sounded crazy so I said, “I know I sound crazy” and he agreed. But he’s nice so he offered to call my phone while I went back and continued searching. No luck.

I gave up and sat down, phoneless. It was immediately off-putting. Since I’m an ex-sorority girl living in Hollywood in 2016, I felt vacant, naked, purposeless without my phone. I felt like Tom Haverford in that one Parks & Rec. episode. All I wanted to do was snapchat my roommates with pictures of the pug who chills at the office because dogs are more like coworkers in this town.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not on my phone all day. In fact, I really only use it during the work day to answer my mom when she texts me about law school awards Sterling gets or how Jake has gotten taller and made even more friends (and of course to snapchat the occasional pug pic). So it’s not really the fact that I’m missing important texts or calls that makes me anxious. It’s just the fact that I don’t have my phone with me just in case today’s the day that Ellen prank calls me live on the air. Or something.

After a while, I accepted my predicament. I decided to do that thing where people detox from their phones and start noticing little things like how Tiberius, the pug, lays down all day and takes a total of about 10 steps in a nine-hour period. But before I could start observing things I already knew to be true, a man knocked on the door.


I went to answer it. As I began to turn the handle, everything started happening in slow motion. The door gently swayed open and I made eye contact with the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was tall with dark brown hair that matched his dark brown eyes. He wore a crooked smile across his exquisite face and I could’ve sworn he was James Franco.

I couldn’t get my brain to coordinate with my mouth for words, but I was content to just stand there and stare at him. He finally said “hi, I’m James Franco.”

It was then that I realized my mouth was open and I hadn’t blinked for a while. I finally uttered, “I’m Katie.”

“Hi Katie,” he said, through a dazzling smile. “I found a phone in the parking lot and I think it may be yours. It was by your car.” He hesitated and turned a little red. “I know which car is yours because I live across the street and every morning when you get out of your car, I watch you walk into this building. I can’t help it. You’re the most beautiful and graceful woman I’ve ever seen.”


I tried to smile and say thank you, but instead I jumped into his ready arms and shut the door behind me. He carried me off to the bakery next door where we shared our life journeys over pie and iced coffee.



By now you may have realized that this isn’t how my phone story ended. It didn’t fall out of my car, I can’t eat pie, and James Franco was not at all involved. When I went to go get lunch, I looked again and found my phone on the floor under my passenger seat. It was a bit anticlimactic, so I thought maybe if I put the better version in writing, it will come true the next time I inevitably lose my phone. Stay positive and good things will happen guys.


Because Monday

Today I decided to have a smoothie for lunch.

Upon ordering, I asked if they could make me a dairy-free smoothie. The young man said “sure, that’ll be $7.95,” to which I replied “I haven’t told you which smoothie yet…” This should’ve been my first clue that this was going to be a rough situation.

After a while, they called my name. But once I walked over to retrieve my smoothie, the same young man handed it to me with a nonchalant “it has milk in it, is that cool?” and then he turned around to go make another smoothie! – as if it was in fact cool that my dairy-free smoothie contained dairy.

“Wait, no, sorry I needed it to be dairy-free,” I said sheepishly as if I was the one who needed to earn back his trust. He said, – I kid you not – “there’s really not that much dairy in it. My mom drinks these and she’s lactose intolerant.”


Normally in these situations I just blankly stare at people, awkwardly laugh, apologize again and flee the building, all the while mentally spewing terribly clever comebacks but not vocalizing them.

But not today. I’d only had a mere three cups of coffee at this point in the day and I was in no mood to sit idly by and be slightly poisoned.

I said, through a gloriously condescending smile, “It sorta sounds like your mom may actually be tolerant of lactose.” Evidently I was smiling a little too genuinely because he laughed and let it roll off like a joke.

After his laughter faded, he looked down and we stood there in silence for a few seconds until again making eye contact. He then looked at the smoothie on the counter. Then back at me. Then back at the smoothie. Then back at me. I was experiencing a real-life Old Spice commercial. I gathered from his baffled, darting eyes that he expected me to just take the smoothie and leave. He verified this assumption when he began looking behind me at other people in line and waving them forward with a nod of his head.

I did not budge. And I refused to be the one to ask for another smoothie. I wanted him to offer it. Not because I am entitled, but because I am a psychopath. A hungry, lactose intolerant psychopath.

I stood there, head tilted like an adorably annoyed puppy, waiting for a chance to lock eyes with him and silently coerce him into making me a new smoothie. It took him what felt like years to finally realize I was not leaving with a smoothie that could send me to my grave (but only a little bit to my grave). “I mean… can I get you something else?”


VICTORY. I never win these situations. I was elated, but also knew I had to keep my cool. I couldn’t let him in on the fact that I never win these situations. For all he knows, I always win. I always get what I want (in terms of smoothies and virtually nothing else).

I ordered my new & improved smoothie (a different flavor – just to be safe) and again asked if it could be dairy-free. He said “sure!” and by his blind willingness I could tell that he didn’t even realize we had a situation.



Long story short, I finally got my dairy-free (as far as I know) smoothie and with it, a sense of conquest. When it comes to frozen treats, I will never give in. Even if my opponent is unaware of the battle. The lesson here is probably to lower my intake of caffeine before noon, but regardless, I won this situation.