Serendipity in the Cafeteria

Recently, I read a "how we met" story in one of the journals I follow.  I always enjoy reading these and, of course, love to tell about my own experience.  Here's mine.

I first met my future husband when I looked up across my high school cafeteria to see this guy staring at me.  We had been alternately staring at each other for several minutes before we both misjudged and looked up at the same time.  I still recall the burning blush of embarrassment that seared my face.  I was well brought up, after all, and had been taught long since it was rude to stare.

This happened in the spring of my sophomore year of high school.  I had stayed after school to make up a French test.  This fellow was just hanging around talking with some friends.  I was staring at him because I was fascinated by how strange looking I thought he was and I'd never seen him anywhere before that afternoon.  Apparently, he was staring at me because he thought I was incredibly beautiful.  Yeah, right!  I was 15 years old.  I don't think I was.

He boldly walked over and sat himself down opposite me and we had a surprisingly pleasant conversation.  A fairly accurate version of this conversation can be found here: 

A Spring Meeting

After that initial encounter I saw him regularly at the same place and time each morning.  It turned out he was taking a girl who was in my homeroom class to the prom in the next couple of weeks.  Homeroom classes were alphabetically assigned and, therefore, I spent my first class of all four years of high school with the same kids whose names ended in A's and B's as well as always having the same group of lockers.  This girl's locker was near mine and each morning this fellow would be waiting for her and each morning he greeted me with a very pleasant hello.  I was extremely young and inexperienced in the ways of dealing with the opposite sex and didn't know what to make of this young man.  I just laughed at him.  Every morning.  Each day.  This went on for quite some time.  When the prom had come and gone, he stopped dating this girl and I never saw him by my locker again.  He never approached me againwhatsoever.

The school year ended, I finished tenth grade is a satisfactory manner and the peculiar fellow, who was a senior, graduated from school and out of my life.  I clearly remember showing my mother his picture in the senior section of the yearbook to show her the weird guy who talked to me back in April.

"Look, Mother, this is the strange-looking fellow I told you about, right here."

"I don't think he's strange-looking at all," said Mother, "I think he looks rather nice."

"Oh, but Mother!  He didn't look like this at all!"

During the summer vacation I turned the magic age of sixteen.  I returned to school in the fall ready to embrace my junior year and much to my surprise, I saw this very same strange guy in the hall as I passed from one class to another every morning.  How could this be?  He certainly wasn't stupid.  What happened?  Each morning I passed him going in the opposite direction and I got nary a smile, a glint or a smattering of recognition.  Remember, after all, I had done nothing but laugh at this fellow after our initial conversation.  I guess he had his pride.  September rolled into October and October dissolved into November and I continued to be the dateless wonder I had been since my freshman year.  I was getting desperate!  I wasn't looking for lifelong commitment here--I just wanted to go out and have a good time.  That's all.

On Monday, November 3, the phone rang in the evening at my house and wonder of wonders, it was for me.  It was this guy. 

"Do you remember me from the cafeteria?"  Um, yes, I certainly did.

"Would you like to go to the concert at the high school with me Thursday night?"  I had learned from a previous disastrous rare date not to say yes immediately no matter how anxious and desirous of going out I was.  I told him I'd have to think about it.  I sounded cool as a cucumber on the outside; I was sweating bullets on the inside.

"While you're thinking about that, want to go to the Homecoming Dance with me Saturday night, too?"

Oh wow, a double-header coming straight at the dateless wonder who'd been nowhere with anyone for what seemed like forever.  The imp in me told him I'd have to think about that as well.  We agreed upon a place to meet the following morning so I could give him my answer.  I really didn't have much of a choice here.  I so very badly wanted to go out.  What did I have to lose?  Well, possibly life and limb but those items seemed trivial at the time and I decided to say yes...to both invitations.  As I approached him the next morning, I though this fellow didn't look anything like I remembered.  He looked pretty good.  In fact, it was downright amazing how much he resembled that senior picture I showed my mother.  I told him I would go out with him and he gave me the biggest smile and said, simply, Good News!  He was charming.

Our first date was Thursday, November 6 to the concert.  (I later discovered that I had the dubious distinction of being the fifth girl he had called to go to this event.)  We had a great time and talked and talked and talked.  When I got in his car that first time, I experienced the strongest sensation that I had known and been with this person before.  This, so far, has been my one and only brush with a supernatural-type feeling but there was no mistaking it that evening.  I felt so comfortable with this young man; I knew we'd been around together before.  Why didn't I feel this when we first encountered each other?  I think I was so nervous that I was totally nonreceptive to any such feelings at the time.  Our second date (the double-header, remember?) was Saturday, November 8 to the Homecoming Dance.  We had a fabulous, incredible time that night.  Monday morning, November 10, 1969 arrived and by 8:23am, we were going steady.

Naturally, I soon discovered why he had to return to high school to repeat senior year.  He failed chemistry and needed the credits in order to get into college.  My husband had a tendency to be rather tactless in his youth.  He was right on the cusp of failing and a rude but truthful remark to his teacher resulted in his failing grade.  He worked things out very well for himself.  He came to school for the first half of the day to make up his chemistry class and took some history and English classes to fill out the morning.  He then left for work for the other half of the day.  It was a perfect arrangement.  I've often wanted to find that teacher and thank her for being responsible for causing his return to high school. 

We've been together for close to 35 years and married for over 30.  Imagine that!