Two cups of coffee, and one complete life

Something happened this past Sunday that I was fairly certain would not occur in my life: I asked a woman to marry me, and she accepted.  I'm sure any competent therapist could spend plenty of time figuring out why I would say that I was certain that I would not get married ever, but only one thing had led me to this assumption.  I was happy living life single and saw no reason to ever want it to change.

In fact, I was so adamant in my love for the single life that I chose to go public with it.  I saw an article in a section of the Sunday paper asking for single men over the age of 35 to participate in a group discussion on why you enjoyed being single, and I decided to respond.  I was invited to attend a meeting with the reporter that would lead to my appearance in an article on bachelorhood.  It was OK.  I was low key and thought I was one of the better men represented in the piece.  I was surprised, however, at an inclusion at the very end of the article that invited anyone who might be interested in contacting any of the men in the article to email the reporter.  She would then pass it on to the participant.  Frankly, I was embarrassed to read that, and had I known that was going to be part of the article, I would have declined to be a part of it.  I'm not saying that to be snobbish, it is just not my style.

I was fortunate enough to receive a few forwarded emails of people who were interested, and I felt it was right for me to acknowledge them.  It had to take a certain amount of courage to contact someone you had just seen in the paper but did not know.  I thanked them for their interest and mentioned that I would be open to meeting, but I was leaving for a week's vacation that next day, and upon returning home I would be moving to a new apartment. 

Two weeks later, when I was back from California and settled into my new place, I made a date with a girl named Kristen, to meet at a local restaurant for a cup of coffee.  The date is now forever etched in my mind, April 12, 2003.  It was cloudy, windy and cold.  But I also have to admit that I was not nervous.  Here I was, meeting a woman for what was essentially a blind date, except she already knew what I looked like, and there were no nerves at all.

The restaurant was very crowded, and I have never felt more on display than I did at that moment.  After a few minutes, Kristen approached me and introduced herself.  We both got a cup of coffee and sat down at a table that she had been sitting at for a few minutes.

Those cups of coffee lasted four hours.

Now four hours has turned into ten months, and ten months into forever.  I gave Kristen a ring Sunday morning, concealed in a coffee cup, of course (it was empty and clean).  Now I see that ring on her finger, and I think of all of the things that had to happen for us to meet, from me agreeing to appear in that article, her writing to the paper, and I know that this was meant to be.  I believed this before, but now more than ever, that there is a script for everyone, and it is a matter of time before it pierces your life and becomes reality.

And reality is that my single life has come to an end, and I could not be more lucky.

Kristen, all I can say is thank you.  I love you very much.