They say that the scariest day of your life is that day that you move out on your own. For me, that day came in the year 2012.
When I was 17, I graduated high school in Atlanta, Georgia. I had gone through school at the right pace until high school, when I was allowed to skip 10th grade, thus allowing me to graduate a year early. So, after graduation, I went to the University of Georgia, on an academic scholarship. I graduated college when I was 21. And so began my life. I got on a plane to New York City the day after graduation. Now, most people go to New York with dreams of being a broadway star, a rock god or something of the like. But no, not me. I was on that plane with one thing in mind- to get more knowledge.
Yes, that's right. I was going to New York to study. It was my goal to take classes in every subject I could think of. I had been accepted to Columbia University to do just that. For my first year at the school, my classes were women's studies, environmental studies, early childhood education, journalism and architecture.
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Most people warned me that New York City was a big and scary place, and yet there I was, 21 and alone. I got to Columbia, was led to my dorm, introduced to my roomate (her name was Rachel, by the way) and left on my own. The first night there was a little rough. It had been a long flight, and I was tired. I decided to just walk. I came across a bar, and decided to go in.
It was cute. Not like most of the loud, obnoxious bars in Georgia. It was called McLaren's Pub. As soon as I walked in, I knew that I would be spending many nights there.
I sat down at a booth, not too far from the bar. After I'd placed my order, a burly bartender came up to the booth.
"Miss, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move. This booth has been reserved."
Not wanting to start anything, I graciously got up and moved to a different seat. One of the guys from the table winked at me as he sat down. I rolled my eyes, and went back to reading my class schedule.
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The next morning, I went to my first class of the day, architecture. I had never really been interested in the subject too much, but I decided to give it a go. My teacher, Mr. Mosby, was obviously very popular with the students. I noted him as being a little snobby.
After a long day of classes, I headed to McLaren's, hoping to read over some homework I'd been given. I sat at a booth far away from "The Forbidden Seat" as people called it.
"Excuse me miss, but I couldn't help but notice that you're reading a book on journalism." I looked up to see the guy who had winked at me the night before.
"Yes, I'm studying it at Columbia this year."
"Well, not to brag, but I happen to be quite a good journalistic subject." He seated himself beside me, straightening his tie. "Barney Stinson's the name."
Long story short, I went home with him. He convinced me that he would call me first thing the next day. He never did.
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For quite a while after the whole "Barney" incident, I stayed to myself. I was kicking myself for falling for his tricks like that. I was sitting at McLaren's when everything just got overwhelming. Before I even had time to think about it, I was sobbing.
"Hey...hey. Are you alright?" Mr. Mosby was standing in front of my table now, holding out a napkin for me to wipe my eyes. His eyes widened when I looked up at him. "Ashlyn?"
"Hey Mr. Mosby. I'm fine, just got some stuff going on right now."
"Why don't we go for a walk and talk about it. You seem like you don't have anyone to talk to."
We left McLaren's and started walking, with no destination. We laughed and talked, and I was having the best time I'd had in a long time. Sometime during the walk, he reached over and grabbed my hand. I hardly even noticed, it felt so natural. Finally we came to a stop in front of Columbia. And just as it was starting to snow, he kissed me, and it was like nothing I'd ever felt before.
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Our relationship was truly unique. It was frowned upon by some people, since it was a professor and a student, but we didn't care. I met his friends, and we went to McLaren's. Everything about it was just perfect. After a year of dating, he asked me to marry him. I finished up with my classes, and quit college. We shared his apartment and spent all of our time together. I got a job teaching music to underprivledged kids, and Ted and I had the most perfect life two people in New York City could ever have.
And that, kids, is how I met your father.