How I met and fell in love with my Honey

This one is for Shana, who wanted to know how I met and fell for my Honey.

We didn't know each other before we attended Wolfson High School. If Wolfson hadn't been built, it's likely we would never have met. She would have continued attending Landon, and I would have attended Englewood, just because of where we lived. Our homes were separated by the district boundary, which in that area ran down Beach Boulevard. As circumstances had it, though, Wolfson was built, and for the reasons I described in my previous blog, we both ended up attending school there in the eleventh and twelfth grades.

We didn't meet in our Junior year, so there isn't much to tell about the story of our epic romance for that year. As Seniors, though, we shared several classes, none of which really contributed strongly to the story. The fact is, our first real interaction was a result of our extra-curricular activities. You see, she was a swim-team, and basketball jock, and I was a band nerd.

In connection with our extra-curricular activities, we both frequently had to stay after school, for practice, and usually ended up leaving the school at the same time. I don't know what prompted it, but she must have noticed me hanging around, waiting for someone to come pick me up after practice, and eventually she had enough pity on me to offer me a ride home.

That ride home became a pretty regular thing after a while, and as a result we became close friends, ride buddies as it were.

Now while all this was going on, we still had academic stuff we had to do. You know, attend classes, do homework, take standardized tests... oh yeah... it was one of those that set the stage for the blossoming romance. Everybody knows about the PSAT and the SAT. What many don't remember is that there used to be several other standardized tests administered by Florida school systems. The National Merit Scholarship Examination used to be a separate test. We both took them all, and we both did very well, despite the fact that she was an A/B student, and I was a C student. The real culprit, however, was something called the Florida Twelfth Grade Placement Test. Again, we both took the test, and we both did very well. No, make that exceptionally well. Aw, hell! We both blew it out of the water!

Anyways, the local Lions Club had a custom of throwing a steak dinner for the top scorers on this test, from all the high schools, and guess who got invited? Yours truly, of course. Now knowing my background, you could probably guess that I was not going to pass up an opportunity to eat a steak, so I put on my Sunday best pair of navy slacks, and borrowed my Dad's Church coat, and had my grandparents deliver me to the steak house where the party was to be held. I didn't know that she would be there, although that didn't really surprise me. Prior evidence was pretty conclusive that she had a brain.

What did surprise me was how she looked. You see, when I saw her every day, she actually dressed down, to the point that it looked like she didn't want to be noticed. Long skirts or dresses (in the Sixties! Imagine!), no makeup, and a haircut that looked like it was done with a bowl. I mean, come on! The only time I would see her looking any different was during her sports practises, and believe me, those outfits were not designed to titillate! Anyway, although we were good friends, I never really tumbled to the fact that she was a girl, until the night of that steak dinner. She had really dolled up, and I was devastated. I could hardly believe that she was the same person. I couldn't even converse very well, because my tongue kept flopping around in my mouth when I tried to talk.

When she saw me at the door, she again offered me a lift home, and I vaguely remember waving my grandparents away. I don't remember any of the speeches, or whether or not the steak tasted good. I was too enthralled by this beautiful, exciting woman whom I had mistakenly thought I knew. I believe it was that evening, as she drove me to my house, that I asked her to be my prom date. That apparently came as a surprise to her. She slammed on the brakes, and nearly gave me whiplash. That probably explains why I can't remember if she accepted immediately, or made me wait for an answer. Whichever it was, she did say yes, and I was very proud to have her on my arm on prom night.

Once we started dating, we kept it up through the remainder of the school year, until she went away to college.

Romantically speaking, her sojourn at the University of South Florida in Tampa was a disaster, at least for me. At first, we exchanged letters fairly frequently, and whenever she was at home, we dated. I attended Jacksonville University, full time at first, and part time later on. I don't think I compared too well with the prospects in Tampa, though, because it seemed that as time went on, she was less enthralled with the prospect of seeing me on her infrequent visits to her home. Her letters became shorter, more perfunctory, and less frequent. She spent more time between quarters in Tampa, and took summer classes instead of coming home. When she did come home, it seemed we were always fighting. Eventually, the letters stopped altogether, and I knew I had lost her.

Trying to get on with my life, I had a series of disastrous relationships with a variety of women over a period of about eighteen months. Toward the end of that time, my personal troubles began to spill over into my home life, and I found it necessary to move out of my parents' house. I was estranged from everyone who had ever meant anything to me. The emotional turmoil in my life, and my wrecked financial condition ended up causing me to drop out of college for a time.

I was just beginning to pull my life back together that winter when, well after Christmas, my parents came by the house I rented with one of my friends. They didn't come to bring me any possessions, or to ask for money, or any of the usual reasons that parents look up their adult children. They had a bit of news that they thought might interest me. It seems that sometime over the Christmas break I had received a call from a former girlfriend, and it turns out that it wasn't the first one. She had called around Thanksgiving, too. They left me with the number, and I recognized it as hers. During that visit, they also offered (really, requested) that I move back home, and I agreed.

Inasmuch as Christmas break was long over, I knew she had already returned to school, so there was little chance that I could contact her immediately. I did contact her mother, to find out if she would likely be home for Spring Break. Her mother was cordial, but cool toward me, and provided me with an estimated date when her daughter would return home. I made it a point to call her as soon as she arrived, and she agreed to see me again.

We saw a lot of each other over that break. So much so, that I believe both sets of parents were getting irritated with us. Anyway, by the end of the break, she had agreed to become my wife. I made several weekend trips to Tampa, just to visit her, and on one of those I carried the engagement ring to her. When she graduated, we married, and my memory of the wedding was already reported in a previous blog.

Thats it Shana. As I said before, though, there are two different stories, and I only know mine. If you want her take on the whole thing, you'll have to harass it out of her.