For your reading pleasure: a true story of a woman at my office, one that made my day a little happier.
I'd like to say that I believe in love at first sight. I think that I do. Of course, I haven't experienced it with anything more significant than a pair of shoes or a really great dress, but hopeless romantic that I am - the notion appeals to me. I don't think it happens for everyone, and I don't think that love at first sight is any more or less real than the kind that is later blooming or fought for, nurtured and cultivated over time. But every once in a while you hear a real-life story that makes a sentimental heart like mine skip a beat with celebration. Goosebumps appear on my arms, a wayward tear may even form in the corner of my eye even making it's way down my cheek, and somewhere in the depths a little part of me celebrates the notion that the stuff of movies sometimes does happen in real life.
A little while ago I was sitting in the kitchen at work eating my lunch and an attorney who is relatively new to the firm came in and sat with me. She's a great lady who I find to be really interesting and incredibly funny so it was easy to chat like girlfriends around the table. She asked me about graduate school, where I'm going and why and all of the details surrounding that subject. As we were going back and forth it of course came out that I went to Westmont. Casually, but with an adorable giggle for a forty-something-year-old woman, she dropped a really great story on me. "You know that stop sign on the way down the hill from campus?" she asked. Of course I knew the exact stop sign she was referring to - I've stopped at it often. "I met my husband there."
Now, if you know me you know that a statement like that really gets me going. I am all ears. I love stories, any story will do. But an out-of-the-box, once-in-a-blue-moon, we-met-totally-randomly-and-still-feel-lucky-that-it-worked-out-so-well-after-all-these-years story is only the best kind! Wide-eyed and excited I dropped whatever I was eating and demanded she tell me the whole story.
This stop sign she's talking about is not on a busy road. It's a regular four way stop and the roads going in both directions are just your average neighborhood type streets - one lane going each way, nothing special at all. Granted, it's an obscenely wealthy area so the streets are lined with (no, not gold) multimillion dollar estates situated comfortably out of reach behind gates and walls. There is little to no pedestrian traffic here, just the occasional Westmont student running down the hill with a plan to catch the shuttle back up, but it's not really a stroll around and meet people kind of neighborhood. Needless to say, I was intrigued by how this whole thing could have possibly gone down.
It's a simple story really, "with a good message," Deb added. She lived at the top of the hill and every single day on her way down to work she would stop at this stop sign. Every once in a while she would notice a cute guy who seemed to be working at the estate on the corner. She'd admittedly look for him while she made sure to stop for the full three seconds at the stop sign and then be on her merry way. Well apparently he noticed her too. Days and weeks went by and they developed a bit of a strangers-in-the-movies type of relationship. He became the cute guy at the estate and she always made sure to smile at him in case he was noticing her too. He was, and he always smiled back. Days and weeks passed and the harmless smile flirting from her car as he opened the gate to the estate each morning continued.
Then. One morning. He went for it. He grabbed the bull by the horns and stood at that stop sign with flowers and waited determinedly for her to come down the hill. When she did, he walked right up to her car window, handed her the flowers and asked her out. She surprised even herself by actually saying yes (I may be a hopeless romantic, but I also have a seriously heightened sense of stranger danger and am not sure I wouldn't freak out at that moment) and he didn't turn out to be a creep. He turned out to be a totally normal and seriously wonderful guy who she is still happily married to some twenty odd years later.
She lit up as she told me the story. She laughed at herself and at him for being so naive, so carefree, so "brazen." But even now, as they are settled into their married life, there was a spark in her eye as she spoke and thought about that moment. It was a great story and she knew it.
So Deborah, I'm sure, believes at least a little bit in love at first sight. No doubt they have put blood sweat and tears into making their marriage last, hard work is part of any healthy marriage. But I love the boldness, the magic and the passion of young love in that story. I don't generally find myself with an abundance of any of those things in my life at the moment, but I believe in their power to change us for the better. Noting that I was single she laughed and told me not to underestimate what could come of any split second exchanges with cute guys I see around town. You never know what might happen. Noted. Thanks, Deb.
But, really. Isn't that a sweet story?
I'd like to say that I believe in love at first sight. I think that I do. Of course, I haven't experienced it with anything more significant than a pair of shoes or a really great dress, but hopeless romantic that I am - the notion appeals to me. I don't think it happens for everyone, and I don't think that love at first sight is any more or less real than the kind that is later blooming or fought for, nurtured and cultivated over time. But every once in a while you hear a real-life story that makes a sentimental heart like mine skip a beat with celebration. Goosebumps appear on my arms, a wayward tear may even form in the corner of my eye even making it's way down my cheek, and somewhere in the depths a little part of me celebrates the notion that the stuff of movies sometimes does happen in real life.
A little while ago I was sitting in the kitchen at work eating my lunch and an attorney who is relatively new to the firm came in and sat with me. She's a great lady who I find to be really interesting and incredibly funny so it was easy to chat like girlfriends around the table. She asked me about graduate school, where I'm going and why and all of the details surrounding that subject. As we were going back and forth it of course came out that I went to Westmont. Casually, but with an adorable giggle for a forty-something-year-old woman, she dropped a really great story on me. "You know that stop sign on the way down the hill from campus?" she asked. Of course I knew the exact stop sign she was referring to - I've stopped at it often. "I met my husband there."
Now, if you know me you know that a statement like that really gets me going. I am all ears. I love stories, any story will do. But an out-of-the-box, once-in-a-blue-moon, we-met-totally-randomly-and-still-feel-lucky-that-it-worked-out-so-well-after-all-these-years story is only the best kind! Wide-eyed and excited I dropped whatever I was eating and demanded she tell me the whole story.
This stop sign she's talking about is not on a busy road. It's a regular four way stop and the roads going in both directions are just your average neighborhood type streets - one lane going each way, nothing special at all. Granted, it's an obscenely wealthy area so the streets are lined with (no, not gold) multimillion dollar estates situated comfortably out of reach behind gates and walls. There is little to no pedestrian traffic here, just the occasional Westmont student running down the hill with a plan to catch the shuttle back up, but it's not really a stroll around and meet people kind of neighborhood. Needless to say, I was intrigued by how this whole thing could have possibly gone down. It's a simple story really, "with a good message," Deb added. She lived at the top of the hill and every single day on her way down to work she would stop at this stop sign. Every once in a while she would notice a cute guy who seemed to be working at the estate on the corner. She'd admittedly look for him while she made sure to stop for the full three seconds at the stop sign and then be on her merry way. Well apparently he noticed her too. Days and weeks went by and they developed a bit of a strangers-in-the-movies type of relationship. He became the cute guy at the estate and she always made sure to smile at him in case he was noticing her too. He was, and he always smiled back. Days and weeks passed and the harmless smile flirting from her car as he opened the gate to the estate each morning continued.
Then. One morning. He went for it. He grabbed the bull by the horns and stood at that stop sign with flowers and waited determinedly for her to come down the hill. When she did, he walked right up to her car window, handed her the flowers and asked her out. She surprised even herself by actually saying yes (I may be a hopeless romantic, but I also have a seriously heightened sense of stranger danger and am not sure I wouldn't freak out at that moment) and he didn't turn out to be a creep. He turned out to be a totally normal and seriously wonderful guy who she is still happily married to some twenty odd years later.
She lit up as she told me the story. She laughed at herself and at him for being so naive, so carefree, so "brazen." But even now, as they are settled into their married life, there was a spark in her eye as she spoke and thought about that moment. It was a great story and she knew it.
So Deborah, I'm sure, believes at least a little bit in love at first sight. No doubt they have put blood sweat and tears into making their marriage last, hard work is part of any healthy marriage. But I love the boldness, the magic and the passion of young love in that story. I don't generally find myself with an abundance of any of those things in my life at the moment, but I believe in their power to change us for the better. Noting that I was single she laughed and told me not to underestimate what could come of any split second exchanges with cute guys I see around town. You never know what might happen. Noted. Thanks, Deb.
But, really. Isn't that a sweet story?
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