Rodney hates getting the question of where we met. Because in his mind, the office is the least cool place to meet your future wife.
I, on the other hand, disagree.
It was 1999 when I first laid eyes on his tall and lanky frame. I was fresh out of school, eyes wide open and exhilarated about moving to New York City.
If you really want to hear about uncool stories, you could rewind the tape 9 months to my Senior year in college, when I could be found holed away in our campus library, applying to a slew of fine institutions like Lehman Brothers and Bear Stearns. In my free time, when there was any, I’d relax in my room watching my two favorite movies on repeat: Wall Street and Working Girl.
Recognizing that I may have just lost half of my readers with this story, let me try another tactic:
