As of today, Brett and I have been together 13 years and been married for 9. In honor of this auspicious day, I will indulge in a Brett entry. (By the way, you can read a short version of how we met if you go here.)

On our first date, Brett was very very late. I told him I lived on West 4th Avenue but he went to East 4th Avenue and got hopelessly lost. He finally called me from a payphone and got new directions. He called just as I was indulging in a big bowl of ice cream to make up for getting stood up.

When he finally showed up, I was taken aback by how handsome he was (he’s still very handsome, even more handsome, I dare say). He stood there, kind of nervous with that floppy 1920s hair that some boys were wearing in the late 80s and early 90s. He had on shorts (nice legs) and sturdy shoes and those nubby, outdoor-ish socks. He was much preppier than the boys I usually dated and coupled with his obvious good looks, I figured that he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. Boys like him, I thought, dated pretty girls who did things like paint their nails and wear perfume. I thought we would have this one date and that would be the end of it.

We got in his car and he started talking and talking and talking. And I was listening and listening and listening. (The joke now is that I captured his heart with my good listening skills on that first date and then never let him talk again because I’m always yammering.)

At one point we were stopped at a red light and he suddenly turned to me, very intensely and said, “Quandry. What does quandry mean?” And I told him and then the rest of the evening he used it in every sentence that he could.

“Should I turn here? It’s a bit of a quandry, isn’t it?”

He had this kind of odd way of focusing on me and turning his head and cocking his ear and I realized at some point that he was very handsome and a little preppy but that he was also a little weird. Eccentric, more like. Darling, I thought.

We went to a restaurant but the kitchen was closed (”That’s a quandry,” he muttered) so he just ordered cheesecake. I, of course, ordered nothing being under the delusion that one should not eat in front of a man on the first date. So I watched him eat his cheesecake and tried to figure out if it was a date. Did he just want to be friends? He was so handsome! What would a boy like him want with a girl like me?

We went back to my apartment and sat on my bed and listened to music (Soul II Soul) and talked. He was impressed that 1) I had lived alone in the past (I was then living with my roommate — aka “Crazy Tracy” — at that time); and 2) I had lots of books. At some point we started holding hands and then at about 5am, after the sun came up on April Fool’s Day, I stood on the front steps and kissed him good-bye. Our very first kiss and I can remember the way my stomach dropped and flipped, how I hugged myself watching him walk away backwards smiling at me.

Ahhh, young love! You know the only thing better is older love. Sometimes I look at him while he’s folding laundry or reading the paper and I think about how when our kids are grown, we’ll get to be alone again and I’m so happy to have that to look forward to. He has become essential to me and to my happiness. I feel so lucky and so honored that he’s chosen me to spend his life with him. Happy anniversary, Brett!

Bookmark
SubscribeBloglinesDiggdel.icio.usFacebookStumbleUponTechnorati

Related posts