Monday, March 22, 2010
Mat and I had been married just months earlier, on the first anniversary of our having been introduced. I vividly recall the night we met, and the amazement with which I admired his 1) eyes, 2) intellect, and 3) sexy arms (not necessarily in that order). I had never before fallen for eyes on the first date, but his are really something. Our middle daughter has inherited them, and they will take her far.
I liked Mat from the moment we met, but practical concerns precluded a romantic interest. I was heading west for a free ride at an Oregon law school, and he was heading north for a Maine-based internship building wooden boats. Still, we had enough in common that our first meeting was followed shortly by another, and another. By our third outing ("date" seems too formal), my law school daydreams had been superseded by adoration for this handsome carpenter. We were in the Harvest Coop in Cambridge, Massachusetts—the three of us, my preschooler included—when Mat and I both felt the undeniable stirrings of love. The fact of the matter is that sexy muscles and clever conversation can reel a girl in, but the way a man grocery shops can land her.
My husband came into my life as a footloose bachelor with a vigorous philodendron. I, being a full time florist and an animal-loving single mother, came into his with three dozen houseplants, two dogs, a cat, two rats, and a three year-old daughter. He adapted with lightening speed, and it is to his credit that he was walking the puppy, singing lullabies, and tailoring his schedule around preschool drop-offs within weeks of our getting serious.
Mat's introduction to my daughter M had taken place at her biological father's apartment. She, two minutes before our arrival, had profusely vomited all over herself and her dad (spoiled watermelon from a tainted salad bar). I will never forget the patience and humor with which Mat waited, allowing X the time to get my girl cleaned up and ready to go. My date was father material.
. . . . to be continued . . . .