October 2, 2002

October 2, 2002.
How I Met My Husband

Want to know what song I'm downloading right now, that makes me irrationally happy?

Here is your hint: It was a huge hit by a Canadian artist in 1973, and contains this cryptic little couplet:

"She's been lookin like a queen in a sailor's dream
And she don't always say what she really means...."

Go ahead. Make a guess! I posted the answer at the bottom of the page.

So maybe this is a good time to tell the story of how I met Tom.

I mean, why not? It's a story that makes me happy to remember. (I divided it up into handy sections to make it easy for you to digest and enjoy.)

Part 1: Pop Song '89

It all starts with my friend Noël. I was a freshman in college when I met her. Noël was from Florida and I was from Georgia. We met in Tennessee in 1992. She was a couple of years older than I but for some kind reason she took me under her wing from the very start. I couldn't have been more than six weeks into my first semester of school when I first heard Tom's name.

He sent Noël a letter one day. They had been good friends in high school, back in Florida. They had played opposite each other in numerous school dramas (including the lead roles in a school production of Romeo and Juliet.) They were both fans of REM, awash in a sea of Skid Row-lovin' classmates. They bonded.

Noël mentioned to me that she thought Tom and I would get along well. "You know, you both just seem to have a similar sense of humor," she'd say. And she'd regale me with amusing high school stories, and the sort of antics he'd pull with his best friend Brian.

At the time I thought nothing of it. Tom was far away, attending school in Texas. But in spring of my freshman year I went to Florida with Noël. Her parents had a timeshare on Cocoa Beach. I found myself meeting these friends of Tom's. As a matter of fact, it seemed like I met everyone except for Tom. I met Brian and Shane and Loc and I liked them all. Tom was always someplace else. He was off in Texas, or he was on his way back to Florida, but it would take him 3 days to make the drive, and I didn't have the time to wait. I saw photos of Tom; I heard more stories about what a capital fellow he was. I drove through his old neighborhood with Noël; I visited the high school where they had graduated. Tom was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Part 2: The Man Who Wasn't There

Soon after this point, Tom became a bit of a joke between Noël and me. In my mind, he was a superhero. He was perfect. I knew he was good-looking (I had seen the photos), I knew he was well-liked (I leafed through his senior year yearbook and took note of how many superlatives were thrown his way), and I knew he had great taste in friends. But I just figured he would never show up. There were two big problems in our would-be romance: He was still a complete stranger. And he lived in Texas.

In 1996 I graduated from college and moved back to Atlanta, where Noël had already settled. I was frustrated by my lack of prospects at this point. I was a single young woman in my early 20s, working a low-paying job and living in a shabby little apartment on the edge of town. I had no prospects for marriage and wasn't even in a serious relationship.

One day Noël called me. "Guess who just called me?" she asked.

"You tell me." I had a feeling.

"Tom. He just moved to Atlanta."

I felt my pulse quicken, and then slow as she continued:

"Yeah, unfortunately, he moved here so he could be with his girlfriend. I just had dinner with them. She's so cute and little. I think they're going to get married."

Wasn't it distressing enough that I had never met Tom? Now I had to deal with the injustice of him being paired with a saucy, petite little girl. Probably one with a real job and a smart wardrobe. I am almost six feet tall; I have been called a lot of things, but "little" is a word that's never been applied to me. I resent "tiny" girls and have been known to develop irrational personal grudges against ones you can pick up and sling around and then deposit back on the ground as they explode into a peal of wild giggles. I imagined that Tom's girlfriend was one of these sorts.

Part 3: The Microphone is On

One day about six months later, Noël called me again. She had news for me. Tom and his lady had broken up. It was over between them.

At that point, I began to bend all my energies on orchestrating a meeting.

I had to let the paint dry on their breakup first. I waited. But I did not wait in vain.

I remember only some of details about how it finally happened. It was March 1997. I was over at Gabe and Sheila's apartment. I was waiting to meet him. I was waiting for him to knock on the door. There was some elaborate social event happening that night, lots of people mingling around. Tom was being invited because I was being invited. It was a soft set-up.

We heard a knock at the door. I jumped. Tom walked in. He looked just like he had in the pictures, only better. I reached for his hand. "Hi," I said, a little too enthusiastically. "You're Tom!"

I like the way that part of the story wraps up. It is a neat little conclusion. Girl admires boy from afar. Boy chases another girl to a different state and then endures a rough breakup with her. Original girl swoops in to assist him in mending his broken heart. I like the fact that I knew all about Tom, five years before I actually met him. It all reminds me of a poem I heard once, which began with the songful line:

"The one I wanted came to me."

The rest is history.

OK, the rest isn't really history, like "fade-to-black," or whatever, but our sleek new G4 just arrived and I really want to go admire its glossy lustre. If we're all lucky, I'll include some pictures next time! I know you just can't wait for that!

I'll try to pick this up a bit later and share one or two amusing details about our engagement.

The secret song: "Sundown" by Gordon Lightfoot.

As in, "Sundown, you better take care/if I find you've been creepin' round my back stairs."

This is one of the few songs I know of that can make me feel good no matter what. I think it has a lot to do with the terrific harmonies. And it's really a terrific sing-a-long-er. It seems to fit right in my vocal range, and it's so easy (and so satisfying) to sing it at full volume.