This is a continuation of my previous posts:
- A ‘love Story, Part 1: Love with a Capital L,
- A ‘love’ Story, Part 2: My List of Fatal Flaws
- A “love’ Story, Part 3: The Inevitable Flaw
- A ‘love’ Story, Part 4: OK, Funny Is Good
- A ‘love’ Story, Part 5: A Woman’s Gotta Do What a Woman’s Gotta Do
- A ‘love’ Story, Part 6: “I guess she’s glad to see me…”
I hope you’ll read them first.
Life is what happens when you aren’t paying attention.
I can hear you asking, “But what happened?”
Well, we dated and got to know each other.
I’d been thinking to myself, this guy obviously has some depth. He was able to get past my awful red nose and bullfrog voice. He later admitted he didn’t really notice those because he was distracted by my cleavage. Huh. So much for depth.
He also admitted that the reason he’d waited two weeks to call was because he was terrified. He’d been practicing in front of the mirror, using his best matinee idol voice. “Hi, remember me from the plane?” No, no, that was lame. “Hello there.” Oh, so not him. And so on. It had taken him two weeks of dialing, hanging up; dialing, hanging up to finally make the call.
I admitted that after becoming convinced he wouldn’t call at all, I’d have been happy if he’d sounded like Elmer Fudd. Well, OK, maybe I lied about that.
And I also admitted my predisposition to a red nose – from colds, the weather, wine, you name it – would continue. My cleavage (given my age, gravity and all) likely would not.
A little over a year and a half later, we moved in together (“shacking up,” to quote one of my smart-ass kids). I think that, basically, he got tired of having to drive an hour-and-a-half to see me.
Living together gave him a chance to get to know my kids better, and they him. So often, that seems to be fraught with peril. But they got along. Most of the time, anyway. My daughter was just coming into her teenaged years, and things got dicey with her for awhile. But that would have happened no matter whom I’d brought home. She got over it.
Since we were both pretty gun-shy, this seemingly temporary approach also reassured us that we weren’t walking into another disaster that would be hard to get out of. And apparently we weren’t the only ones worried about that. When he told his parents, both in their 70s and very “old school,” they said “Thank heavens you’re giving it a trial run this time.”
After five years of living together, we got married. And here’s a good example of the difference between “Love” and “love.” We were quite content just living together. But then, Life stepped in again. I lost my job in a merger and opened my own consulting practice. Because I had COBRA health insurance coverage as a result of being laid off, I didn’t worry about health insurance. Then, six months later, my COBRA was about to run out, and I discovered that buying private health insurance was horrendously expensive. In a blinding flash of the obvious, we realized that he had insurance through his corporate job and were we married, the kids and I would be covered too. Well, duh.
So we had blood tests, got a license, and made arrangements to marry the day the day after Thanksgiving. He got up and went to work that day. At noon, he came home and picked me up. We went to the Town Hall where the town clerk, also a Justice of the Peace, married us in the law library, with just the three of us in attendance. After our little ceremony, we dropped off the dry cleaning, went to the bank, and had lunch at a local restaurant to celebrate. Then he took me home and returned to the office.
And there you have it. All very romantic, don’t you think?
I didn’t change my name, and we don’t wear rings. But we will have been married for nineteen years this November, and we are living happily ever after.
And this brings me back to the beginning of this stream of posts. “Life is what happens when you aren’t paying attention” (and the credit for that quote, my friend Jamie tells me, goes to John Lennon). That day on the plane many years ago when I was feeling – and looking– like the wreck of the Hesperus, the last thing on my mind was meeting someone, let alone finding “Love” (capital L). I’m convinced that because of that, “love” was able to find me.
Every word of this is true.
— The End —
(of the story but not “Our Story”)