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.


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