What's your love story? Joe and Pat Davis

On the third Thursday of August after afternoon practice at the University of Utah, Pat’s sister introduced her to a group of my teammates and me two weeks before classes began. Our first dance was on the third Saturday evening of August at the Welcome Back to School Dance for all residence hall students and friends at the Van Cott Student Lounge. On the fourth Monday Pat joined me and my five buddies for our first lunch date at the cafeteria.

Later in that week, it was take a stroll through the golf course. We stopped at a tree, and I climbed to the first branch, sat on it and then rolled backwards and hung upside down. Somewhere during that hanging conversation, it happened – our first kiss, and the dam broke.

Our first confrontation and redirection took place as Pat deliberately stepped forward, right in front of me saying with pursed lips, “We need to talk.” So, there I was, standing toe to toe with Pat trying to figure out what was going on. I started a conversation. At least, I started to start a conversation. Did I use the word befuddled before? This time maybe perplexed or even confused.

Right then Pat tightly clinched her fist, leaving the pointer (or poker) finger sticking out and immediately began to forcibly poke me in the chest, thump! thump! thud! Hard! As she gave me the third degree she loudly asked, “Are you or are you not going with me?” I was immediately taken aback. I paused briefly, assessed what I figured had just happened and sheepishly replied, “Suurre, that sounds pretty good to me.” Well, she was on my radar for about four-ish days, followed by the agreed determination that we’re going together. That was quick; it was surprisingly easy; it was pretty much full-time outside of football.

From the very beginning it was magic, literally living the dream, and has been so every single moment since. It had been a whirlwind. Now, just the second week after we first met, it was evening, and we were sitting in the corner, on the floor, back to the wall, by the door to the breezeway leading to her dorm.

She talked, I talked, but this was mostly one of those more serious conversations. Pretty soon we began to talk specifically about each other: I like this about you; you like that about me. And then, seemingly right out of the blue, “I could marry someone like you.” “I could marry someone like you, too.” “Let’s get married.” And the rest is history so to speak.

The next few months flew by for us: dates, announcements, visits with Pat’s parents in Orem, more dates, rings, setting dates, cakes, pictures, some school, football and wrestling, marriage, graduation, job search, teaching, coaching, dancing, family, kissing on every state capitol building step, every store from Fourth South to First North, both sides of State Street, Living the Dream.