In the fall of 2004, I moved from Asheville to Colorado to take care of my brother who was dealing with Soft Tissue Sarcoma and going through chemo and radiation treatments. Since I was a young, free-wheeling spirit (and, of course, a great big sister) with nothing grounding me other than a puppy I'd had for 6 months (who stayed behind with a friend), it was an easy choice. I moved the majority of my belongings, since I wasn't entirely sure if I would move back to NC in 4 months. The job I'd had over the summer just ended and I had wanted to move back to Colorado ever since leaving two years before.
I lived in Boulder and had a job as Loaned Executive for the United Way of Larimer County in Ft. Collins (where I'd worked from April '01-Sept 02') and as an intern at Outward Bound West in Golden. I remember when I first arrived, I woke up at 8am on a Saturday morning and felt guilty for not already being awake and doing some athletic pursuit along with every other resident of Boulder. That is how Colorado is - you feel like you're missing something if you are not outside doing some extreme sport.
Having also moved for the subtle reason of being stuck in relationships, fed up with apathetic men, and frustrated by the lack of good guys out there. I was on a mission to figure my life out and come to terms with the state of single-dom. During my time in Colorado two important revelations changed my life:
1. Since I, like many other girls out there, go through life thinking (
assuming) that I'll end up married with kids, I had come to the point where I needed to come to terms with the fact that I might actually end up single, not married, and without kids and I needed to be okay with that. Having this HUGE revelation felt very free-ing, like a big weight had been lifted. Maybe my path wasn't to be the nuclear family, maybe I was meant to travel and never settle down? Maybe there wasn't a Mister Right out there waiting for me.
2. My good friend Dawn recommended a book called "He's Just Not That Into You," based on the famous
Sex and the City episode where Miranda comes to that revelation. Basically the premise of the book is that if a guy is into you, he'll let you know. If he's not into you, he won't call, he won't ask you out, he won't tell you he loves you. Women, in response to most men and their signals of rejection, continue to live with delusions that their guy will change, or he has a good excuse, or that he's just not an affectionate person. When the reality of it is, he's not into you.
This.book.changed.my.life. It's a pretty fluffy read, but a light bulb went off after reading it (in, like, an hour) and I realized how much time I'd wasted and how many guys I'd gone through hoping they were the "one" when clearly their signals, their words, and their apathy pointed otherwise (and, of course, the ultimate demise of the relationship was proof).
With these two revelations under my belt, I took a more open-minded approach to dating and my future - releasing myself from the pressure of finding the perfect guy or even having a relationship at all. That's when I decided to test out
match.com.
Back in the day, a man and a woman were betrothed to each other by their parents - matches usually made to expand an empire, increase capital or social standing, or to test the theory of natural selection. Then came the age of free-love where people met at Woodstock and lived in VW buses and in communes, and ended up having "open" relationships. Then there was speed-dating where you had 5 minutes in a bar to guess at whether you had met the love of your life. Then, of course, there was the Internet and the premier match-making websites match.com and e-harmony.com that took hold of the dating-sphere in the 2000s. These websites afforded users to have an online profile that they then could use to search for someone else by plugging in your wish list of credentials and taking courtship virtual.
Now, my desire was to use it as a tool to just kind of see what was out there. I like to think of it as a sociological experiment. Was this really the new wave of dating? Was this the future of relationships? I figured in the information age, it can't be just about getting lucky and meeting someone by chance through a friend, at a bar, or that your parents choose. It had to be on a different level of networking, so why not?
I signed up for a free three-day trial and dutifully filled out my profile (wish I still had what I wrote, but I remember things like traveling, food, films, and being a Virgo being at the forefront of my bio) and started searching for what was out there. I should note that I opted not to post a photo of myself...I think because I didn't want my looks to be a factor in my date-ability (or something really high and mighty like that, but maybe I just didn't have one handy...I can't remember). By this point, I had decided to move back to NC, so I started my search of the Asheville pool.
Not surprising, there wasn't much to choose from within my criteria, but I remember one picture really sticking with me (round glasses, hand reaching towards the camera, pipe in his mouth - did he smoke?, gorgeous boy-ish face).
His profile said he had gone to Warren Wilson College, which was the first potential hang up. I'd dated a WWC-grad and found them to be either dirty, hairy patchouli-loving hippies or really smart, open-minded, industrious-types. It was a gambit as to which this one was, but other items in his profile struck me.
Amelie was one of his favorite movies. He was a Pisces. He owned a wood-fired pizza oven. And that photo...
I decided to email him, just to put myself out there. After all, what did I have to lose? This was my experiment and rejection is easy if you haven't really met the person. I titled the email "Go Owls" referencing the mascot of WWC, of course, and to showcase my worldly brilliance and wit.
I sent that message on Sunday, November 7th 2004 to his AOL address DJRhinehold (which begged one of my first questions...what does that mean?)
Amazingly, he responded and we bantered back and forth over the next week. The emails got longer and longer with more epic, life stories packed into them. The question arose (as was admitting his fear that I was really ugly) as to why I hadn't posted a photo, so I emailed a few, which sealed the deal. That following Saturday, he called me, as we had arranged, and I screened the call. For wanting to be straight forward in relationships, I decided to play that game. I wanted to hear his voice first and was so nervous to actually talk to this person who, for the past week, seemed absolutely perfect. For me. Maybe I just wanted the ball to be in my court. Regardless, I called him back when I got up the nerve a little later and we talked for four hours straight. An initial good sign.
The next morning, he called me at 10:30am (7:30 his time and he had stayed up well past 1:30am talking to me the night before) just to say how much he had enjoyed talking to me and couldn't wait to talk again. Oh.my.god.I.have.met.the.man.of.my.dreams.ONLINE. Monday morning I canceled my three-day free trial.
We talked every night after and we both quickly realized that this was really something (and both couldn't believe it, either). By chance I was flying to Raleigh, NC for a friends wedding the weekend of November 26th and mentioned it as an option for us meeting sooner than my post-Christmas return to Asheville. After requesting an additional guest last minute from Annie who was getting married (thank you, for saying it was OK!), and making sure my host/floor where I would be sleeping was all right with me having a guest, too (thank you Priscilla!), we had set the date to meet in person.
Now, with knowledge that there can be freaks on the Internet, I was still a little wary that my dream boy might be a psychopath, so I enlisted my friend Lydia to do a little reconnaissance mission in Asheville for me. Every Thursday night, Michael played with his jazz ensemble Jar-e at a restaurant called Tomato. I sent Lydia that way and, as it turned out, two of my other good friends, as well. I had already waxed poetic about our budding love affair, which piqued her interest in this person who had possibly stolen my heart. From his recount later, she entered the restaurant and immediately announced to everyone "Where's Michael?" with authority. And then she proceeded to
completely understand why I had fallen for him. The following Friday night ALL of my friends trudged up to his wood-fired pizza oven business at Dogwood Hills Farm in Weaverville where they were doing the post-Thanksgiving, Friday night pizza night thing and everyone was in agreement. "He's perfect!"
The next day, November 27th, Michael drove to Raleigh-Durham to meet me for the first time, in person, at
The Regulator Bookstore - nice and neutral territory, of course. I came armed with my friend Priscilla, who at 5'1" was to be my body guard in case all of my friends had been wrong and he was a nutcase. We parked across the street and I wore my most fabulous Parisian-inspired (and purchased) outfit - denim jacket, black wide-leg pants from Zara and my black of-the-moment Puma Mostros. An outfit that clearly stated: "I am your future wife."
As we walked to the bookstore, we walked past a table on the side walk where a guy was sitting drinking tea (and I thought smoking, but was wrong). I knew it was him - just as nervously doing some sidewalk recon. Priscilla left me in the bookstore to look awkward. I couldn't exactly go up to anyone and say, "Um, excuse me, are you by any chance the love of my life?" So I stood there pretending to be interested in the bookshelf near the front desk and half turned towards the door so I could see who was coming in out of the corner of my eye. Then...he did...and I pretended not to see him until he walked right up beside me. Every nerve buzzed and every hair follicle stood on end. He walked up and leaned slowly against me - shy, but familiar, as if we had known each other our entire lives (or we knew this was just the beginning of our life together). I remember him being shorter than me and absolutely adorable, dressed in a blazer and jeans.
We both tried to play it cool with a hug and sat down on a bench making small talk. I promptly found a baby name book and thought it would be funny go peruse it for, you know, the NAMES OF OUR FUTURE CHILDREN! I can't remember how long we stayed there, but eventually we decided to head out for a walk (helps to cool the senses) and ended up walking along the train tracks nearby. I have no idea what we talked about. But we were both petrified and, I think, immediately saw the writing on the wall. Later that afternoon, after an awkward lunch with Priscilla at Elmo's, it was time to head to the actual wedding that I was there for. At the wedding reception at
The Matthews House, we snuck upstairs in search of the guest book, but really for a first kiss. Later, I caught the bouquet and he knew it was really over then. We read the New York Times together on Sunday morning and he drove me to the airport on Monday morning. Our next emails were basically - "let's stop talking about
if, but when."
In the following weeks, we continued finding quite a few similarities (both had teal green Subaru station wagons) and potential chance encounters that never happened (both were at the Ladysmith Black Mambazzo concert at The Orange Peel and were part of the standing crowd at the back; I had called the Underwood Baking Company (his wood-fired pizza oven business) to ask for a donation of pizzas for a dinner for staffers at 3D Life Adventures - never got a call back that time). It was a relationship that was obviously meant to be. When we met again in California after Christmas (I was there visiting my family after having driven down from Oregon to see him; he was there with friends to go snowboarding, which never happened), we spent another whirlwind week together. He met my dad and brothers (pass, pass, pass) and then we survived the two 24-hour drives back to Colorado to pick up my belongings, then North Carolina to move me back home. We figured if we could make it through that, we could make it through anything.
Once we returned to NC, we progressed as a normal couple does...moving in together, hosting dinner parties, meeting each others friends, planning trips together, and everything else. He derailed several life-altering plans I'd already had in the works. I was on the verge of joining the Peace Corps and moving to Uzbekistan and then becoming a wilderness therapist with Second Nature. (Where would I have been had THOSE worked out?)
The following November marked our one-year anniversary, so of course I had planned everything out. Since we couldn't decide when our first "date" was, I opted to celebrate our first email, first phone call,
and first meeting each about a week apart.
For the first email, I got us a couple's massage. For the first phone call, I made an extravagant dinner from
The French Laundry cookbook. Since we were in Oregon for Thanksgiving on the anniversary of our the first meeting (Nov. 27th), I had concocted a truly brilliant plan: a picnic on one of my favorite beaches, Cannon Beach. But it gets better.
Unbeknownst to Michael, I had casually mentioned to my dad that we were most definitely getting married and he casually mentioned that he had a few family rings that I might be interested in. Actually, I might have started the conversation saying I was going to ask him to marry me and needed a ring, but I can't remember. Regardless, I wasn't really interested in a big, flashy ring. I'm a subtle, classic type of person and at the time really wasn't a jewelry person, but I allowed my dad to send along some pictures. When I got the ones of my Aunt Marion's wedding ring set, I knew those were
exactly what I wanted. They had a lovely 20's Art Deco vibe with baguette diamonds and small studs - matching each other and set in platinum and (best of all) they belonged to one of my favorite relatives of all time. It was an easy decision and he sent them along. I could barely contain myself the day they arrived. I actually called Lydia in a flurry of excitement and had her meet me at the EarthFare parking lot just so I could show them to someone and let her in on my secret plan.
I took them in to get sized at a local shop, so that I could have them back in time for our trip to Oregon. Prior to the trip, I had made the "necessary" calls to his mom, his dad, and his Ol' Ma...not to ask permission, but to let them know what I was going to do. I think they were a little thrown off that I was "asking," but they were good sports.
Over the Thanksgiving trip we went wine tasting, visited family and wandered around Portland. We had planned a visit to one of my favorite locals - Cannon Beach - on the 27th. One the drive over, I remember us talking about our future and Michael said: "You know, when we get back, I think we should start looking for rings." (Hehe!)
It was overcast and cold, so we got some coffee (I got an eggnog latte) while waiting for Will and Mom to arrive about 45 minutes behind us. My window of opportunity was short as we started to walk along the beach. I waited for the perfect moment when not many people were around (I'm an introvert, remember) and Michael had wandered ahead taking photos, so I bent down and started writing in the sand. "Marry (with an arrow pointed at me)" He came back my direction as I just stood there (also hoping that he would notice before the waves came in and washed it away) until he looked down. It took him a minute, then realized what I it said. I think at first, he thought it was a sweet sentiment, but obvious, since we had been pretty clear about our plans to get married for almost a year. But then....THEN...I pulled out the ring. My ring, that fit my finger. So, I didn't give him a ring, but I did ask HIM to marry ME. Take that convention!
He cried.
Then my brother walked up and took the photo above - one of my favorites of us. And then we told everyone - though I made him cry more when I said I had already "asked" his mom, dad, and Ol' Ma. Yeah, I rocked it. The rest is...well history.
We planned a beautiful wedding for October 28th at a farm. It was the best day of my life and absolutely perfect in every way. Even the below freezing weather (it wasn't raining at least!) Now, here we are five years later. Still blissfully happy. Who would've thought those three fateful words would change our lives.
It's here. The one year old (no, not a future table dancer!)
