Yesterday at work was very tiring, mentally and physically, so last night I mostly laid in bed and vegged and this morning I did the same thing. At least now I’ve had some coffee and cleaned the kitchen/dining room, which is what I wanted to get done last night. Tonight, I need to go shopping:
-pet food shopping (both kitty and lizard need food)
-Birthday present shopping
Technically there’s nothing stopping me from leaving now. Eh. I’ll leave after I finish this entry. And tonight, I’ll do my nails. Oh, I need to make phone calls. Eh. After I finish this entry.
Lacey texted me this morning asking for advice: whether she should travel this weekend or stay at home and eat s’mores with Katie. She wanted me to decide, but mostly I just asked her questions to get her to think more about each consideration. I think she decided to travel.
Anyway, part of the consideration had to do with Lacey’s new boyfriend. He’s a guy we knew in high school. If they got married, the official wedding announcement would probably say that they “reconnected after high school.” I’m a bit jealous of stuff like that, because when people ask, well, I have to say that James and I met online. Which is not a very exciting story.
I started thinking about “how we met stories” two weekends ago, during the Deb Meyers Memorial Tour. At every single memorial, someone mentioned her relationship with her husband, Steve, and how special it was. I’m not saying that’s weird, bad, or unusual. In fact, it’s pretty typical and should be celebrated. I’m just saying that I remember it distinctly.
Deb was widowed for five years almost exactly before she died. People inevitably asked her why she didn’t bother looking for someone new. She told one of her friends that “men were looking for a nurse and a purse.”
“But,” said this friend, wearing a Jamaica visor and Penguin socks,* casting her eyes around the room, “I think that her relationship with her husband was so special that she didn’t want a new man. She had had Steve for over 30 years.”
I’ve said several times that I stood with Deb over Steve’s body and asked her how they met. But one thing that surprised me at the last stop on the Deb Meyers Memorial Tour was that afterwards, the other Mrs. Meyers, Mrs. Meyers Version 1.0,^ stopped James and I and told us her side of how Deb and Steve met.
They were part of a group of college kids that “ran around together” during Sophomore and Junior year of college at Ball State University. They met at a party and started “going together.” But the summer after Junior year, Debbie was going to study abroad in England. Steven talked with her about it. Deb interpreted whatever he said as him dumping her, so she drove the two hours from her parents’ house to his to give him back all the presents he had ever given her.
From even that little bit, we (or just I?) learned that the catalyst for Steve “dumping” Deb Junior year was her going to England. The rest of the story I knew. But the story continued, a year after graduation.
Steve came to his mother, excited. “Debbie invited me to a party! She wants to see me again!”
I knew from conversations with Deb that she only invited him to her Christmas/New Years party because a friend talked her into it. It had been long enough, the friend argued. He was part of the group. It wouldn’t be weird anymore. Steve and his mother apparently didn’t know that. Neither James nor I felt like telling her now.
“They started going together in February, and they got engaged in April,” finished Mrs. Meyers, smiling.
“That’s interesting,” said James. “Both of our parents got married after a short time dating.”
“I think they just knew,” said Mrs. Meyers.
“Well they did date for two years in college,” I said.
“Yeah, but your parents got married after what — four months?” James said. “And then mine got engaged after two months. But we dated for six years before we got married.”
“Five years. But my parents knew each other for a year or so before they started dating. And like I said, your parents dated for two years in college.”
“They just knew,” Mrs. Meyers insisted.
But I think it’s interested that the Ballad of Steve and Deb isn’t about how they met. It’s about how they got back together again. Just like the interesting part of James and my relationship isn’t how we met, it’s how we stayed together through job loss, career change, and long-distance dating. And so comparing us to Lacey’s latest relationship is irrelevant. Irrelephant.
New adventures will be made.
*Presents from Deb, from various travels and Christmases
^James’ paternal grandmother. Sometimes my sarcastic storytelling gets in the way of clarity. Listen, James’s paternal grandmother is Mrs. Meyers 1.0. Deb was 2.0. I am 3.0. Get it?