Ten Years with Mr. Perfect-for-Me

Sir Renaissance and I met in New York City and it was love it first sight.

Nah, just kidding.

We must have moved there at a very close interval, he from Bristol and I from Paris (ironically).  We met at church, which I suppose to be a step up from the pubs where I would meet my other love interests.  He was an atheist at the time, but new in town, and he thought he might meet some girls.

When I first met him, I bounded up to him and announced that I spoke French (sure that he would be pleased and impressed … and blown away by how beautiful I was).

But he just looked down his little aristocratic nose at me and said, “ewwww.”  I think that was supposed to be “oh” with a french accent; in any case it wasn’t an enthusiastic response.

The encounter left a sour taste in my mouth, but it wasn’t until later that I made a vow that even if he were the last man on earth … okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration … but seriously, it wasn’t until a french friend was getting ready to go hang out with him and I said off-handedly that I should get to know him too, whereupon she turned on me and said, “why? do you like him?’ (because she did, of course) that I said, “oh no no no.  He is totally not my type.”

That was kind of a run-on sentence.

So that started three years of us knowing each other by sight and always saying, “bonjour” when our paths crossed, but never holding a single conversation.  In that time span, I can’t count how many people said I should go out with him, to which I always said, “oh no no no.  He is totally not my type.”

To the point that my dear roommate and one my best friends (who were great friends with him) were also trying to make it happen.  To the point where I was walking with my friend José after a service, asking him who my future husband would be, and … guess who walked in front of us just then.  Yup – you guessed right.  José had already told me that we would be great together so he wasted no time in telling me who my future husband was to be, especially since he happened to choose that moment to cross our path, all to which I replied (say it with me now), “oh no no no.  He is totally not my type.”

And once, we met up in a big group of people and he gave me a hug from the side (our church had the culture of greeting other members that way).  It gave me pause because he had a firm, strong hug – the kind of hug you want to stay in.  I thought, “I bet if we struck up a conversation, he would invite me to go out and we would get to know each other, and maybe go out.  Hm … there’s a thought.”

But in the next instant, I thought, “naaa” and went off to seek out the guy who was my current crush (I have no idea who that was now).

So it was through our two persevering mutual friends that we finally got together.  Sir Renaissance had gone through a recent heart-break, and he decided to pray for a wife.  Not only did he not know what he needed, he didn’t even know what he wanted, so could God find him a wife.

My roommate Neyra gave him my number that same day.

He thought to himself, “could this be the answer to my prayer?  So soon?”  But he didn’t think so.  So he didn’t call.

Personally, I was going through a dating drought, so when I saw his e-mail pop out of a large mass e-mail (the address was very long and all in caps), I decided on a whim to send him an e-mail to say hi.  After all, there was no risk.  He was totally not my type.

The e-mail went something like this:  “Hi, I’m roommates with Neyra and best friends with Betsy.  Everyone said you’re a great friend to have.  We should go out sometime.”
That was it.  He wrote right back and set a date for a couple of weeks later.

On our first date, we went to a café to talk and get to know each other.  We had so much in common right away – travel, classical music, love of children – that I thought, “aw shucks.  This guy is going to be a really good friend.”  (Because, you know, he was totally not my type – did you get that part yet?)

I wasn’t at all prepared for him to take me salsa dancing, or that he would be such a great dancer.  He was just so … white!

I still remember standing there like a deer in headlights as he merengué’d his way over to me and took my hands in a firm grip.  When we started moving, he gave me directions. Keep your arms firm, like that. This is the beat.  Move on this beat.  I was breathless after dancing a couple of songs and I don’t think it was from exertion.  As we walked off the floor, my knees felt like jelly.

I guess he was my type.

Still, I didn’t find him handsome, although I always wanted to stand as close to him as I could.  He was reassuring and strong and I felt safe with him.  Then one day after months of dating (many, many months), the veil was lifted, and I looked at him in astonishment and said,

“Wh .. when did you get so cute?”

I had a dream before going to college that I would marry a French man, and the whole dream was crystal clear and very memorable.  I was walking through a dark forest (but it was the kind that was in a city, like a park.  Like Central Park), and I was hand in hand with someone.  We left the forest and came out into the bright sunlight and sat down next to one another on a low wall.  He said something and I laughed.

I remember noticing that I was so grown up in the dream.  And I realized that the man I was with was my husband and that he was French.   It surprised me because I had only taken two years of French in junior high and two years in high school, and I had never even left the country.  I was also surprised that I could feel so comfortable with him, that I could feel that comfortable with any man, much less one who was from a different culture.

I have a spiritual take on the dream.  I’m a Christian and sometimes I talk about that, but I also have best friends and some family who are Muslim or atheist (as well as a smaller entourage that are Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, etc).  It doesn’t hinder our friendship in any way, and I hope it won’t with you either.

The take on my dream is this: Sir Renaissance and I both came to that church on the same day for the first time.  We were both an hour early because of daylight savings time, although we didn’t meet.  He an atheist, me a believer but living a rather wild life, we studied the Bible for six weeks and got baptized just 12 hours apart from each other.
I was so surprised to find myself in that situation – that I was thinking of making religion a major part of my life.  I’m sure for him it was even more astonishing since he started out thinking there wasn’t even a God.

I remember not being able to commit to the idea, never seeing myself as a religious type, worried that I wouldn’t be able to find a boyfriend as “great” as the one I had left behind because, you know, Christian men are all weak.  “And on top of it, this ex of mine, he was French!” said I.  “What about my dream?!”

The night before I made my decision to get baptized, my fortune cookie said (I kid you not), “Your secret desire to completely change your life will manifest itself.”  And I got baptized the next day.

So if you follow the Scriptures in any way, believe in that kind of thing, you’ll see where I’m going with this.  We did walk out of the darkness and into the light hand in hand because we both started studying the Bible at the same time and got baptized at the same time.  And on top of it, this husband of mine is hardly weak.  I needn’t have feared.

And he is French.  (grin).

A year after we started dating exclusively (which was about 5 months after our first date and 3 years after we first met), he asked me to marry him.

He took me to a french restaurant in SoHo and brought out a little blue box.  Actually, it was … a rather long blue box.  Too long to be what I had been hoping for.  My hopes were all crushed when I opened my anniversary gift and found a diamond bracelet.  (I know, right?).  Now I’m going to have to wait a whole other year in order for him to save up for a ring!  What was he thinking?  (loud sniff).

But it was all a ruse to throw me off the scent.

At the end of the meal and at the end of his saying how perfect I was for him, he pulled out a little blue square box and simply said, “One year is not good enough.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

We got married.

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