I met Chelsie on November 12th, two years ago. From the instant when I first saw her, to the moment when she agreed to marry me, and everyday thereafter we continue to grow closer to each other. During these short years the moment in our relationship that stands out the most in my mind is the period during which we first started dating.
At this time we were both working in an old biker bar on the outskirts of a small town in southern New Mexico. I worked as a cook in the back, where I cooked (read: deep fried) all the typical fried bar foods, including frozen burgers, pizza and nachos. Chelsie worked as a bar tender, she continuously fought off the come-ons from the much older drunken patriots clad in ridding leathers and Harley dew-rags.
As a pair, we stuck out as both being very different from the usual crowd that inhabited the bar; actually, it was probably because of our adverse surroundings that our similarities and common interests became so apparent. Everyday I found comfort in Chelsie’s objection to the type of food we were forced to prepare and the manner in which the management conducted their operations. I always looked forward to work on the days when she was behind the bar and dreaded the days when she wasn’t. On the days we worked together we kept a distance in order to maintain a proper work edict, but a quick glance in her direction would help to put a smile on my face...
The rest as it were tries to meet the requierments of the assignment and gets a little technical with "comunications terms" and very much less interesting.
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