Tuesday, February 15, 2011

A Real Valentine

Today is really Valentine's Day for Jeff and me. We met 17 years ago last August when Jeff showed up for the first day of teacher inservice wearing a heavily starched, long sleeved dress shirt, tie, slacks, sport coat, and well-shined lace up shoes. If you've ever been to Kingman, Arizona, in August you might know that this attire is 1) terribly hot in the midst of 115 degree heat and the humidity of monsoon season 2) horribly over dressed for anything short of a (very) formal, high-class wedding 3) completely out of place amidst teachers dressed in cut offs, flip flops, and oversized cotton t-shirts because they will be sitting through meetings and decorating rooms in a school running on swamp coolers rather than air conditioners.

So, here's the scene: the entire faculty is lounging across hard chairs in the cafeteria trying not to sweat on the handouts the presenter is passing around, when in walks tall, thin, and formal - with a briefcase. All eyes in the room follow him as he finds one of the last empty chairs near the front. Whispers break out, creating a palpable undercurrent of curiosity. The people at my table - degenerates all - begin making wise cracks about the man's attire and how stuffy he must be to wear such things. On the other hand, I am intrigued by the guy's style. At the first break, when he is sitting all alone looking like a lost kitten, I invite him to move to our table. (Of course, the idea that I would do such a thing throws the entire group I'm with into deep consternation and they begin to question my sanity.) Alas, never being one to give in to peer pressure, I talk to him anyway (and forgive him when he mimics my Southern drawl).

Ultimately, Jeff moved to my table and we hit it off from the moment he sat down. His soft brown eyes invited confidence and his constant stream of jokes kept me giggling, even when I shouldn't have been (which is probably why I liked him so much). As the months progressed, we became best friends hanging out at the movies, picking up pizzas, or just talking on the phone while we watched the same t.v. shows. We learned we shared the same values, the same type of upbringing, the same sense of humor, but we were very different, too. He introduced me to opera and Broadway, while taught him Garth Brooks tunes. He took me out for basic meat and potatoes fare while I grilled shark and created Italian feasts in my apartment. By the time February 15, 1994, rolled around, we were inseparable, yet had only held hands on one occasion. So, when Jeff called me at 8 p.m. on a school night and asked to come over, I thought something terrible had happened. "Who died?" I wondered as I waited for him to make the seemingly eternal 10-minute trek from his place to mine. When I opened the door, he paced inside quickly, looking upset.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I think I love you," he said breathlessly.
"Thank God!" were the first words that sprang from my mouth. And the rest, as they say, is history. We hugged, kissed, laughed and cried all at the same time, and he asked me to marry him, to which I promptly replied, "Of course!"

Within a few days we began to plan a wedding, but after thinking about using the money as a down payment on a house, we opted to elope. So, about a month later - on spring break - we exchanged vows in front of a justice of the peace, a cute little bunny rabbit, and the Pacific Ocean while standing on a cliff overlooking Pebble Beach in Carmel, California. The next day we drove up the coast highway to San Francisco where we spent the first of many vacations together exploring the city and reveling in each other's company.

Ever after, we celebrate our own Valentine's Day on February 15 with our own little ritual. Each year, Jeff asks if I would marry him all over again, and each year I say, "Of course!"

No comments:

Post a Comment