Here’s where we say some sappy stuff about our relationship. And you’re in luck because we’re pretty sappy.
We should live in Vermont. (Or maybe Wisconsin for that cheeeeesy pun?)

How We Met:

Once upon a time I found a giant toad. When I kissed it, Chris appeared! It was crazy! But awesome.

Refer to photo evidence here.

How We Actually Met: Libby’s Side of the Story

In February of 2010, it was 14 degrees inside my residence, lovingly dubbed “The Kitty Castle”, a quaint 3 bedroom 1920s house in Tobin Hill with charm abound but zero insulation. Despite capitalizing on all of the warmth my two kittens and one small space heater could provide, I spent as much time as possible at the houses of friends. Frequently at the little poster laden apartment of my good friend, then-funemployed and perpetually available Chuck Kerr. One particularly blustery evening Chuck said “Hey, so I’ve been playing drums at these little cover gigs a friend of mine plays over at the Broadway 5050. You should come by!”
The fateful 25 or so words that would change my life forever! When I arrived it was basically the premise of the song, “Killing Me Softly” (for the sake of brevity, [for apparently the only time for the duration of this story] I’ll let you google that yourself…I’ll wait.) Who was this angel voiced charmer playing all of my favourite songs heartbreakingly spot on? And where did he come from? Why was he not included when we went through all of Chuck’s facebook friends looking for potential dating material? Chuck just responds “You said No Beards!” Damn this is true. This guy has a beard!

Shortly after we met that night, I go to see a gig that his band is also playing at the Limelight (Melissa and I practically lived at this bar for 5 years). After the show and some liquid courage, Chris comes over to say hi! It’s his birthday! We share a great conversation and he invited me to the after party at his band’s “Treehouse” (At this point I felt I made an ass of myself getting excited about this treehouse because I myself just a few months before had moved out of a treehouse. So named because it was a tiny studio built atop an old shed surrounded by trees on all sides. Only for him to have to stop me to inform me that their house isn’t a literal tree house. “Get it? The band is called Blowing Trees and we all live in a house together. har har”)
I had to decline the offer for the afterparty because I was leaving at 7 am the next morning to fly to Conneticuit for an epic roadtrip adventure with Kristin Elliott. I got home, realized it was freezing, I was already packed and couldn’t sleep. So I changed my mind and decided to trek down the road afterall to see what this treehouse was all about. I arrive to a house brimming with music and laughter (much to his roommates chagrin I later learn). Everyone is taking turns playing Beatles songs, passing around a guitar and other various instruments. When it gets to me, I shy away. But after a few drinks I join in, request the guitar and play Blackbird to Chris with chorus of treehousers. At about 3 I got shooed out with the rest of the party, which was probably for the best since I had a flight to catch in about 4 hours.
Fastforward 2 weeks, post snowy roadtrip, I’m invited to another treehouse party! This time Chris and I talk all night and I invent a game that involves rolling a bear on wheels down the hallway through various hoops and obstacles. As the sun rises, the few that are left at the party went to get tacos then parted ways. As soon as I get home, Chris has messaged me on facebook to say he was glad I came over. We ended up chatting for another two hours before I said “CRAP! I have to get some sleep. I am hosting an Oscar’s party with my mom tonight!” I politely offered that he could come, never expecting him to actually want to come to a party at my mom’s house after we had just met. This story is getting too long, so I’ll just say – He did! He arrived with Chuck and our friend Avery but he sat in the back and didn’t say more than 2 sentences to me all night. Since he lived close to me, I offered to drop him off on the way home. We talked feverishly in the car about the films and life but when I dropped him off he just said “ok Thanks, bye!” I drove home thinking, I guess I must’ve been reading this whole thing wrong. I thought for sure he would ask me on a date or something. Then, as I park my car, I get a text that says “I meant to say I love your smile.” And the rest is history. For all of you who read through this entire story, you get an A+ and a high five next time I see you. Congrats on being awesome and having an impressive attention span.

How We Actually Met: Chris’s Side of the Story

The first time I met Libby Wardlaw, she sold me Bruce Springsteen’s album Nebraska on cassette tape at her old record store, Music Town on their final night open. I had seen her there once when I had played keyboards with my old band on the night they performed there a month or two before, but i had not gotten a chance to talk to her then. This time I had gone to see one of my favorite local bands, Buttercup and she was there working the counter. I remember getting that tape even though I did not have a cassette player. (still don’t!) But I used to really love cassettes and I loved that album so I went for it. I forget what she said exactly but I ended up referring to Bruce as “the boss” as I tend to do, and she did not know what I was talking about. I remember thinking she was really pretty and interesting but she was sad about the store closing. That night while Buttercup played I remember her sitting on top of the counter staring at the floor and wanting to give her a big hug.

A few months later she came to see Chuck Kerr play drums with me at my weekly Wednesday night gig at Broadway 5050 and we talked. On my 26th birthday I played keyboards with Cartographers at Limelight with Morris Orchids on a very cold evening in February. It was a great night and I was going to have people over at my house after the show and I ended up talking to her at the end of the night and invited her over but she said she could not come because she was going out of town in the morning. We were all sitting around passing the guitar and playing organ and then she showed up! And I remember the moment I knew I was super into Libby was when she busted out The Beatles’ “Blackbird” on guitar. I remember being blown away and that I wanted to hear more.  A week or two later I had people over and she came and we ended up staying up super late rolling a bear on wheels down my hallway till the sun came up. (true story) My life has never been the same since the day she sold me Nebraska.

Our First Date!

Our first date was a pretty telling as to what the rest of our relationship had in store: Hotdogs, The Spurs & late night jam sessions.

We went to the now defunct Frankfurter Express, an adorable family owned hotdog parlor that had the most wild array of hotdog varieties one could imagine. (Since it was less than a block from my house it became our go-to staple for the next 3 years. A great meetup spot that was not so great on our waistlines) While enjoying our dogs on the little porch with the cool breeze, Chris told me (unprompted, I swear) “I’ve been thinking about shaving this beard. Would you still like me if I didn’t have a beard?” I thought about it for a while before admitting, I’m actually a notorious beard hater! He acted really embarrassed and said something about how he wishes he had known and he would have gotten rid of it. (As straightforward a person as I think of myself, I’m still not to the point at which I will ask a man I hardly know to shave his beard before he picks me up for a date.)

From there we went to watch a Spurs game at Joey’s a little bar off the St. Mary’s Strip with a quaint indoor balcony that gives a great view of the big screen showing Ginobili kicking ass and taking names. After the game we went back to my house and played guitar for hours only interrupted by Victoria stopping by to say hi and tell us of her awkward date at a art show called “Bike Porn”. We played all our favourites back and forth and then exchanged the most embarrassing songs we knew. Chris sang me “Walking in the Air” from The Snowman and we joked about my 16 year old self encapsulated in my livejournal. As we listened to Sigur Rós , he turned to me and asked “Libby, would you consider kissing a guy with a beard?” And the rest is history. When I went to see his band the next day, his beard was gone. Chuck walked up to me and said “What Happened to Chris Maddin? You got to him, didn’t you? I always know when you’ve gotten to a guy because his beard just mysteriously disappears!” Libby Wardlaw – Saving the world one scratchy beard at a time.