Five years ago today – a Wednesday even – I first met the woman who would become my (second) wife. It wasn’t an overtly planned thing – we had met online and decided to meet in person at a local Mexican restaurant for chips and tea. I had only been a widower for a very short time and was just looking for people to hang out with – to get me out of my head and help to keep me from slinking into whatever dark places 30-year old widowers might find themselves in.
But something interesting happened.
We talked for close to two hours, and made plans to get together over the weekend for dinner.
And she cancelled.
But she agreed to try dinner again the next week.
Then she talked to her neighbor, someone I had worked with, and his wife, and it went something like this:
MCC: Do you know Jeff Evans?
Neigbors: Oh, yeah, great guy. Why?
MCC: We met last week, and –
Neighbors: When you go out again, can we go with you? We haven’t seen him in a while and want to catch up.
MCC: Um, okay, sure. How about dinner, [day, time and place]?
And that was it. MC and I started hanging out together regularly, going from a few times a week to daily over the summer, and have been together ever since. I think the longest we’ve actually been apart in that time has been about a week.
Sound sappy? Probably, but she is one of the best things that has happened to me, and I’m truly grateful every day that we found each other – especially since our paths probably crossed several, several times during our years in college without meeting.
Even Wayne Brady gave me props.