Meeting the loves of our lives

Dear Readers,

Once again, we’re taking part in an amazing GenFab™ blog hop! This time around, the topic is “How I met my significant other.” To read the other participants’ posts, check the links at the bottom of this page. Most of all, enjoy!

Wendy’s story

I was living in Hong Kong when I met my significant other. It was truly love at first sight and my only regret is that it took us so long to find each other.

Sure, okay, I was married. Had been since 1984. That’s a long time and a lot of years under the belt, so to speak. Would I have to give it all up for my new Romeo?

English: Gloria Swanson & Rudolph Valentino in...

Well, hello. My name is Rudolph, by the way, not Romeo. Here, I’ve written it on this piece of paper for you. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was seduced. Bewildered, yes, and even bewitched. This new presence in my life took every one of my waking hours’ concentration. I allowed myself to dream about it at night as well, going over and over what we’d done the day before, thinking and worrying about how I’d behave and perform next time we’d meet.

It was a scary time. Giddy. I never worried too much about my husband, though. I’d think, “Well, he’s got his job and his golf to keep him busy, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much if I take out a little time for myself”. So that’s what I did.

Each week, sometimes even twice, I’d rush to meet the thief of my heart. I couldn’t wait to open myself up to the wonder of this new part of my life. I shared a depth of myself I never knew I had and discovered hidden talents and techniques I couldn’t have imagined; I realized I was more than just a one-note pony, that I was actually capable of taking and being taken to great heights of sensual pleasure.

I felt like a school girl with her first crush. Elated. Unable to think of anything other than my new love. It started to affect my home life: I couldn’t concentrate on ordinary conversations anymore. I found myself humming “our song” at inappropriate times. My life revolved around this passion of mine. But there was no thought of giving up Lars—far from it! In fact, I wanted to introduce them to one another. I was sure we could all live happily together. Was that unreasonable of me?

I proposed a meeting, and Lars, with no visible signs of trepidation or nervousness, agreed.

I had it all worked out: we would meet at 4 pm at a pre-approved location. I got there early, to prepare myself for what was to come. I was nervous. Changed my shirt. Put on some make-up. I felt like I had a frog in my throat. I paced the room. Muttered under my breath, rehearsing what I was to say and do. I didn’t want to screw up or make this more painful than I thought it might be.

Nervous Cats

If I were a cat, this is how I’d look if I were nervous (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Lars arrived at the appointed time, cool as a cucumber, our son in tow. That was a bit of a surprise, but I didn’t let Michael’s presence put me off my goal that day. After all, we were a family; id rather he knew about this sooner than later.

We sat down. I couldn’t look at my husband or my son, knowing I’d lose my nerve if I did. I kept my gaze firmly down, concentrating on what was about to happen. I was here to introduce Lars to my private life, my one and only, and suddenly all the nerves I’d felt before, disappeared when I stood up, walked towards the piano, turned to face the audience and opened my mouth to sing.

I didn’t sing just one song. I sang an aria. A Broadway show tune. I sang in a small ensemble. I sang with the larger group. When it was over, I wanted to keep singing.

A night at the opera

If we’d had a bigger budget, this is how I’d have looked. (Photo credit: phill.d)

As we walked out that night, Lars and Michael turned to me and said (not in unison, that would be too freaky), “Wow, we didn’t know you could do that”.

I’d successfully introduced them both to my significant other. I went to bed that night a very satisfied woman.

Karen’s story

So I was talking to Mitch about the blog the other night. Here’s how it went:

Me: Hey, so did I tell you we’re doing another GenFab blog hop? I’m really looking forward to it.
Him: Cool! What’s this one going to be about?
Me: How we met our significant others.
Him: So…that would be me, I guess?
Me: I don’t really have another significant other, dear.
Him: (a look of slight dread dawning on his face) So…you’d be writing about how we met.
Me: Yep.
Him: The whole story?
Me: Well, yeah. That’s the idea.
Him: But you wouldn’t write about our first date, right?
Me: Aw, come on! That’s a great story! We went bowling, and…
Him: Hey, hey! You took a vow of silence on that one, remember?


It’s totally true. Our first date was spent at a bowling alley. But my lips are sealed re further details. Sorry.

Me: (sulking slightly) That was under duress.
Him: “Duress,” as in we’re still married.
Me: Whatever. Okay, maybe I can talk about how you came into the office when I worked at the university Registrar’s Office, and you wanted to do a course change.
Him: (hesitantly) Okay….
Me: And then you kept coming back, and after a while I realized you were coming to see me, because you can only do so many course changes in one term and still stay registered…
Him: I don’t like where this is heading.
Me: And then I figured out you must really like me, because you brought me a…
Him: Hold it! No. No, you’re absolutely not writing about that. I invoke husbandly veto.
Me: Aw, come on! That was funny! And you were only 17. No one holds things against you that you do when you’re that age.


Where it all began: Paterson Hall, former home of the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences Registrar’s Office. Try saying that on the phone 100 times a day and see how you like it.

Him: Walls and windows. Marriages have walls and windows. Walls to keep certain things private, windows to look out on the world. This one stays behind the wall.
Me: (definitely sulking now) Right, yeah, okay.
Him: Look, can’t you just say we met at university?
Me: I wasn’t going to university. You were. I was working for a living, I’ll have you know.
Him: (sighing) I know, I know. And then I came over to your house and ate all your granola, and you couldn’t afford to buy more because you were working for minimum wage, and you had to live on…what was it again? Gruel? Grasshoppers? You might have mentioned this once or twice over the past 30 years.


It’s true. He did eat all my granola. He had the metabolism of a blast furnace. And I was very poor. Not that he cared. (Photo credit: The Spiffy

Me: There’s no need to be sarcastic.
Him: Moi? Sarcastic?
Me: Listen, I don’t want to talk about this any more.
Him: So…I call it a draw, then? I don’t talk about your stuff, you don’t talk about mine?
Me: Fine. You win. I’ll just write about how you censored me.
Him: Aw, poor Gnoogs. My heart bleeds cold borscht, as they say in the old country.
Me: You stink.
Him: So do you, dear. So do you.


30+ years of love, fun, and really stupid conversations later…not too shabby, considering!

To read more of the Generation Fabulous (#GenFab on Twitter) posts in this blog hop, you can start with any of these great links:

How—and Why—I Met My Husband  (

How I Met My Husband (

How I Met My Husband (

Shopping at the Man Store (

A Date with Destiny (

Soul Mates and Angels (

How I met the Big Bison (WildLifeInTheWoods)

How I Met My Husband (

It takes two to make a thing go right (

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51 thoughts on “Meeting the loves of our lives

  1. I love both of your stories!

    Wendy, you had me wondering; I thought you were going to coerce your husband into getting a dog. That says more about me than you.

    Karen, love the “windows and walls!” You very funnily did not tell your story!

  2. Both fun stories! I love that Wendy found a passion aside from the people in her life and Karen’s conversation really reveals a lot about that marriage! I didn’t tell my husband about this blog hop. He might figure it out eventually.

    • Thanks! It’s actually an old social work phrase…an annoying part of having been a social worker for so many years is when husbands and family members start repeating your own jargon back to you.

  3. I thought , Oh, Wendy, Juicy! Totally had me going!!!
    Karen, If you read bloghop post you will see I have to practice witness protection gag order tactics too! When I hear from any family member, “Well you know….” I eye roll and whine “no one reads my blog”, but I am compliant!

  4. Wendy, loved the twist at the end of your story. My blog has been my secret love for a long time, now it’s part of the family. So French, don’t you think? Karen, my hubby doesn’t like me sharing our stories either. Love the conversation :)

  5. Those were both excellent tales. Wendy, you totally got me. I didn’t see it coming until the end. And Karen, tell your husband that my husband sympathizes. The life of the mate of a blogger is fraught with peril. How well my mate knows that one.

    • Hi Chloe, thanks for the compliment! These were fun posts to write, especially considering we’d just been handed restraining orders from our husbands. That just made the challenge more interesting, as far as we were concerned.

    • So true! I could just as easily have written about my love for SweeTarts, which used to be the “love that dare not speak its name” around my house. Or Karen could have spoken about all things woollen; we have many loves in our lives, it’s hard to narrow them down to just one!

  6. OK: Singing for Wendy, then. Had no idea till the end of Wendy’s part.
    Karen, I didn’t even ask permission this time. I encouraged him to read it. He was irritated with me about something else, and he swore he wouldn’t. One hour later, he left a comment on the post.
    It’s far too interesting for a human being to know something has been written about them, and to know that it’s up on the internet, to NOT check it out.

  7. Well, I enjoyed reading both stories. Looking at the fact that I don’t even read my own writings, always try to keep them short, with this one I climbed Mt. Everest. But you know what? It was fun, the whole journey.

    You did bring something special as you had mentioned. LOVED it!!

    Carrying smile on my face this moment. Wishing you the same!!!

  8. Pingback: And now for something completely different… | After the kids leave

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