Love is Not a Feeling; Love is a Decision
The courtship of my wife
The day we met.
“Would you like to go for coffee with me?”
A simple request. A reasonable question that a man would ask a woman that he was interested in dating. A query I asked Kristen, a woman who would become my wife of 25 years.
We met in August 1994 at a gathering of mutual friends at a local restaurant. I had arrived first and was enjoying a pasta dish when she arrived with a friend of hers. I tell our kids that when I saw her she had a glow around her; she had the face of an angel.
Not quite. She was beautiful for sure. But it wasn’t love at first sight. I can’t even say that I was particularly interested in her initially.
We were off to a dance club after supper and the drinks started flowing.
I no longer drink at all but back then I loved to. Rye and coke was my cocktail of choice; Molson Dry was my beer of choice. Once I had had a few, my inhibitions fell by the wayside, fake boldness showed up, and Kristen became the woman I pursued.
We danced. Then danced some more. To her credit, she parried my wandering hands and puckered lips. At the end of the night, I had gotten nowhere.
