This should really be titled, How I Almost Failed To meet My Wife Despite All Of Nature Going Out Of Its Way To Create The Perfect Moment And The Woman Being More Than Willing.
Let me confess a failing. I have been called charming; but I'm not. Charming is being entertaining for a purpose, with an ulterior goal in mind. It is a form of seduction. It is a much more sophisticated state than I will ever attain.
I yearn to be charming, but I am only entertaining. The entertainment is my goal. I want people to be having the best experience possible. And if it comes across as flirtatious at times, just wait ten seconds because I'm about to say something funny that will blow any romantic mood right out of the water.
I met my wife on a hay ride under a full moon. It was our first year in college and we shared a number of classes together as did many of the others on the hay wagon.
She liked me and had even engineered to be seated next to me. I was being entertaining (see above explanation), people were in a good mood, laughing, the moon was shining down, the horses were plodding along their bells gently jingling in the back ground.
There were so many of us on the wagon that we were pressed tightly together. I could feel the warmth of her hip next to mine. Oh yes I remember that part well. Some of the boys had their arms around some of the girls. Some of the girls had rested their heads on the shoulders of some of the boys.
A full harvest moon was shining.
When the axle broke on the cart.
The farmer apologized and we all had to walk back to the farm house together for the corn roast.
There was a light chill in the air and this beautiful woman walking next to me was laughing happily. Did I mention the full moon that rode the skies overhead?
She told me that her hands were getting chilly. I, helpfully, suggested she put them in her jacket pocket.
She explained that the pockets on that jacket weren't deep enough to put her hands in. It was a dilemma and I was a dunce, and her hands were still cold.
Fortunately my wife's best friend, Elaina, was walking behind us with her boyfriend and becoming increasingly exacerbated by my obtuseness. Elaina was not what you would call a subtle woman.
She came up behind me and whispered, loudly, in my ear, "She wants you to hold her hand you idiot!"
My wife smiled at me sweetly.
The moon shone down like the light bulb of a major discovery glowing over my head.
Thus spake zarthustra, from the opening sequence of 2001 a Space Odyssey, was suddenly playing in my ears.
I stopped being entertaining and reached out and took her hand, her small cold hand, in mine. We walked the rest of the way back to the campfire and the corn roast in silence.
That night we sang songs, we laughed some more, we sat close, I put my arm around her.
And then we went our separate ways.
But the next time I saw her at college, I invited her out.
And on that date I did something so stupid she kids me about it still. But that's a story for another time.
a brittle quiet
10 hours ago