The Way We Met

When we taught pre-Cana classes together, my husband and I never got much of a response to questions like "So what made you fall in love?" But almost everyone had a great story about the way they met. My friend Trista, who's getting married super-soon, just wrote a blogpost about how she met her fiance Brian online. So, I figured Manny and I could share our story, as wedding season kicks off. Please tell us about your story in the comments!

Manny and I actually met twice. The first time, we ran into each other by chance. I was crossing the street in one direction, trying to get to work on time. He was crossing the street in the other direction, together with my friend Ayman from college. I waved to Ayman, exchanged a few pleasantries, and zoomed off to the office. The way Manny tells it, he then turned to Ayman and said something like "Who was that?" Ayman told Manny that I was not Manny's type. And that was that. At least for the next two years.

Fast forward to Ayman's big party in Brooklyn to introduce his American friends to his Spanish girlfriend. The girlfriend's name was Eva. Ayman and Eva met in Spain during the Fería de Abril, held every year just after Easter. Ayman caught Eva's attention when he strode up to the stage in the front of one of the immense festival tents and began playing flamenco guitar. Ayman didn't speak Spanish and Eva didn't speak English, so they communicated in French. In the summer that Ayman threw the big party in Brooklyn, Eva had traveled to stay with her relatives in New York to see if there was any future for her and Ayman. (Now they are happily married with two great kids!) Eva's very nice American cousin, also attending the party, was named -- Manny.

Manny approached me at the party and asserted that we had met before. Unfortunately, I had no recollection of that event. "We did meet two years ago," he insisted, "while we were crossing the street." Neon <<STALKER!>> bulbs started flashing in front of my eyes. "Maybe not," he temporized. Ah, and then he quoted Tolstoy. Something about how the course of a man's life could be irrevocably changed because on a certain day he met a certain woman wearing a dress that curved in just a certain way. All was forgiven.

After the party, a few of us went out to a bar to play pool. Manny was a fearsome pool shark. A doctor, who spoke Spanish, and read Tolstoy, and played a mean game of pool. I couldn't resist. As it got later in the evening, he still hadn't asked for my phone number. Oh, well, I thought, dejected. I began to walk out the door. Hearing him call out my name, I turned to look behind me. Casually lounging back on his chair, Manny crooked his finger at me as cigarette smoke swirled around the noisy bar. Roll cameras, please. Then he asked for my email address. {{Sigh.}} I walked out of the bar smiling, and he's kept making me happy ever since.


Crossing Street Photo Credit: Avard Woolaver via Compfight cc