Our First Date

Last Friday, DH and I were trying to decide where to go for lunch. Maybe we were feeling sentimental, because I mentioned a place that's been one of our favorites for many years. Unfortunately, it turns out that they've closed.

Then DH said, "What about the Italian place where we had our first date? Are they still open?" (I appreciate the fact that my husband can be so spontaneously romantic. It's really appealing when they're not even trying!)

Indeed, they were still open, so we headed to the old neighborhood where the restaurant was located. It looked like it had seen better days, but that's kinda how we remembered it from before! There is one new feature--bars on the windows--so I can't say much for the ambience. But their wonderful fresh salads and creamy homemade dressing hadn't changed, nor had the chicken parmigiana on fresh-baked bread. We sat at the same booth where we (think) we sat 20 years ago, and I'm pretty sure we even had the same waitress!

Neither of us remembers our first date with any particular excitement. When DH is under stress, he tends to talk a lot, and when I'm nervous, I'm more likely to clam up, so as I recall, that Wednesday evening was pretty much a one-way conversation. "Goodness, that man talks a lot," I thought. He probably said to himself, "The girl is just plain dull."

Nonetheless, there must have been a little interest there, because a few days later we arranged another date. And then another. And the rest is histoire!

Stormy Romance

Our wedding anniversary is ten days away, and at this time of year, DH and I always like to recall the particular drop in barometric pressure that heralded the beginning of our relationship.

It was a spring day, and there were storms a-brewing. As the rain fell, everyone in town began to hear the unmistakable sounds of golf-ball-sized hail hitting roofs, cars, etc. (Okay, some accounts said tennis-ball-sized hail, maybe citrus-fruit-sized hail--whatever.)

Then my phone rang. It was my dentist, whom I had seen for a recent checkup, calling to ask me out on a date. I know--I was surprised, as well. He assured me that he’d never asked another patient to go out with him. He was engaging: “I only like three restaurants in town, and they’re all dumps,” he declared. I liked those restaurants, too.

At the time, I was working as a special auditor for the State; Mountain Man likes to say that I worked for the "State IRS." At work on Monday, I was telling my immediate supervisor how my dentist had called and asked me out. “Isn’t that weird?” I said.

“How long have you been seeing this dentist?” he asked. “Oh, about a couple of years.” “A couple of years? What was different this last time?” I replied, “Let’s see--well, it was a State holiday. I was wearing jeans.”

He thought for a minute, and offered, “You look good in jeans.”

So whether it was the barometric pressure, the jeans, or the way he made me laugh, in ten days we will have been married for 19 years.

And we have lots and lots of other stories.