My husband was my first partner. I never dated before meeting him. Our first date, of course, was the most memorable, though not for the reason you might think.
We met on September 19, 2007 at 3:00 PM at the bus stop near the dentistry department of my city’s university hospital. This was the only bus stop near the university that the bus that drove by my neighborhood did stop at. Since my now husband had decided to meet at the univeristy, this was the easiest.
I arrived at 2:55. He was already there. We walked to the coffee bar in one of the universisty buildings. I ordered a coffee and he ordered tea. As we walked outside, I tripped over a step and spilled my coffee. I panicked and almost went into meltdown.
After I drank the remaining coffee, we sat on a nearby bench. We talked music. If you know me, you know that I have zero knowledge of and hardly any interest in music. I mumbled that I liked world music. My now husband had no clue what it was. When, much later, I played him a CD with Latino music I liked, he joked that if he’d known that this was world music, he might never have asked me on a second date.
He obviously did ask me on that second date. Later, he told me that he’d felt uncomfortable about our first date, but had envisioned us meeting many more times if he asked me on a second date. He was totally right. Here we are 7 1/2 years later, married for 3 1/2 years. We got married on September 19, 2011 at 3:00 PM, so exactly four years after we first met.