The first time my husband saw me naked

WEDDING SEASON SERIES

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WEDDING SEASON SERIES |

I’ve always embedded myself within movies, playing out life’s possibilities in my head as the leading lady in the latest rom-com. Sometimes I even manufactured events just because I was curious if the guy would respond like the character did on screen (spoiler alert: they never did). But when the bartender I’d flirted with for the last 7 years is finally single and working my best friend’s wedding, assuming life does actually work out like a movie suddenly has some substance.

I’m 28. My best friend is getting married to her 10-year-long partner and I am her maid of honor. I look and feel great in my $400 Anthropologie floral, strapless, form-fitting dress. She told me he would be working as the bartender for the event, so I anticipated some of our typical antics; and because I was 3 years sober and living out of town, I hadn’t seen him in a long while and was looking forward to the tease.

I met him when I was newly legal to drink on my first bar-outing in my home town, celebrating a friend’s 21st. I wore black, lace, high-waisted shorts, a stylish, black racerback top, black boots, and classically 2010s gold accessories. I felt hot; and when he said, “this round’s on me”, that feeling turned into a fact. We didn’t interact much more than that that night, but an undeniable crush had formed.

Over the years, I would visit the bar, drink for free (thanks to him), and learn more about his life from afar. He had a long-time girlfriend, and though he didn’t exactly act like he was in a relationship, he never let anything happen between us because of his commitment to her.

Upon leaving the bridal party prep room, I see him exiting his vehicle. We make eye contact and immediately I go up to hug him.

“Wow, you look amazing!” he says, embracing me tightly.

“Thank you,” I say. “You look quite nice yourself.” He’s wearing a pseudo-suit, à la Gangs of New York, much more dressed up than his typical work-day wear. I say a goodbye as my MOH duties call and he watches me walk away from him before he resumes unpacking his trunk.

The wedding is beautiful. My best friend glows in her stunning bridal demeanor and her fiancé holds back tears as he exclaims his love for her. Everything is amazing.

After the ceremony, we make our entrances into the reception, and I see him again, smiling at me from behind the bar. I blush and find my seat next to the sweetheart table.

My friend’s new sister-in-law, who has known him since high school, provides a new, crucial detail to the night: he broke up with his girlfriend a couple months ago. I hide my interest and excitement at this information. So you’re telling me there’s a chance …

I feel extra shy throughout the night with him now that I know he’s single. As is my style, pining from afar is safer and I can avoid any hurt because I know nothing will happen. But tonight, that is not the case. We converse as he makes me mocktails and serves the other guests. I feel him watching me all night as I supervise the money dance, stylishly catch the bouquet, and treat the newlyweds to a classic karaoke performance.

With about an hour left of the reception, he closes up the bar and pulls me to the dance floor. I’m incredibly uncoordinated while he attempts to lead me around, but I enjoy the interaction. Most boy-girl dances I’ve experienced in my life were prom style swaying or rubbing my ass against someone’s dick, so this ballroom-esque movement is a nice divergence.

The remainder of the reception is spent dancing and talking. It’s probably the most we’ve actually interacted since the bar and the girlfriend were no longer between us. My intrusive thoughts of movie endings hit hard and I try to ignore them to not put too much pressure on this. In my experience, it’s never worked out that way, so I have to stay in the moment so that I am not later disappointed by him not meeting my Hollywood expectations.

Eventually, everyone leaves or makes their way to their rooms. We, on the other hand, find ourselves on a couch in the main room, conversing well into the morning hours. I’m still in my dress and increasingly uncomfortable strapless bra. I do have clothes and things in my room, but my parents are already asleep in there and I don’t want to interrupt this pretty perfect night, so instead I suggest we drive back into our town to my parents’ house where I can change and then say goodnight.

Getting into lounge shorts and a braless tee improves the already amazing night a hundred times over. It doesn’t take much convincing from him to get me to his house. We enter his living room around 4:00 AM to find a silent dwelling and we creep across the old wood floors to get to his room in the back. I later learned that his roommate was asleep on the couch, but we were so focused on our mission that we didn’t even notice him there.

Not long after donning these clothing items, he removes them. I stand there, naked, in front of him while he sits at the edge of the bed. Seven years of foreplay, seven years of wondering, and now we’re finally here. He runs his hands down my stomach and then moves them behind, touching my butt and thighs. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he breathes.

That’s what I need to hear. Our history has led us here and it’s absolutely perfect.

After we have sex, I ask for directions to the bathroom. I prefer to stay out of clothes as long as possible, so the idea of putting them back on only to remove them again once I get back into bed isn’t ideal. He explains that no one will be out there and I’ll be fine to remain in the nude.

I sneak through the still-silent house, navigating the kitchen and then finding the bathroom door. I pee and clean up any residual fluids, quickly wipe off makeup from under my eyes, and rinse my mouth out with water in an attempt to freshen up my breath. I smile to myself, thinking how crazy it is that I’m here, and open the door to head back to the room.

Upon opening the door, the couch-sleeping roommate groggily opens his eyes and sees my fully naked body walk ahead of him.

“Nice butt,” my husband says to himself before going back to sleep.

Obviously, my relationship didn’t work out with the bartender, but it did lead me to meeting my future husband. And because I did want the movie ending, I held onto that relationship far longer than I should have, but that allowed me to get to know the roommate better, which made me fall in love with him. You could say it was serendipity. You could say, I had him at butt.

Author’s note, in hindsight:

The woman who was with the bartender for those 7 years did not deserve the disregard or the disrespect that I showed her relationship while shamelessly flirting with her partner. We are now friends and have discussed this situation, but I do want to put it here as well. I was a young, hurt, confused, and selfish person during this time and I always rationalized it because it never got physical until after they broke up. However, emotional cheating and treating her as an obstacle rather than an actual person is just as bad and just as hurtful. For my behavior during those years, I am sorry. There is no excuse and I only hope that others would do better in those situations.

Also, thank GOD we met our husbands and no longer have to deal with this fuckboy behavior.