Recently, we had dinner with our friends Barbara and Fred. I first met Barbara the same day I first met Peter because she had the office next door to mine at my new job. She and Fred, then newlyweds, have now been our good friends for fifty-two years. At dinner, we reminisced about those early months when I was pursuing the nice man who had given me a ride to work for two weeks while I was waiting for my new car to arrive.
I had determined that Peter had a sweet tooth and I would periodically wander by the candy machine at work so that I might “bump” into him. I was extra-careful to look my best in case we might meet.
Barbara reminded me of the time I took care of their Scottish terrier, Missy, while they were away for a weekend. I had just moved into a new apartment and needed the sorts of things you go to a hardware store for. I was afraid to leave Missy alone in my apartment so I walked her to a nearby Sears. I was not extra-careful to look my best just to walk a dog to Sears to pick up some hardware.
I vividly remember that was I carrying Missy in my arms while juggling packages as I rode down the escalator when, lo and behold, I spotted Peter riding up the escalator. There was no way I could hide my sloppily-groomed-self, arms full of a Scottish terrier and hardware from this man I so desperately wanted to impress.
Still, it all worked out.