Today is a Special Day

Photo taken by Cristian Morinico, morinico.com

Nine years ago today, I met the man who would become my husband. I was not looking for him. I was not looking for anyone, and quite done with dating for the moment. I was taking time for and care of myself. I was luckily at the very end of getting over someone else and entertaining the idea of never getting married or even into another relationship.

The evening I met him, I was at a wine tasting on October 1, 2011. I met a friend of mine at the tasting and at the end of the event around 7pm, she left and I hung around to see if any wineries were still pouring. I wasn’t ready to go back to my condo and be alone, I guess. Another glass of wine and any small talk with the winemaker or volunteer before I left for the evening sounded just fine to me. I have always loved learning about wine and the wine tastings were my way of doing it without ever setting foot into a classroom.

I saw one table that was still serving, and one man standing in front of it, talking with the person behind the table. When I walked up to the table, I saw the wine being poured was “Ridge Zinfandel”. I had heard of the winery, and from what I had heard, I knew it was quite good. I stuck out my glass, (sort of in front of the man who was still talking to the server, because God only knows when they would have acknowledged my presence otherwise). The man stopped talking and looked down at my glass and his eyes followed up from my glass to my hand to my arm to my face. I was a little embarrassed. I think I asked, “Is this the after party?”, but I really can’t remember what dorky thing line I must have used. All I know is that we began a conversation and shortly after, some of his other friends at the event gathered around. The next thing I knew we were discussing classic cars and then also, all of a sudden, I agreed to go back to his house to see his cars. His friends (who turned out to also be his neighbors) were going to look at them, too, so I convinced myself it was perfectly safe to do this and I would not end up hacked to pieces at the bottom of some rando’s freezer.

And then eventually it was just us in his garage and he asked me if I wanted to come in. Sure, why not? The house looked gorgeous from the outside, so I was curious to see the inside. I was also really enjoying his company. We ended up talking for hours… I don’t think I left until midnight or maybe later. And no, nothing happened. What kind of a girl do you think I am? Well…I am also not a prude, so I did let him kiss me. A lot. But then I left. I had to leave something to the imagination, you know. I left and didn’t even know his last name. He also didn’t ask me for my number. So I thought maybe he was married, in a relationship, or (from the looks of his immaculately decorated home) gay.

Well, the next day, I was still thinking about him and wondering how I might contact him (without driving by his house like a psychopath). Hello internet search! I had little to go on since I didn’t know his last name or his age (he looked about 45 at the time, but who knew he was 53?). So I started thinking about all the things we talked about the night before and thanks to google and a Facebook search, his Facebook profile popped up. So I went ahead and sent him a message. What did I have to lose?

Nine years later and I’m sitting upstairs on my computer in the house I could have been murdered in the night I met the stranger at a wine tasting. We’ve been together officially 8 years and 11 months, and have been married for 3 years and almost 6 months, and I haven’t been asked to leave, so I guess that’s a plus.

So for the single ladies and gentlemen out there, never give up hope. Single people, get out there and do things that you love to do and you’ll find someone else who likes the same things. Having many things in common (the more the better) is a key factor in a successful long term relationship. It will never be perfect, nothing ever is. But the better the foundation you have, the easier it will be to overcome the obstacles. There will always be those, too.

I love you, Andy.