The Love of My Life

March 20

How I Met The Love Of My Life

I suppose you could call it fate, or kismet, or destiny…..or a complete fluke. Tomorrow is the anniversary date of the day we met, in 1970, when March 21st was still considered the first day of spring.   I LOVE stories of how people met. If you don’t, best to stop reading now.   Just thought I’d warn you.  It gets sappy. 

My daughter once said to me in utter frustration over finding a long term relationship – “You know that guy I’m supposed to meet who will sweep me off my feet and it will be love at first sight and we’ll live happily ever after?  Well I’m pretty sure he died in a plane crash, so I give up,  it is NEVER going to happen.”  Shortly after that little speech she asked a guy at a bar (a friend of a friend of a friend) to dance.  When he said, “So, tell me something about yourself,” and she said “I have two cats, I date a lot of guys, and I eat a lot of beans,” he found her fascinating.  That’s what he says.    They have been together ever since.  So with that bizarre beginning, if that’s not a match made in heaven, I don’t know what is.  She told her brother how she picked him out of a crowd, so to this day we refer to him as ”The Chosen One.”  Maybe you would have to know my regal daughter to get the full impact of how funny that is.

But of course it isn’t always about choices.  Sometimes you bump into someone and don’t know what hit you.  Or you can work yourself into a relationship gradually.  My mom and dad knew eachother all through school, and he jokes that he waited around so long she was the only one left.  I think its more like mom waited around for him to get a clue.  My son and daughter-in-law met in highschool, two very different people with different interests, and yet today they have one of the most loving and supportive relationships I have ever seen. So I don’t know how it happens or why, but here’s my/our little story. 

I had a friend say to me once that the only reason I went to University was to find a husband.  What a horrible thing to suggest!  Even though I don’t really know what I went for exactly and that’s one of the things I eventually ended up with.  But to put it so bluntly….sheesh.  Anyway, there I was, taking the subjects I liked – English, Psychology, Philosphy – with no clear objective in mind.  I loved to write, and I had a couple of papers coming due when my room-mate invited me to a party at residence.  I sighed a lot, and said no, and finally gave in on the condition that she not wander off on me, since I didn’t know any of the people who were going to be there.  So of course as soon as we got there she wandered off.  I joined a bunch of people sitting on a flight of stairs for want of something better to do.  Down at the bottom sat a long haired bearded guy strumming a guitar, head down, oblivious to everything but his music.  Found out later he had been nudged and prodded and persuaded by a buddy (who was at that particular moment nowhere to be found)  to attend this party, and that he hadn’t really wanted to be there either.   Some stair case dweller guy asked me if he could get me a drink, and while I waited for him to come back, which he never did, people just kind of drifted off until I was the only one left listening to the music.  While I was pondering my next move, or lack thereof, the guitar player looked up, saw his audience of one,  and stopped strumming.  We both said hi and grinned like idiots at eachother.  Finally he said “Got any requests?”  to which I replied with the first thing that popped into my head -  Do you know ‘Gentle on my mind’ by Glen Campbell ?  So. He frowned at his guitar, fiddled around with some chords, and proceded to play something I certainly couldn’t recognize as anything even vaguely familiar.  Suddenly he stopped and looked up and just said “Nope, I guess not.”  I don’t know why I thought that was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard.  In hind sight its just kind of stupid, but I was laughing and said “Good, because I don’t really like that song anyway,” which made him laugh.  He had a great smile underneath all that hair, and he made me laugh just about everytime he opened his mouth that night.  And not once was he trying to be funny.  That should have been a huge warning sign for me,  because can it really be a good basis for a relationship, finding humor in his confusion and utter sincerity?  But after a few beers (which he insisted were ales) I wasn’t paying attention to any warning signs.

Turns out he was a biology major, heavy into the sciences, and later I discovered I could help him out when he wrote his papers without ever understanding what the hell he was talking about.   I still don’t think even after all this time that he really gets my sense of humor and has just given up trying.  As long as I’m happy, why mess with it.  That night his buddy asked my girlfriend if he could take her home, and of course both of them had to drag the two of us along.  At one point he told me my grey faux fur jacket looked like a dirty polar bear hide.  (HA!  Really?  Have you ever seen a real  polar bear?) No, but this is like a fake one.  (I don’t remember what it said on the tag when I bought it, but I really think I might have remembered  if it mentioned fake dirty polar bear).  Do you know you have really beautiful eyes?  (Well.  Yes.  Who wants to discuss polar bears anyway.)   When we were standing together I mentioned that he was tall.  Brilliant conversationalist – I don’t know how he kept up.  And he said, no he wasn’t really, I was just short.  (I only appear short to you because you’re tall.)  How tall are you?  (I’m five foot four.)  That’s short.  (But only to someone who is tall.)  But you’re short to me, and I’m not really tall.  (So, how tall are you?)  It went on and on, with neither of us passing out from boredom.  I can’t explain why.  We said a whole lot of assinine things to eachother.   When I asked him what his last name was, he spelled it for me, although it is a name as common as Smith.  He asked me for my phone number when they dropped us off, and he wrote it down on the frosty windsheild of MY car.  So I really thought I’d never hear from him again.  But it turned out he had a good head for numbers.  And that there were a whole lot more stupid topics we needed to discuss. 

I asked him later what his first impressions of me were.  Hoping he’d give my brilliant mind at the very least an honorable mention.   He says he remembers my hair being almost as long as my skirt, and when I stood up at the top of the stairs and he was at the bottom, it was a breathtaking view.  (So…what else?)  Your skirt barely covered your ass.  (I think we’ve established that point.)  You were really up beat and happy.  I liked your hair, it went right down to your……  (And I was smart too, right?  Remember that big term paper I aced?)  Oh, yeah, you were smart,  and you had great, great legs.  (So, it was my brilliant mind and my sense of humor that attracted you to me, right? )  Yeah, that was probably it, he says, nodding reflectively,  with a stupid dreamy look on his face.   It’s why I love him.  He knows I’m always right.