This is a joyous query, unlike the last. I am sure many readers have wondered about this, so I will share this with all, including those who, like I at one time, felt consigned to terminal spinsterhood.
It goes like this. A friend of mine suggested I join Match.Com, which I was unwilling to do, at first, because the whole online thing intimidated me. I finally decided, having nothing to lose, and having tried all else, to give it a try.
Things did not go well in the beginning, and I became very frustrated. I gave up, when I came upon this attractive, seemingly nice guy--I will call him Joe, though that might have been his real name, anyway. What caught my eye about him was that he lived in Cedar Grove, New Jersey, which I knew very well, because that is where my Aunt Martha and Uncle Jack lived, during my growing up years. So, I got in touch with this guy, who was equally intrigued that I was someone who had heard of Cedar Grove. Now, I had not gotten around to posting a picture, but, since he asked me to, I did.
I heard back from him, but the message was anything but positive. In retrospect, I will say, to his credit, it was to the point. Almost too much. His response was something like, "I am sure you are a very nice guy, but you are just not attractive enough for me."
Well, I was crushed. But I had been writing my blog for three years by this time, in 2010, so I fired back with a response of my own; something like, "Thank you for letting me know in advance how genuinely superficial you are."
And that was that.
For six weeks, I stayed off the site, with money going down the drain. Finally, I did some thinking outside the box. The way this worked was they sent you pictures and info. of guys they thought you/I might be interested in. But, what, I thought, about the ones they did not send? I began to search there, and, this is the truth, the first pic I happened upon was David!
We began a tentative correspondence on the site, then he suggested we meet.
The date was May 8, 2010. It was an omen, because two years before, on this very date, I had attained my dream of seeing "The Song Of Bernadette" on the big theater screen; specifically, the Walter Reade at Lincoln Center, then having a Jennifer Jones Retrospective. It also was/is the birthday of one of my favorite coworkers.
On said date, in 2010, it was pouring rain. I had my rainbow umbrella, which I called my "Umbrella Of Cherbourg" umbrella, named after one of the most romantic movies ever made. We met at the Riviera Cafe, near Seventh Avenue South, which is now defunct. It was meant to be casual; just drinks and talk, but it turned out to be longer, and evolved into dinner. We just clicked. He walked me to the station; I was then living in Woodside, Queens, and, while functional, was not happy about it. He was living on Bethune Street, in the West Village, but don't go thinking glam, girls; it was a narrow, several floor walkup. Murder on my feet and back. Even my walkup in Woodside was easier to navigate.
Phone conversations followed. So did a second date. After that, when David walked me to the subway station--Christopher Street, of course, because we returned again to the Riviera Cafe--he said to me, "Have a good evening, dear." No one had ever called me "dear," and the warmth in which he said it told me, then, that he was "The One."
A picnic followed, sometime after, then we went to his place. And, save for my heart ablation last year, we have been together, since. We were married on January 10, 2017.
That's it, girls, plain and simple.
So, those who may think yourselves terminal spinsters, stop thinking that way.
Look what can happen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LoveLoveLove!!!!
ReplyDeleteIt is never too late for romance!!
ReplyDeleteVictoria,
That is for sure! And I stand
as proof!