Private schools are a fact of life here and so are hook-ups. You identify the cars of your children's friends—a blue Cutlass Cruiser (this was 20 years ago) meant "Lee Ann's mother." One day as I waited for the teeming hoard to be unleashed on the parking lot, I noticed the parked car to my left. Black Cadillac: Mr. Wheeler. I automatically smiled and waved. The instant I did it I muttered through my teeth, "He doesn't have a clue who you are." I felt myself burn fuscia as he acknowledged my gesture ("Is she waving at me? Who is she?"). When Lee Ann piled into my car he knew, "Ahh. That's Mrs. Campbell!" I drove away as fast as I responsibly could.
He later confessed he set up activities for our daughters that required picking mine up and dropping her back off at our house. He quizzed his daughter about Mrs. Campbell, whom she assured him was pretty enough and was a good cook (important in their sad world). All of this was unknown to me, unnoticed by my daughter.
He dropped into the store I managed, on the lame errand of looking for fabric to cover his porch furniture. I hadn't a clue who he was (Mr. Wheeler was a Black Cadillac to me) so he introduced himself, made small talk, then asked me to lunch. I said, "You mean, right now?" (it was early—I would learn that he does everything before most folks have had their coffee). "Let me get my purse."
Nice restaurant. After we were seated he said, "I'm sorry; you're going to have to tell me your name again … or else I'm going to have to keep calling you Mrs. Campbell." I thought, "This guy is funny."
There followed a transparent phone call about helping him fix up his screened porch, why didn't I come by and take a look at it (I was an interior designer at the time), yada, yada, oh, and could he take the girls with him to the lake, along with his 80-something mother-in-law, who just loved fishing? When he brought Lee Ann home, he came in and chatted about the day they'd had. Said how sorry he felt for his MIL, so he had taken her to do what she loved to do. I thought, "This guy is so nice!"
After the contrived decorating house call, we had our second date. I don't recall where, but it was fun. I thought, "This 10-years-older guy with the gray hair and steel-rimmed glasses is very sexy!" That's how I fell for him, in just that order: humor, kindness, and chemistry.
14 months later we married, starting a new life with two 13-year-olds and one 11-year-old. The first 10 years were hell. Sometimes only exhaustion kept us from splitting assunder. Also resignation, realism, residual affection, and stubborness.
The kids are on their own now and happy. Nine years ago we moved from Her House to Our House--a blessing, small as it is. He sold his business and our life is simpler. I stuck with him because I refused to accept another failed marriage. He stuck with me because he learned to stop saving for tomorrows that might not come, and because he's had a ball, with me and because of me. We've explored wide new worlds together, literally and figuratively. The biggest has been the experience of falling in love as adults, not as kids trying to grow up together, as in our first marriages. We don't know whether we'd do it again. But there are still those days … I'm glad we did.
How did you meet your special someone?
7 comments:
Great story; full of the joys and frustrations of real life. Sticking it out can be worth it.
I wasn't wearing my contacts when I waved at the guy on the motorcycle that, in my blindness, I thought was someone else. What difference between one long-hair wearing Ben Franklin glasses sitting on a motorcycle and another? He knew who I was, assumed I was really waving at him, and called. Mistaken identity and almost 35 years of hanging in there, often through sheer stubborness. Obviously, the stubborness was on both of our parts!
How funny. My older daughter has fallen in love with a young man who (he says) took her to an 8th grade dance. He evidently has always been aware of her, she not so aware of him. Just last night I laughed and said I wish we could zoom back over her life, from a bird's eye view, and see just how many times these two glanced off each other and spun off in other directions before finally locking on!
What a sweet story.
How did we meet? The want-ads!
Jim's SO had moved out and he kept the house. It was a big house so he rented out rooms. I answered the ad. We were roommates, then good pals, and we married about 18 months later.
The curious thing was the timing. I had spent the winter in Ohio with my sisters after our mother passed away and had planned to return to California on Valentine's Day. Shortly before my departure my sister's friend asked me if I'd wait and accompany her to California two weeks later. Had I left when I originally planned, I could have moved back into my old place and would never have met Jim. Oh, and I almost didn't take the room because it was so far from the beach. But I changed my mind and turned around. Literally. I stopped and bought a bottle of champagne, went back and rang the bell and said, "Hi, I'm your new roommate!"
Yes, wouldn't it be interesting to do a fly-over and see where my life would have gone had I kept to the original plan.
How interesting! Most married-youngs meet in school or on the job. But second-timers (or third-, fourth-, etc.) or later-in-lifers have unique stories. Happy anniversary, friend.
Thank you. This is the third marriage for both of us. We were scared out of our wits to do it again.
My husband and I will celebrate our 25th anniversary on Sept. 12. I met him when I was teaching a CPR class at a local college, and he was my student.. No don't worry, we were both over 21! Funny thing is, we both almost missed the class because we overslept!
It was the mouth-to-mouth you had to perfect, wasn't it? I bet, though, in 25 years you've had days you wish you'd hit the "snooze" button! ;-)
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