When I first saw her across the crowded room at a college dance, it took my breath away.  But then a friend brought me back to earth with, “Morgs, give it up – she’s taken.”  She was way out of my league.  Who was I, anyway, to think she’d even acknowledge my existence.  Little did any of us know, she would define my existence.

I made a point of talking to her that night, although I’m sure I made no impression.  She and her friends were friends with my friends, and our paths would surely cross again in the future.  I remember telling my compadre, “I’m in Luuuvvvv…,” something we kidded each other about any time we met a girl we wanted to get to know, but this was different.

This girl who captivated me had been dating a guy for several years in high school and into college, and although I was discouraged, I wasn’t deterred.  A year or so later, my opportunity arose.  She was no longer “taken,” and in fact, had dated another friend of mine.  As it turned out, I had dated a friend of hers, so our paths did continue to cross.  When I finally mustered the courage to ask her out, we settled on a safe date, dinner with mutual friends.  The significance of the calendar date, February 14, was lost on me.

We attended different colleges, about fifteen miles apart.  Mine was a predominantly male school, hers one hundred percent female.  When I arrived at her school at the appointed time to pick her up, the girls at her dorm told me that she had gone home for the weekend.  A lesser man might have taken that as a sign and given up on the spot.  Not me – I didn’t even know where “home” was, but I was determined to see this through.  Someone gave me her phone number, and I called her.  She gave me directions to her house, and I was on my way.

When I arrived at her house, she gave me some more troubling signals.  She said her father had become ill and had been taken to the hospital, but she would still go out with me.  At about nine o’clock, she would have to call in, and might have to go home.  I thought this was quite an elaborate ruse, but I was really spellbound.  We met our friends and had dinner, and at about nine, she excused herself to make a phone call.  I anxiously awaited my fate, wondering if I had passed the test, or if her father’s illness was going to be her excuse to end her suffering gracefully.  She came back to the table and announced that everything was fine.  As is turned out, her father had really been taken to the hospital, and this was for real!

What started out on such shaky ground eventually blossomed, and we married and had two wonderful boys.  We still keep in touch with many of our old friends from those days, and every now and then, we reminisce about how we got together.

She’s the type of person who lights up a room when she enters it.  She’s not a showboat, and shies away from being the center of attention, but she has a warmth that makes everyone feel comfortable around her.  She’s classy and sassy, and sometimes a bit brassy.  She more than makes up for my quiet demeanor, and makes me proud to be with her.  She’s a great mother, and as a teacher (now a school librarian), she touches the lives of many young children.  I don’t mind sharing.

Recently, she arrived at a meeting that I was also attending, and sat across the room so as not to disturb the meeting.  As I sat and looked at her, I thought, “I’m in Luuuvvvv…”  Oh, and by the way, Valentine’s Day 2012 is our thirty-seventh together.