People like to ask couples how they met. In general, I'm OK with that. It is not like it is intrusive or something. But even though it has been just about 7 (or is it 8?) years since Matt and I met, I still don't really know how to answer the question, and it makes me slightly uncomfortable.
All of these are true, valid, and fairly explanatory. But which should I say?
We met...
... through a mutual friend.
... at a dinner party.
... because Matt's housemate at the time was a talkative "ladies man" that sort of tried to pick me up in a coffee shop.
... because I was a single girl with no plans on a Friday night, so when a friend of a friend invited me over for dinner, I jumped on it.
I guess it doesn't really matter.
But, there is this other thing that bothers me about this question. The mutual friend- the precise and actual point of linkage, not the housemate (he functioned more as an intermediary)- is dead. So is his little boy. They were both killed just over two years ago by a drunk driver, in the middle of the day. His wife was not in the car when they were hit.
And I always have this weird urge to tell people that part of the story. I want to say, "We met through a mutual friend. He was a great guy. He and his toddler son were killed in 2007 by a drunk driver." But MY GOD what a horrible way to ruin a conversation at a casual holiday party, or someone's nice little potluck dinner. So I never say that.
But it is true. The person that was fated to be the one that linked Matt and I is now dead. He was a good guy that thought Matt should "finally meet a nice cute girl" and I somehow fit the bill. He was a loving father to a sweet little boy. And they were obliterated five years later by a drunken jerk in a big pickup truck.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I know what you mean. This poem has meant a lot to me in the last few months:
The Art of Disappearing
When they say Don't I know you?
say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say We should get together
say why?
It's not that you don't love them anymore.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.
When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
-Naomi Shihab Nye
Post a Comment