That’s me--well, sort of. I’m the girl that stole a sailor’s heart. More than that, I’m the girl he proposed to and married. He was out drinking with some friends the evening we met. Astonishing, isn’t it? Well, as luck would have it, I happened upon that same venue. Notice how it changed to a venue.
There was some science that brought us together. Perhaps it wasn’t science, but rather just meddling mutual friends who wanted to bring us two crazy kids together. Well, we met. We smiled. We agreed to keep in touch, and he gave me his number (leaving the ball in my court). Fast forward two weeks, I had just returned home from a spur-of-the-moment solo vacation to San Diego (ah, those were the days). I decided to give him a call and see what he was doing the next weekend.
He answers his cell and the background is abuzz with music and voices. It turned out he was having some drinks with some old shipmates that just pulled into port. He apologizes, takes my number and says he’ll call me back the following day. He did and we talked on the phone for hours—literally. It was all very sweet, new relationship kind of chat. Our first date was to be that weekend. The afternoon before our first date, he sent me a single red rose at work. Cliché? I didn’t care. I was smitten at this gesture, and I will always remember this fondly.
Flo’s post about her boyfriend’s homecoming reminded me of this. It’s the littlest moments of happiness that can give you strength in riding out the ebbs and flows of being a military spouse.