Wednesday, August 31, 2005
The one where I make you sick gushing over the wonders of Mr. W
I had a dream last night in which Mr. W informed me he had been sleeping with a (married) friend of his parents since he was 17. In the dream, we fought because when we met neither of us had slept with anyone else and I was upset because he had lied to me. I was also upset because this was a woman who could potentially be at a baby shower. I woke up before Mr. W's alarm went off and lay in bed awake for an hour afraid to touch him because I was so hurt. And I spent the morning while he was getting ready for work telling him the dream and making him reassure me again and again that he would never cheat on me. And I know that he wouldn't. I'm just a bit...insane right now. So instead of thinking about any of that, I'm going to focus on much more fun things -- like how I met this wonderful man.
I'm a midwestern girl. Born in a town of 1500 people with no ethnic or religious diversity to speak of. (Literally, ethnic minorities in my town: 5 -- 2 girls adopted from Korea, one biracial boy, and a very sweet divorced woman and her daughter who happened to be black. Religiously? Protestant through and through with the exception of a small handful of Catholics) I went to college in my hometown at a quite prestigious private Christian college. Even though my house was about 5 blocks from campus, I lived in the dorm.
Late in the night some time in, I think, October 1997, I was writing a paper. My roommate was already asleep as it was well after midnight. I was almost finished with the paper when I tried to print a draft. Nothing happened. Lots of beeping came from both my computer's speakers and the printers. My roommate stirred and I freaked out. I went online to a telnet talker (does anyone even remember those???) and there were, thankfully, others logged in. I asked if anyone knew what to do when...and this really nice guy told me what to do. It worked, the paper printed, things were good. I think I even got an A on that paper.
The next day, I logged back in and looked at the guy's profile to find an email address. He had one listed, so I sent an email to him thanking him for his help. He responded and we began talking that way on a fairly regular basis. We sent each other forwarded jokes. We talked about the people we were dating -- at the time I was dating a British college professor at a well-known Massachusetts college (we had met while I was nannying there in the summer of 97; well over a year later, an angry crying British woman called me on the phone. How was I to know he was married? And had a genetic heart condition? And had dropped dead while walking across campus one day???) -- and we gave each other advice. Mr. W repeatedly told me there was something wrong with this man and why couldn't I see it? Sadly, I didn't see anything odd in a 32 year old Oxford graduate wanting to be with a college junior who had just turned 20. I found problems with the girls Mr. W was dating as well. Our friendship deepened and we ended up talking through various talkers and email on a daily basis.
In January 1998, after the end of J-term and before the start of the spring semester, I decided to travel to NYC with my friend D. He and I had been 'just friends' for two years. We thought it would be nice to meet this funny guy who I was emailing and talking about all the time.
Mr. W drove down from the SUNY school he was attending to Manhattan with his roommate to meet us for dinner at an amazing Italian place in the edge of the Village. They were considerably late, and I was angry. And then these two HUGE guys walked in (my big Italian/Jewish Mr. W and his Indian roommate, both standing 6'4 and weighing about 230). And my heart melted. Having never seen a picture, I knew it was him. I got up and walked across the dining room and threw my arms around Mr. W. I decided right then that I was ending things with the Brit and marrying Mr. W.
We spent every day of that weekend together before I went back to the midwest. And two weeks later, he got in his car and drove 12 hours so he could spend Valentine's Day with me. Not a day has gone by since then that we haven't spoken. Not a minute has gone by when I haven't felt completely grateful to have found someone so perfect and wonderful.
Even if we are the odd couple. He's tall and broad and very stereotypically Italian looking (unless he's with the Jewish part of his family and then he very much fits those stereotypes). I'm very short (5'almost 1") and normally thin (size 4 or 6), with very whitebread looks (I'd fit in on Leave it to Beaver). In our wedding photos, I had to have a large wooden box shoved under my dress to stand on so that I came up to his shoulder.
And even now, 7 years later, my heart still races every time he walks through the door. Being on bed rest and strict pelvic rest has forced me to mostly stop touching him, because simply touching him just isn't enough. And now, at 3 pm, I'm laying in my bed counting down until 5:30 when he walks through our door.
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