“How did you meet him, Mom?” The Princess was thinking about this the other day.
Let’s try to find a way to explain an Internet Personal that worked out well to an 11-year-old you hope will not decide to meet boys via the Internet.
But I was a good bit older than 11, and I had been divorced for several years. I kept waiting for friends to introduce me to someone. No one did. Then someone accidentally introduced me to an acquaintance, and we went out for a while, and it ended on an irritating note, and I became determined to meet a variety of men and see who I liked instead of feeling compelled to like who I saw.
I had a lot of one hour dates, cups of coffee, mostly, with nice guys. Okay, there was the one who told me over a drink (beer for him, Pepsi for me) that he had slept in his truck the night before to avoid a police roadblock, but they were mostly nice, if unexciting, guys. If you want to know more about my dating adventures between marriages, take me out to lunch someday.
At the point where I had given up and was thinking I would take my ad down the very next day, I received a response from a man who sounded quirky and interesting. The major drawback: his enormous height, 6’4.” (I’m 5 feet tall.) But his e-mail was so charming, including this cuteness:
Although you probably wouldn’t guess it by watching me I am quite playful and affectionate. I consider myself to be romantic (large white stallion, shining armor and castle sold separately. Not available in some areas).
I read this on a Monday morning, and by that evening I was still waffling about replying, when his ID came up on Yahoo Messenger. He continued to charm me, sent me stories he had written, and eventually suggested that we meet. That Thursday evening, July 13, 2000, we met for dinner at Locally Owned Italian Restaurant. I had a moment of panic when I pulled into the parking lot and had to think about how tall 6’4″ really is. I considered fleeing–really, I did–but decided that would be very unkind, especially since he had already seen me.
I got out of the car and we said hello. I was unfortunately standing downhill from him and feeling about the size of a 5-year-old. But soon we were inside and sitting down, and it didn’t matter so much. I discovered from the lack of easy conversation that he is the strong, silent type. And he learned that when I am nervous, I fidget. I fiddled with my fork as we waited for our food to arrive. He took my hand and held it. He picked my hand up off the table and held it in his.
We go back there for dinner every July 13th.