<p>I met H when we were both in the Peace Corps. He had just moved to “my”
village and a friend brought him to my house while he was running an errand. We got involved in the most interesting conversation and I was sorry to see him leave when his friend picked him up. When he left I felt like I was going to faint. I sat down in a chair, took a deep breath, shook my head and said, (to an empty house) “There’s SOMETHING about that guy!” (And it wasn’t physical attraction–H had a horrible scraggly beard, nerdy glasses. . .and a neighbor actually had told me that he was gay. . .) He was just so intelligent and interesting. When I saw him again we started hanging out and talking. He was funny, entertaining, talented. He would sing songs and recite poetry and do all kinds of crazy things to impress me. Within three months we were engaged and planned to get married less than 2 months later. We postponed the wedding another 2 months until we returned to the States because my family was not too happy about my marrying a guy they’d never seen. (Didn’t make sense to me then, but, now, as a parent I understand).</p>
<p>How did I know he was the one? I felt like I had met my other half–we complement each other because we are opposites in many ways. When he wasn’t around, I felt like I was missing a part of myself. I respected and admired him for his intelligence and talents. And without the beard, he was kinda cute. I don’t even remember how he proposed–it was sort of like, “Wanna get married?” I didn’t answer right away–I actually said, “Let me think about it.” (!?!) I remember lying in bed that night, weighing pros and cons in my mind. He was not at the “type” of man I thought I would marry. He didn’t have much on my list “good husband qualities.” He had no job and undergrad debt. I knew we would have a difficult but interesting life together. I decided to choose that instead of waiting for someone more compatible, more established, more. . .boring to come along. The next week he bought me a ring–plain gold wedding band. He gave it to me in a
parking lot. I remember the oil stains on the ground, people rushing by. Three years later, his mother gave me a family ring as my “engagement” ring.
He presented it to me on the driveway next to our rusty, dented old car.
Married 21 years next month–good times and bad, richer/poorer, sickness/health–seen all that. </p>
<p>My parents have a very “romantic” story. My dad told us kids that it was “love at first sight” when he saw my mom. My mom was in an ethnic choir and my dad was a very shy engineering student whose roommate dragged him to the choir practice. We could hardly imagine anyone being attracted by my mom’s looks (she was an ugly duckling–tall, skinny, big nose, large scar on her face where a tumor had been. . .her brother actually paid one of his friends to take her to the prom. . .) Dad said he walked in the room, saw Mom and said to himself, “That’s the girl I’m going to marry.” When we asked what attracted him, he said, “The conservative way she was dressed.”<br>
That day they were looking for someone to play a bride and groom for a local TV show that the choir was rehearsing for. Mom was going to be the bride because her flexible work schedule allowed her to attend extra practices. They were trying to find a groom and someone said, “What about that new guy (Dad)?” Mom looked at him and said, “No, he’s too short.” Turns out that Dad did play the groom for the show. A couple months later Dad graduated and took a job in Japan for two years. They wrote to each other, and got engaged the day he came back. They’ve been married 48 years. They are a very compatible, hardworking couple who agree on just about everything. Now I appreciate growing up with so much stability and confidence in my parents virtually conflict-free marriage. They had serious issues to deal with, but they were always “together,” rock solid, and that gave us kids a lot of security.</p>