In honor of the upcoming one year anniversary of our first date on the first of September, I dedicate this post to my loving husband Michael.  Here’s the back story on how we met . . .

In January 2011, I was reeling from the slow, tortuous death of my non-relationship with my daughter Madison’s father.   I had been seeing him for years on and off and,  after eight years and one child together, he still felt uncomfortable with “titles” or any commitment whatsoever that lasted longer than a head-cold.  So, in January 2011, after Madison’s father had moved on to his next long-term non-girlfriend, I sat down and wrote out my New Year’s Resolution.  “I will go out on one date in 2011.”  That was my entire New Year’s Resolution – go on ONE date.  Easy enough, right?  Hardly.

Fast forward to July.  Seven months had gone by and I had not gone out on a single date.  How was I even supposed to date?

First, I was a busy lawyer.

Second, I was a single mother of a Kindergartener.  It took an Act of Congress to go to the hair salon, much less out on a date.

Third, I was older than I had ever been on a first date and felt like I couldn’t attract a mosquito, much less a desirable man.

Fourth, I didn’t want any strange man (all of whom were assumed to be deviants until proven otherwise) around my daughter.

Fifth, I had not been out on a real date (other than when I would take Madison’s father out and foot the bill) since 2004!  (I was briefly set up with an arborist with a penchant for motorcycles but it fell apart after a couple months when he figured out that I was NEVER getting on the back of his Harley.)

Sixth, and most importantly, I hated men (well, at least one man in particular) and thought it might be better to live out the rest of my days unattached than to suffer the pain of another failed relationship.

So there I was at the end of July 2011 with nary a date to speak of and little opportunity to meet eligible bachelors in my everyday life.  What’s a girl to do?  I had to take affirmative action.  At the urging (read:  begging) of friends, I turned to for assistance.  After a few cringe-worthy dates, I was just about ready to throw in the towel.  But, there was this one guy — Michael, a structural engineer who had sent me a friendly message of introduction my second day on Match.  Initially, I dismissed Michael as being way too nice, intelligent, employed, and emotionally healthy for serious consideration.  We chatted on-line a few times about our children (both of us had one child in elementary school) and our careers, but I didn’t feel compelled to drive by his house in the middle of the night or drunk text him so I thought we lacked “chemistry.”  I did not accept his first two requests for a date.

After about a month of conversing with Michael on-line, I was talking on the phone with my brother Will, and an email appeared in my in-box from Michael:  “I’m going to give this one more try.   Your profile says your favorite restaurant is The Ravenous Pig, and I work nearby.  Would you meet me there for drinks?”  When I read the email, while still chatting with my brother, I said aloud, “Oh, man, this guy is asking me out again.”  Will said, “What guy?”  I explained the situation to Will and he inquired, “What’s wrong with him?”  I said, “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing is wrong with him.  That’s the problem.”  He replied, “Well, why don’t you go out with him?”  I said,  “He seems too nice.  We wouldn’t have anything in common.”  My brother, knowing me all too well, encouraged me to try something different and “give the nice guy a chance” for once in my life.

Me with my sage brother Will

The rest is history.  Michael and I met and, after a semi-disastrous first date, he kept asking me out.  At first, our dates were friendly but far from the emotional rollercoaster ride I remembered from years gone by.  I struggled with thinking that we were just destined to be great friends and to help each other out as single parents.  After all, after numerous dates, Michael had not even kissed me.  Who ever heard of such a thing?

After a month and a half and our fifth date, Michael finally kissed me.  What followed was nothing short of an epiphany.  I realized that I can be wildly attracted to a good man who will treat me well.  Several months later Michael and I were engaged, and we were married last May.  Some people thought we were crazy for getting married after only nine months, but it wasn’t crazy.  Crazy was wasting eight years of my life on someone who didn’t value me.   That was crazy.  What I have with Michael is just right.  And when it’s right, you know it.

And that’s the story of how a bitter spinster with a bum magnet resolved to go out on “one date” in 2011 and ended up a first-time bride at the age of 42.  I’m so glad I listened to my brother and gave the “nice guy” a chance.

Michael loves to quip that he ordered me on-line and got free shipping.  Indeed, he did.

With our children on our wedding day.