Here was how our romance unfolded

Brilliant and witty blogging friend and virtual cohort in this realm, Jazz, and I jointly came up with something that was inspired by her recent blog ‘For Jocelyn’. and elaborated on more fully in her blog of today, entitled ‘A game.’ The first blog gave, in a charming way the story of how she and the love of her life, Mr. Jazz, came to meet and become a couple. It was touching, romantic and very funny.

After I read it I thought I’ll bet that many bloggers who are happily partnered have equally affecting tales of how they and their significant other became a household unit. So, I thought, let’s share our happy tales a la Jazz. So, the rest is up to you. Tell us your story if you want to play along, and then link back to me or Jazz or both. Or, as Jazz succinctly states:
We’d love to hear your stories (I mean, c’mon people, who doesn’t that type of story?). So post your story, leave a comment here that you did and I’ll do another post with all the links.It might possibly be fun.

OK, Jazz already kicked off the process and here is mine:

It was in the summer of 1997 that a female friend — we actually friendly dated for a little while. Friendly datedmeant we kept our pants in each other’s company — came up with a brilliant idea and that was for a day outdoors for the walking wounded. In other words, middle aged but lovely people who had either come out of a marriage breakup or were unpartnered for whatever reason. She asked if I would be interested in taking a day trip to Hornby Island. Hornby, as pictured above, is a beautiful spot off the east coast of Vancouver Island. It’s a former hippie and draft-dodger haven and is now sort of an upscale artists’ colony. It’s a nice place to visit, with fabulous beaches and a Mediterranean climate.

“I’m there,” I told my friend. I needed a change of scene.

In the summer of 1997 I was a year out of the breakup — very painful and stress-fraught breakup — of my 2nd marriage. The absolutely last thing I was seeking was to meet somebody. I was enjoying my bachelor life. I had a nice apartment and I would soon be getting the equity from the expensive house that was up for sale, in which my wife and stepdaughter were still living. I already had my cat, Griffin, who just passed on to the big litter box in the sky only a few weeks ago. But, I reiterate, I had no desire to be in any sort of a permanent relationship. You know, twice-wounded and all that. I had concluded I wasn’t very good at long-duration ties. Anyway, I had female ‘friends’, including some ‘with privileges’. All in all, not a bad thing. Furthermore, I was seeing somebody on a fairly regular basis at that time. She was quite a lovely woman of an Asian persuasion, terribly smart, great company, not hard on the eyes and quite an agreeable intimate partner. I had no desire for us to be life partners, neither did she. So, life was pretty good.

Anyway, on the day of the great Hornby adventure I decided to ride with the friend who had set it up. So, riding in the vehicle were myself, my friend, another female, and a lady named Wendy. I didn’t know Wendy or the other person.

It’s a fairly time-consuming trip between the Comox Valley and Hornby Island, since two ferries and the consequent waits are involved, so we had a lot of time to chat. It was a beautiful day and one that was conducive to positive feelings. We settled on having a picnic lunch on a spot known as Whaling Station Bay. It is a lovely white-sand strand that offers fine swimming. It was good. It was also nothing much more than merely a day away. The company was good. I didn’t really notice Wendy in particular other than to see her as a pleasant and pretty 40-ish lady.

It was on our return that I actually took notice of her. We were in a long queue waiting for the ferry. When it arrived and the cars were ready to embark we noticed that the vehicle in front of us was unoccupied. There is a small bar next to the ferry landing and the driver and his buddies were obviously enjoying a beverage, oblivious to the fact that departure time had arrived.

“Asshole,” Wendy said. “He’s obviously more interested in his beer than he is in the fact he’s blocking traffic. Serves him right if he misses the boat.” Simple solution, our driver just pulled around him when the time came, and we boarded, leaving the boozers’ car up on the road. Never did notice if he got on.

But, more importantly, I had been struck by Wendy’s comment. She’s my kind of person, I thought to myself. That is exactly the sort of comment I would have made. I think I’d like to get to know her better, she has just the right caustic wit.

Nothing much happened at that juncture. But, a few weeks later the woman who had organized the trip indicated in a phone conversation that Wendy wouldn’t strenuously object if I were to phone her sometime. I had no aversion to the idea at all. A few days later I asked if she would like to go for coffee. She thought that would be a good idea. Over coffee I heard her story. It was remarkably similar to mine, including two failed marriages and no desire for a relationship per se. But, she had no aversion to male company. I asked her a bit about her work at that coffee date and told her I would like to right a feature on her. That, I knew from experience, was a good way to get to know someone better. We agreed to do the story the following Saturday.

I did the interview and it went well. We then went for a long walk and I actually felt serene for the first time since my separation. That told me something. I loved her intelligence, her wit and the fact that she was bountifully pleasing esthetically. I asked her if she would like to go to dinner that night. She said she would, even on that short notice.

We went to dinner and it was good. At the end of the evening I gave her a hug, and nothing more. But, the next day I drove to her place to give her a small gift. She was out, so I left it on her doorstep. I wasn’t yet smitten, but I was very comfortable with her.

“You didn’t even try to kiss me on our first date,” she told me later. “I was actually disappointed.”

“I didn’t want to blow it by giving the impression I was after sex and nothing else,” I said by way of explanation.

A few weeks later she and I ended up on the same community board. She was already on it, and I, by design, volunteered to serve. It would afford me more time in her company.

One evening, just prior to a board meeting, she invited me to her place for coffee. As I sat there only one thought ran through my mind: This works! I want to be with her in some sort of exclusivity. I haven’t felt so comfortable with somebody in ages.

Turns out she felt exactly the same way. We decided that evening that we should become ‘an item.’

The rest is kind of a pleasing history.

My first order of business was to break of f connection with my lovely Filipina friend. That was difficult, but she already suspected something was amiss and that I had probably met somebody.

As it followed, we began keeping company ‘with privileges’ in very short order. The following spring we moved in together at her townhouse. The next December we bought the house we now live in. And in April of 1999, despite our protestations to the contrary that we would never marry again. We did just that.

This past April we celebrated our 10th anniversary and I can honestly say I’ve never looked back with any feelings other than gratitude and love.