How We Met

“I’ll get there a half hour early.” I said as I walked home from church to stop by my apartment and grab the rose and the book.

The rose was velvet. My mother had given it to me years ago for Valentines Day. It’s the one memory that I sensed no agenda and no anger. Plus, it was the only rose I had and money was tight. I couldn’t buy a fresh rose. Who knew if it was going to work out? I had given up on ever getting married.

Tony and I met via friends and we emailed each other for a couple of weeks before he asked if we could meet. Just like “You Got Mail,” I whispered in the silent apartment, “Meet?”

“Yes.” I typed.

We chose St. Michael’s Cafe–a small cafe downtown.

He wrote, “Afterwards, let’s go on a road trip.”

“Let’s just meet first.” I typed. I wasn’t going to commit to isolation. I had trust issues. Besides he could be an ax murder for all I knew!

I hurried out the door in heels and ran as much as heels allowed across the courthouse plaza to the signal. If I get there a half an hour early he’ll have to find me. Little did I know that my future husband was a tad OCD. He had been there an hour early.

I walked into St. Michael’s and scanned the sparse crowd. This man leaned forward on his elbows with wide green-blue eyes, like a deer in the headlights. Instinctively, I knew that was Tony. Instead of asking him if that was him, I caved to shyness and found a seat, setting the book and rose on the seat next to me. You’re going to have to put it on the table. That inner conversation nagged me and trembling I put the book on the table. In a quick minute, Tony was bringing his cup over and asked, “Are you Nikki?”

He wasn’t an ax murderer.

My own emotional baggage cheated us out of two months of long hikes and conversations. It was safer to date the bad guys than it was to date the good guys. I knew the bad guys would break my heart. The break from a good guy might leave me impaled on the sidewalk, never to recover. I had to eat crow when I sent him an email (that is another blog post for another day) asking if we could just be friends.

A few months later we were engaged. Less than a year later, we were married.

And by the way, he retired the ax.

Email me your love story of how you met your spouse. I’m looking for stories about husbands and wives. Girlfriends and boyfriend stories will have to wait for another time. I’ll be posting them this month with a link back to your website.

Happy Valentines, Honey!


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