DATING & MARRIAGE: Married 12 vWeeks=3 Years
Yes, it’s true. You see, my charming new husband Wally and I quickly figured out that at our age, we’ll probably never make it to a 50-60 year anniversary like so many of you. So, why not have an anniversary
every month? Think of the advantages! In 4 years we will have celebrated 48 anniversaries! We want to keep the romance going in our lives anyway, so why not build in a special day every month? So, we’re doing it. Last Saturday was our 12th week of marriage, or third anniversary.
We went to Maggiono’s for dinner and then we were off to Fullerton to see the Fullerton Civic Light Opera’s performance of “Tin Pan Alley Rag”. Delightful. Now I had arrived home that afternoon hot and tired from work feeling quite old and haggard. But the minute I put on my “magic” dress I was transformed from an aging realtor to, well, maybe a feisty teenager at just the thought of going out with him! Oh, it’s not really a magic dress, but sort of because it’s the dress I had on when I met Wally five years ago. It’s just real simple. A boat neck top, fitted waist with a wide belt that makes me looks better than I am, and a wide swishy skirt that flairs out when you dance. It has simple little red flowers on it. It always takes me back to the first time I laid eyes on Wally literally across a crowded room.
I didn’t want to go to the dumb dance 5 years ago. Tired. At my age I just want to go home after work. But a friend talked me into it. It was a dance sponsored by a Christian group and my friend would drive. Fine. We got half way there and I thought, “Oh, my gosh, what have I done!” I don’t have my own car, everyone there will be half my age, no one will ask me to dance and I’ll be stuck there! Besides all that all the men will be fat, unemployed, looking for someone to support them and have bad breath! Yuck! Who needs it? You could say I had an attitude. Turns out I knew tons of people there from the various singles groups I had circulated in these millions of years. People from St. Andrews, the Crystal Cathedral, Mariners, Cabaret, etc. And most of them knew I love to dance, so I really was having fun and forgot about how old and haggard I must really be.
Anyway, this gorgeous hunk came through the crowd. (I won’t let him read this). Looks like George Bush Senior. Broad shoulders, beautiful smile, his mouth turns up naturally from sheer habit from being so good-natured. We danced east coast swing (the old jitterbug) like we’d danced together all our lives! Then, he disappeared into the huge crowd. I thought, “And that’s the way it goes, the ones I like disappear. The ones I described above always come back. Shoot.” But he did find me again. For conversation, he wanted to know what I do for a living. I stalled. When guys find out you’re a realtor, it’s goodbye. You work on weekends, forget it. But he dug it out of me in his charming way. He said, “Oh, good! I’m a broker!” He snuggled up against me in a slow dance and I thought, “How dare he! I hardly know him”…as I snuggled up to him. The bells and whistles went off like mad. But, I warned myself, he can’t be as nice as he seems. Don’t get too excited. They never are. The phrase” nice man” was an oxymoron to me like jumbo shrimp and military intelligence. There must be something wrong with this guy. He talks like he loves his grown kids, their wives, and the grandchildren, even, well, just people. Weird. Crazy. Because I feel the same. Scarey. I had given up on meeting someone like him. (It was comforting to know we knew lots of the same people. I checked him out later. He is the real thing.)
Well, he did take my number. He did come to Huntington Beach to walk on the pier with me and go to dinner. I thought I’d never see him again once he saw that I am “geographically undesireable” living 35 miles from him. But, the rest is history. He’s passed all the tests and ruined all my suspicions having stood by me through every possible difficulty these 5 years. He’s my best friend, kind, fun, smart, the whole thing. So, for the rest of my life, I’m content to focus on spoiling him rotten—it’s safe to do that with a good man.
You can bet that for as long as the good Lord gives us, we’ll have these monthly anniversaries to celebrate the joy of finding each other so late in life. If you think we’re a little silly, yeah, we are! And we intend to stay that way! Whether it be a simple evening or fancy, hopefully, we won’t miss out on having lots of happy anniversaries together.
every month? Think of the advantages! In 4 years we will have celebrated 48 anniversaries! We want to keep the romance going in our lives anyway, so why not build in a special day every month? So, we’re doing it. Last Saturday was our 12th week of marriage, or third anniversary.
We went to Maggiono’s for dinner and then we were off to Fullerton to see the Fullerton Civic Light Opera’s performance of “Tin Pan Alley Rag”. Delightful. Now I had arrived home that afternoon hot and tired from work feeling quite old and haggard. But the minute I put on my “magic” dress I was transformed from an aging realtor to, well, maybe a feisty teenager at just the thought of going out with him! Oh, it’s not really a magic dress, but sort of because it’s the dress I had on when I met Wally five years ago. It’s just real simple. A boat neck top, fitted waist with a wide belt that makes me looks better than I am, and a wide swishy skirt that flairs out when you dance. It has simple little red flowers on it. It always takes me back to the first time I laid eyes on Wally literally across a crowded room.
I didn’t want to go to the dumb dance 5 years ago. Tired. At my age I just want to go home after work. But a friend talked me into it. It was a dance sponsored by a Christian group and my friend would drive. Fine. We got half way there and I thought, “Oh, my gosh, what have I done!” I don’t have my own car, everyone there will be half my age, no one will ask me to dance and I’ll be stuck there! Besides all that all the men will be fat, unemployed, looking for someone to support them and have bad breath! Yuck! Who needs it? You could say I had an attitude. Turns out I knew tons of people there from the various singles groups I had circulated in these millions of years. People from St. Andrews, the Crystal Cathedral, Mariners, Cabaret, etc. And most of them knew I love to dance, so I really was having fun and forgot about how old and haggard I must really be.
Anyway, this gorgeous hunk came through the crowd. (I won’t let him read this). Looks like George Bush Senior. Broad shoulders, beautiful smile, his mouth turns up naturally from sheer habit from being so good-natured. We danced east coast swing (the old jitterbug) like we’d danced together all our lives! Then, he disappeared into the huge crowd. I thought, “And that’s the way it goes, the ones I like disappear. The ones I described above always come back. Shoot.” But he did find me again. For conversation, he wanted to know what I do for a living. I stalled. When guys find out you’re a realtor, it’s goodbye. You work on weekends, forget it. But he dug it out of me in his charming way. He said, “Oh, good! I’m a broker!” He snuggled up against me in a slow dance and I thought, “How dare he! I hardly know him”…as I snuggled up to him. The bells and whistles went off like mad. But, I warned myself, he can’t be as nice as he seems. Don’t get too excited. They never are. The phrase” nice man” was an oxymoron to me like jumbo shrimp and military intelligence. There must be something wrong with this guy. He talks like he loves his grown kids, their wives, and the grandchildren, even, well, just people. Weird. Crazy. Because I feel the same. Scarey. I had given up on meeting someone like him. (It was comforting to know we knew lots of the same people. I checked him out later. He is the real thing.)
Well, he did take my number. He did come to Huntington Beach to walk on the pier with me and go to dinner. I thought I’d never see him again once he saw that I am “geographically undesireable” living 35 miles from him. But, the rest is history. He’s passed all the tests and ruined all my suspicions having stood by me through every possible difficulty these 5 years. He’s my best friend, kind, fun, smart, the whole thing. So, for the rest of my life, I’m content to focus on spoiling him rotten—it’s safe to do that with a good man.
You can bet that for as long as the good Lord gives us, we’ll have these monthly anniversaries to celebrate the joy of finding each other so late in life. If you think we’re a little silly, yeah, we are! And we intend to stay that way! Whether it be a simple evening or fancy, hopefully, we won’t miss out on having lots of happy anniversaries together.
posted by Ann Baker, Realtor at
7:21 PM
