Do you remember when you met your person? I do. It was 1984 and I was 36. Here’s how I met my husband at the best Halloween party ever.
I was trying to channel Elvira when I opened the door to the party. I paused, and across the room, over a sea of drinkers, dancers, and discussions, I saw one guy frozen in time. We smiled acknowledgments and simply watched each other for one beat and then for another. He was dressed like a Greek sailor. Picture the dark navy cap, the collon well-washed loose shirt showing a questionable amount of chest hair, perhaps there was even a gold chain, and in those days, guys’ jeans sported bell bottoms.
I had unsuccessfully over-moussed my hair, so now it was congealing under a fedora. I did not yet know that one reason I would soon fall for Larry was that later that night, he knew when to stop playfully trying to pull off my hat. Perhaps he did not fully comprehend the wreckage he would encounter, but he understood that it was important to me to keep my head covered, and he respected that.
My fake cleavage, enhanced by a Maybelline eye pencil, was peeking out of a boyfriend jacket I had purchased at Goodwill. My jeans were skin-tight, not because I was super svelt or uber cool, but because I had spent the previous year studying for my SEC exams, and eating was part of my success strategy.
Larry remembered that he was impressed that my BYO was a bottle of Medoc. Only later did he know I had selected it based on the best-designed label in my price range. The previous year, I had left a secure college-teaching job to become an EF Hutton trainee, and, struggling with a new career, by Friday nights, I felt like an exhausted hamster on a wheel, perpetually in motion, unable to stop for a breath, running on empty.
The previous week, I had met an artist who was considering a career change and had interviewed me regarding the leap I was making from music to finance. She was wrapping up when she said, “I’m giving a Halloween Party this weekend, and there is a friend of mine you should meet. Are you dating anybody?”
I paused long enough to decide that phone flirtation with the guy 3000 miles away who answered questions on the help desk for newbies like me didn’t count, so I said, “No!” and tonight was the night I was supposed to meet this mathematics professor, this textbook author.
Larry and I have told this story so many times who knows what happened next, but I cherish Larry's version, which, when I showed up much later than anyone expected, includes the words: “To hell with this Janice person I'm supposed to meet, I'll take this one.”
That was on Halloween; I moved in on New Year's Eve; Larry proposed on May Day; and we were married three days later in our backyard, on May 4, 1985.
So here we are, going on years later, growing old together, tolerating and celebrating each other’s foibles, and remembering the best Halloween party ever.
I love this story -- and the pics!
What a heartwarming story that opened the window just a little more to peek into your beautiful journey of life. With gratitude, always!