How We Met
Everyone secretly envies that couple that met under cute circumstances as though their pairing was sprinkled with fairy dust by other-worldly fates. They appear to have been divinely guided toward one another while the rest of us were left on our own to find each other in bars or at the office break room. I know a young woman who shuns online dating for the simple reason that she doesn't want that to be her story. She wants an organic story, one that feels designed by fate, not by profiles and swiping right. I get it. Who doesn't want the most important decision in life to feel guided by divinity, and moreover, have an attractive backdrop, so that the memory of the first meeting is a pretty mental snapshot, one that is proudly pulled out to share with others?
The thing is you don't get to pick that first moment with your partner; it just happens. All you have is the recognition of it later. You're stuck with whatever transpired at that moment. And cute or not, that becomes the story you will carry throughout the life of your union. Fortunately, the dull or uninspiring origin story lies dormant, an insignificant aspect of what came after. It only surfaces when asked, "How did you two meet?" That's when some of us wish we had a better story like my friend, Debbie, for instance. Warm sunny day, blue skies with white puffy clouds, a young girl begins to cross the street. Boy in car, waiting on light to change sees her and is so overtaken that he says to friend, "I'm going to marry that girl!" And he did. When she tells that story I can see the sunlight shine through her hair and the breeze that lifts her pretty skirt too; and mostly I feel the sense of destiny at play.
I recently met a young girl on a flight home this spring. I found her so likeable that we talked the entire flight. She was coming to spend six weeks in study program. Naturally, my husband and I offered her a ride to her destination. Months later when she let us know she was returning for another six week round I insisted she stay with us. I never imagined that she and our younger son would hit it off. Under our eyes we saw a romance blossom to the point were we became uncomfortable for our part in it. Had we just plucked some girl out of obscurity and delivered her home to our son? If so will their story be "cute." Certainly, it will have that quality of predetermination in the very randomness of its essence. Forevermore when they are asked how they met they will laughingly recall that "mom found her on an airplane and brought her home."
So how did my husband and I first meet? At a bar. On college spring break. After a lot of drinking. Nothing magical or memorable was said. He thought I was pretty. I thought he was bold. The skin on his arms had a tawny sheen and he smelled good. I was tanned and my hair bleached by the gulf coast sun. I remember that I wore a white flowery wrap dress I made myself. And I remember a stolen kiss before a fish aquarium and a certain disco song in the back ground. At the time he was just a cute boy I'd discovered on spring break. How was I to l know that warm humid evening in March 1979 would carry such import. A snapshot in time of sound and vision and waves of impressions were made meaningful by what came after. We married and so we have a story together. I never thought our meeting was inspired or directed by fate. But lately I've come to reconsider. The very randomness of a first meeting is divine enough. Two people brought together for life is serious business regardless of the nature of the first encounter. And though the scenario can be cute, or clever, or remarkable in its circumstance, it is sacred for its occurrence alone. That it even happened is divine enough. And if the whole thing doesn't seem glamorous enough well, we are free to embellish.
After all it's a story.
The thing is you don't get to pick that first moment with your partner; it just happens. All you have is the recognition of it later. You're stuck with whatever transpired at that moment. And cute or not, that becomes the story you will carry throughout the life of your union. Fortunately, the dull or uninspiring origin story lies dormant, an insignificant aspect of what came after. It only surfaces when asked, "How did you two meet?" That's when some of us wish we had a better story like my friend, Debbie, for instance. Warm sunny day, blue skies with white puffy clouds, a young girl begins to cross the street. Boy in car, waiting on light to change sees her and is so overtaken that he says to friend, "I'm going to marry that girl!" And he did. When she tells that story I can see the sunlight shine through her hair and the breeze that lifts her pretty skirt too; and mostly I feel the sense of destiny at play.
I recently met a young girl on a flight home this spring. I found her so likeable that we talked the entire flight. She was coming to spend six weeks in study program. Naturally, my husband and I offered her a ride to her destination. Months later when she let us know she was returning for another six week round I insisted she stay with us. I never imagined that she and our younger son would hit it off. Under our eyes we saw a romance blossom to the point were we became uncomfortable for our part in it. Had we just plucked some girl out of obscurity and delivered her home to our son? If so will their story be "cute." Certainly, it will have that quality of predetermination in the very randomness of its essence. Forevermore when they are asked how they met they will laughingly recall that "mom found her on an airplane and brought her home."
So how did my husband and I first meet? At a bar. On college spring break. After a lot of drinking. Nothing magical or memorable was said. He thought I was pretty. I thought he was bold. The skin on his arms had a tawny sheen and he smelled good. I was tanned and my hair bleached by the gulf coast sun. I remember that I wore a white flowery wrap dress I made myself. And I remember a stolen kiss before a fish aquarium and a certain disco song in the back ground. At the time he was just a cute boy I'd discovered on spring break. How was I to l know that warm humid evening in March 1979 would carry such import. A snapshot in time of sound and vision and waves of impressions were made meaningful by what came after. We married and so we have a story together. I never thought our meeting was inspired or directed by fate. But lately I've come to reconsider. The very randomness of a first meeting is divine enough. Two people brought together for life is serious business regardless of the nature of the first encounter. And though the scenario can be cute, or clever, or remarkable in its circumstance, it is sacred for its occurrence alone. That it even happened is divine enough. And if the whole thing doesn't seem glamorous enough well, we are free to embellish.
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