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October 2011
So now you know how I met my husband and how I began to learn to love (and I still had a looooong way to go before I understood that I had just started). It’s only in hindsight that I recognize what happened that New Year’s Eve. Something else that I want to say about that evening: two things stood out to me on a sensory level. First is that he smelled clean, like soap. No cologne or aftershave. And second is that when he touched me, I felt nurtured and appreciated, not like an object to be used. It was a new experience.
In the early days we saw each other every other weekend…he had his kids and, for me, it was a good thing to be taking it slowly and to be focusing on my life in the two weeks I’d have before I saw him again. If he had lived closer, we would have seen each other lot more often and, to be honest? I think we would have burned out fast because things were pretty darned intense when we were together.
I still had a devil-may-care attitude…it was my way of protecting myself while still being attractive to him (at least that’s how I thought of it at the time).
As the months went by, something else struck me, and that was his willingness to be with my family and friends, as well as his willingness to have me be with his (although it was a year before I met his kids, and that was more my doing. I felt it important that he and I be somewhat stable and steady).
It took me about six months to know that I loved him. And once I realized it, it scared me. In the past, I had been way too willing to give myself away, and as my experience had shown me, I didn’t know how to love or be loved. So how could I trust what I felt for this guy? And how could I trust that I wouldn’t somehow push him away or that he’d decide he was through?
One thing I had decided early on was that I was NOT going to be the first to say, “I love you.” I wanted him to say it first. On the day it happened, we’d been to a party where we met a married couple who’d met online. And later he said to me, “do you think we’re in love?” And I just looked at him and smiled. And he said, “I love you, but don’t expect to hear it all the time.”
(Not a day has gone by since that day, that I don’t hear some form of “I love you” from him, and usually more than once.)
So to recap some highlights along the way:
- We met at the end of 1994.
- We said our “I love you’s” about nine months later.
- I met his kids* in November of 1995 and spent Thanksgiving with him and his family in Pennsylvania.
- In the spring of 1996 we went to Paris (the company I was working for at the time sent me on business) and all my friends thought I’d come home engaged.
- We were seeing each other a lot more often, even though we lived so far apart.
- By the end of 1996 friends and family were dropping hints. For my birthday, my mother gave me the diamond my father had given her, and my stepfather and his wife gave us a Christmas tree ornament that said Tim & Karen, 1996.
- A repeat of the trip to Paris was planned for the spring of 1997.
To be continued…
*I wanted to relay a funny story about something his daughter (who at the time was 10) said to me the day I met her. We were going somewhere in the car and she was in the back seat. She said she wanted to tell me something but was afraid I’d be upset. She laughed nervously and was all fidgety…I told her that it was okay, that she could just tell me. She said, “My Dad had his tubes tied, you know!” And I busted out laughing and told her that I was well aware of that fact.
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I walked up to the historic Griswold Inn in Essex and saw a guy sitting right inside the door. It was him. What I remember most is that when he stood up, he went up and up! He was definitely as tall as he said he was (unlike most men I’d met via blind dates who exaggerated their height). He also had very blue eyes. But my immediate reaction? He’s not my type.
Something else I about that evening is that I felt supremely confident. I also had a bad cold. We had dinner and talked easily. After dinner we went to the Inn’s Taproom where a band was playing. We talked and joked and he put his arm around me. It was nice.
When it came time to leave, he leaned over and kissed me right on the lips. I couldn’t breathe because my nose was so stuffed up! He suggested that I come over to his place to play Scrabble, but I politely declined. And yes, in the back of my mind was a worry: “Is he like all the rest? Does he just want sex? Will he still be interested if I say no? Why do I care?”
It surprised me…as I said, I wasn’t all that attracted to him. I had a devil-may-care attitude on the outside, but on the inside I was vulnerable and wary.
We decided to have a second date. By this time it was mid-December and I needed to make a decision about New Year’s Eve. Since no one better was coming along, I decided that if he was game, so was I. And he was. Our second date ended similarly to our first.
At the time I was living in western Connecticut and commuting to New York City where I was a plastics industry trade magazine journalist. I loved NYC and decided that the ideal New Year’s Eve date would be a day in the city, dinner out, and then watching the ball drop in Time’s Square, which I had done a couple of times before.
Our plans were dashed by a forecast of “wintery mix,” so we decided to stay local, go out for dinner, and then play Scrabble at my place and watch the ball drop on TV. And yes, I had considered that he was 90 miles from home and that the weather was not conducive to a long drive late at night. I’d chose to be okay with it if he spent the night.
I was on a big sushi kick at the time and suggested a Japanese place. He admitted to being an unadventurous diner, but was willing to try it as long as there were cooked foods available. What followed is the now-famous wasabi incident: I cajoled him into trying a piece of sushi and put a big glob of wasabi on it, saying innocently, “it’s not hot!”
That he didn’t get up and walk out right then and there is saying something. In fact, once he got used to it, he liked the blast of wasabi heat.
From there, the evening progressed very much like you might it expect it to. We played Scrabble, drank (beer for him, wine for me), watched the ball drop, made out, and went to bed. I awoke in the middle of the night not feeling well (a little too much wine, perhaps?).
I came back to bed in a cold, icky sweat and instead of turning away from me or wanting to leave, he wrapped me in his arms and held me and I experienced what I now know to be real love. No, he had not declared his love for me (and wouldn’t for many months) but in that moment I felt more loved than I ever had in my entire life…and something inside me shifted. Just a tiny bit.
To be continued…
This story is taking longer to tell than I had anticipated, and so at the risk of ruining the ending, I must pause on this day, in this installment, to wish my husband a very happy birthday. Tim, a day does not go by that I am not grateful for you, that I don’t thank the moon and the stars and the whole entire universe (and your mother and father) for making you possible.
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So there I was, 32 years old, wondering if I’d ever fall in love with a man who would love me back. My problem wasn’t just that I met (and fell for) men who couldn’t or wouldn’t love me back, it’s that I wasn’t attracted to the good men…the men who might love me for me. If I am honest, I tended to be a little cavalier with those men.
It was around that time (1994) that I got my first home computer (a Mac, of course). It came with something called America Online and although I was vaguely aware of the Internet, I had no idea what it really was. One day my BFF Lisa came over and we decided to “sign on.”
My computer made those strange noises that would soon become ubiquitous:
And then those soon-to-be-famous words: “Welcome, you’ve got mail!”
We poked around a little and discovered something called The Romance Connection. I think it was mostly chat rooms, which I quickly discovered I didn’t like, but there were also message boards that were basically like online personal ads. This waaaaaay before sites like Match.com and eHarmony came into existence and if you wanted to see what someone looked like, you had to request that a photo be sent via regular old mail.
I decided that I was going to post an ad looking for a New Year’s Eve date. Here it is, word-for-word:
Wanted: New Year’s Eve date and ???
I am a 32-yr-old woman living in Connecticut who’d like to meet a smart, sexy guy. The immediate goal is to have a great time on New Year’s Eve. The long-term goal is a relationship leading to marriage. It is hard to describe the kind of guy I’m looking for, but here are some attributes. (It should become clear that I am also describing, to some extent, myself. I am not looking for a carbon-copy of myself, but I believe there is room for difference even within this framework.):
- Professional and mature but not a stuffed shirt
- Confident and a little aggressive but not conceited and cocky
- Strong–emotionally and physically
- A little crazy but not stuck in the “college frat-house” frame of mind
- A non-smoker but a light drinker
- Marriage-minded but not “settled down” (kids are not important, but I wouldn’t rule them out)
- Active but not obsessed with sports
- An intellectual conversationalist WITH a wacky sense of humor
- Creative but not spacey or ditzy
- Happy in a tuxedo or in blue jeans
- Spiritual but not religious
- A traveler who’s heart is at home
- Conservative AND liberal
- Violent weather and the ocean in winter (and other seasons, too)
- Word games
- Dancing
- Wine
- Passionate
- Sensitive
- Sensual
I’m not going to give a physical description of the man of my dreams; suffice it to say that while I believe that physical attributes have something to do with what I find attractive, personality and that ever-intangible thing called “chemistry” play into the equation.
Over the course of a couple of months I got more than 250 responses. I responded via email to about 50 of them. Of those, I spoke with about 25 on the phone. And of those, I met 10 in person. Of the 10, there were some that I liked, but it was obvious they weren’t that into me, and there were some who seemed to like me a whole bunch, but for me it was “thanks, but no thanks.”
Then there was this response to my ad:
I am a 38-yr-old DWM living in Connecticut who’d love to meet a smart, sexy lady like you! I really enjoyed your ad for several reasons. First, it was a pleasure to read a well-written, well-thought-out, and correctly spelled ad. So many ads and e-mail notes are absolutely atrocious in those respects. (Now that I’ve said that, I’ll probably made a bunch of spelling mistakes!)
And second, as I read down your list of desired attributes, I realized that I’m a pretty good match for nearly all of them. And although I sometimes have trouble describing myself or what I’m looking for in great detail, the wording of several of your attributes really struck an immediate chord with me. For example, I love violent weather and the ocean all year ‘round. Since I live near the shore, I often ride down to the beach and sit on the rocks when I need to clear my head. When there is a storm or weather front moving in. It’s really impressive. High winds, crashing waves, spray going 40 feet in the air. Mother Nature putting on a show! Certainly makes all the problems in one’s life look insignificant relative to the big picture of one’s life on this earth. Anyway, I’m getting carried away with that one. I think the best way to tell you a bit about me is to respond to each of the things on your list.
- I’m a professional (electrical engineering supervisor) and certainly mature (married 14 years, divorced for two, three kids who stay with me every other weekend), but not a stuffed shirt. I love to try new things, but my main passion in motorcycling. I own a ‘94 Honda VFR750 sportbike, Ferrari red, and am president of a local motorcycle club with about 90 members.
- I’m moderately confident, sometimes aggressive, considerate of others, never conceited or cocky.
- I’m emotionally strong and stable, physically fit and strong (6’4”, 190 lb) but no muscle-man jock.
- I enjoy being spontaneously crazy, especially with the right lady, but not at the expense of others.
- I’m not marriage minded at this point, although I recognize that I want and need to be married in the long run. After my divorce, I feel I have to be very sure before I enter into a commitment like that again…
- I enjoy intellectual conversation the right setting and my sense of humor is probably better described as reserved rather than wacky.
- I’m most comfortable one-on-one or in a small group, as crowds aren’t my thing. But I don’t mind them for a worthy event. Since I wear a tie at work, it’s usually jeans and flannel when I’m home.
- A traveler who’s heart is at home. Very well said. I like day trips and weekend outings, but I do value my time and space at home.
- Word games are good. I play Scrabble with the kids a lot, as well as Pictionary.
- Dancing and wine. Okay, confession time. I don’t dance or drink wine. Hey, I said NEARLY all the things on your list! :-) I enjoy beer and occasionally a good scotch. Wine is nice with dinner once in a while, but I don’t do that often.
- Passionate, sensual and sensitive are all words I’ve used in my own personal ads. But you just have to take my word on that until we meet, I suppose.
I hope you’re not asleep after all that babbling… I guess your ad just really got me going. So, where in CT do you call home? And what would you like to do on New Year’s Eve? I’d love to hear what you’d think is a great date. For me? Let’s see, it would probably include a dinner at a nice, but casual place, followed by a few exotic, festive drinks (Snakebites come to mind…), then maybe a comedy act (doesn’t require dancing…), then something mildly outrageous at mark the occasion like a snowball fight on Main Street or a motorcycle ride across town (only if sober…I don’t drink & ride).
Well, I’d love to hear more about you. I’m sure you’ll get lots of responses to your ad (bet mine is longest!) but I hope you get a chance to write back! And I don’t have any plans so far for New Year’s Eve…. :-)
I wrote back immediately and it wasn’t long before we’d spoken on the phone and decided to meet.
To be continued…
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I don’t remember the first time I heard the saying, “you can’t love someone else until you love yourself,” (as well as the corollary, “if you don’t love yourself, no else will”) but it was well before I met my husband Tim. I understood it, but hadn’t lived it very well.
Sure, I’d had a boyfriend or two in high school and college (but mostly crushes from afar). I was a late bloomer in that department: awkward, shy, scared even…certainly unsure of myself on many levels. My weight was an issue, as well. Actually, that’s not completely accurate: it was my insecurity about my weight and body that was an issue.
It says a lot that the first guy I really fell in love with (and lost my virginity to*) was gay and younger; I was a senior in college and he was a freshman. Obviously that relationship was not meant to last, and there was some drama and heartache towards the end, but I have some fabulous memories from that time.
Once I got out of college, I started going out to clubs and such and met a lot of guys, some of whom I dated once or twice. Then came Tony, for whom I fell hard. He had a great family and cool friends. We had a lot of fun together. We dated for about a year, and then he broke up with me the day before New Year’s Eve. I was crushed. I considered that my first “real” (adult?) relationship.
I met more guys…especially foreigners! (Remind me to tell you about Rami from Turkey). Most of them wanted one thing. As insecure as I was, I sometimes gave in.
Then I met a guy from Brazil. This was in 1988. After four months of dating, we eloped. He needed a green card, and deep down inside I knew that, but I had convinced myself that he loved me. It was an awful marriage, but I desperately clung to the idea that it wasn’t.
Even though he’d go back to Brazil without me…
Even though he wouldn’t allow me to meet his family or even speak to them on the phone.
Even though he wouldn’t spend time with my family…
Even though he’d go on vacations without me (because he could afford it and I could not)…
Even through he called me nasty names and accused me of bad things because I had once dated a black guy…
Even though he cruelly teased me…
Even though he cheated on me…
Even though I didn’t like who I’d become in this so-called marriage…
Yeah…I loved myself that much.
That so-called “marriage” lasted about four years. I came to my senses when he said he was going back to Brazil indefinitely. I had him served with papers and we were divorced in early 1992. He wasn’t even in the country.
Meanwhile, I met ANOTHER foreigner (this time from India), and he had a green card. I made sure of that. I remember the day he told me, “You have a lot of love to give,” and I was smitten. Of course, he didn’t tell me that he wanted the love I had to give, but he was seemingly so different than the guy to whom I’d been married. He was kind and polite. But then, the holidays came around and he went back to India for two months, even though at that point we’d been in a relationship for well over a year. I stuck with him.
Even though there were all kinds of red flags flying…
Even though I saw him out with other women when he’d told me he couldn’t see me because was away at school getting his Ph.D…
Even though when his mother visited, he stiffly introduced me as his “friend”…
Even though he told me his family would be arranging a marriage for him…
Even though another Christmas and New Year’s Eve came and went, he in India, me home alone…
Towards the end of 1994, the guy from India and I were on again/off again (mostly off) and I knew it was going nowhere. I’d had enough and decided that I was going to have a fun, romantic New Year’s Eve if it was the last thing I did!
To be continued…
*Those who have read my book know that I technically lost my virginity much earlier but I don’t count it because of the circumstances.
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