How Did You Meet?

(The following entry is a submission I made to the Morning Call -- Allentown, PA -- for their How Did You Meet? stories that are published around Valentine's Day.)

In all probability, my husband’s first date with me was the worst date he ever had. Our freshman year in college we were set up on a blind date/double date with my roommate and the guy she was dating. My roomie’s date was my husband’s big brother in a fraternity. Complicating the whole thing was the fact I had a terrible crush on my roommate’s guy and only agreed to go on the date because I knew it would mean I could be close to him for an evening (and maybe impress him enough to dump her).

Because I was taught to rise to the occasion, I managed to make it through a very long, uncomfortable evening with a person I had nothing in common with except the fact we had both played flute in the high school band. I am sure the most memorable part of the evening must have been when he walked me to my dorm and I turned, grabbed his hand and shook it, and hastily said, “GoodnightJimIhadanicetimeIhavetogotothebathroom.” and dashed up the twenty stairs to the door of my dorm.

Since we attended a very small college and had many mutual friends, we were thrown together on many occasions thereafter. We became friends and even dated. One sunny day not long before graduation we were sitting under the trees on the hillside near the college chapel when we sort of spontaneously agreed we should get married. We just celebrated our thirty-fourth anniversary, so I guess we must have found some things in common to talk about.