You could say I stuck my foot in my mouth the day that I met Michael. Or that I made an enormous fool of myself. No matter how you call it, I still can't believe the guy ever gave me a chance.

I had just finished up a softball game, and the team was headed up to our local bar for a few pitchers. As we walked in, I noticed a good-looking guy setting up speakers and hooking up wires, getting ready to play a guitar set. I'd been in a man-avoidance stage, so I didn't take much more notice - until he started to play.

He was amazing - just absolutely phenomenal on the guitar, and as he continued to play (and I continued to empty my glass) I started to develop a crush.

I leaned over to a friend and confessed my thoughts on becoming a groupie, but I must not have been as discreet as I intended to be. He stopped playing in the middle of his song and called out "What did you say?"

I had lost all shame by that point, so I repeated my confession aloud.

"I'd totally be your groupie"

Unfortunately, this isn't where I made a fool of myself.

He laughed and continued to play his song, and when the set was over, he came up to the table to chat. I hoped to shower him with a couple of complements and let him know how much I enjoyed his music.

"That was great," I said. "You are really incredible on the guitar."

He was humble, responding with a simple "Thanks."

I continued to blather. "They had this guy up here last week, and he was ok, but wow, you were just so much better than him."

He looked at me blankly for a second before he replied "Yeah, that was me."

I couldn't tell you what possessed him, but he got my phone number that night, and the next week I was back up at the same bar - only this time by invitation. Shortly after, we went on our first official date. After 8 months (and a lot of retelling of that story), I'm still unbelievably happy, and cheesily excited to spend our first Valentine's Day together.