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Jess texted me late one night in March 2008 with the message "I've met the girl you're going to marry". I didn't believe her. Jess didn't exactly have a stellar track record setting me up. Although quite perceptive with "inner" beauty, her "outer beauty" compass was a little broken. Until Anna, that is. I did what any guy would do: Googled "Anna Watson" and scoured Facebook for clues. Her then-published "The Yellow Table" blog showed a passion for food and a penchant for dinner parties. Every week I went to church, as Jess continued to promise me that the enigmatic Anna would make an appearance. Every week she didn't. With no further word from Jess, I readied myself for church on Sunday, April 6th. I put on my best V-neck and hoodie, positioning my stocking cap ever-so-carefully. I hoped it would be a late night. At the end of a memorable service (although I don't recall the sermon), I spotted the girl from "The Yellow Table" hovering near the exit. I casually made my way over and "talked" to a "friend" that was standing in her proximity. Unfortunately, she walked on by to the front of the church. When Jess made her way back with Anna, I knew the game: "be interesting but disinterested." Only when I sensed her genuine reluctance to join us for dinner, did I make the wholehearted push. She agreed to join us. After the group headed over to Le Grainne (the local crêperie) I scooted in next to Anna. I engaged the table in broad relationship talk in order to survey the landscape (a common and impassioned topic in small Christian circles). As the dinner progressed, I spent more time talking to Anna and less to the group. I made sure to bring up both tango and sailing, my two most interesting hobbies of the moment. Over dinner, Anna had indicated how inexpensive Buenos Aires real estate was ($30,000 for a two bedroom house in the hippest part of town…I later learned that numbers aren't her strong suit). In a moment of mercurial romanticism, I stated "I don't believe you…if that's so I'll head down there tomorrow!" With my honor on the line, I cajoled two good friends (David Farhi & Jess Minhas) to take an impromptu trip to Argentina. Divinely provident, Anna's boss requested that she take an immediate trip down to Buenos Aires as well (without prompting nor suggestion, mind you!). A perennially poor dancer, I knew that was my time to shine. And shine I did... |
On my "first date" with Jess (as she likes to call it) in March 2008 we talked for hours over sushi. Walking me to the subway she said, "I know the perfect guy for you!" I didn't believe her. I couldn't count the number of set-ups I'd been on over the years (all failed) and the guys I'd met in NYC thus far seemed to fall into two categories: nice boring guys and arrogant boring guys. I did what any girl would do: ignored her comment and carried on with my life. She texted me every week thereafter and asking if I was coming to church, and every week I was busy or out of town, naturally. On Sunday, April 6, 2008 I got Jess's text again. Despite a looming magazine deadline, I dragged myself away from my computer to head to church—unshowered and with minimal makeup, I should add. I promised myself I would be home by 9:30 to finish writing. After the service, I peered down from the balcony trying to find Jess. No sign of her. I was about to leave when I finally spotted her and decided to go say a quick hello before making my exit. Before I could say my hello, Jess grabbed my hand and exclaimed "You're here!!!" and proceeded to drag me across the church in the direction of the mystery man. Jess introduced me to two cute guys and then ran off to talk to someone else. I recognized Brandon instantly as the hot guy that my best friend Jenny had spotted in church months before and elbowed me to point out. I had no idea which guy Jess was trying to introduce me to, but I hoped it was the scruffy guy in the stocking cap. Dinner was suggested. I protested strongly, stating my writing deadline, and then someone mentioned Nutella crêpes... At the crêperie, I was pleasantly surprised when Brandon sat next to me. I was instantly intrigued: the conversation ran from dating to real estate to sailing to travel to tango and eventually, to Buenos Aires. He must have been somewhat intrigued as well, because he asked for my email and promptly wrote me the next day. A flurry of emails, texts, and outings occurred over the next month, and amazingly, five weeks after meeting, we found ourselves in Buenos Aires: he for a quick vacation with friends (and to investigate my claim that there was cheap real estate to be found there), me to report on a story for Culture + Travel. It was a perfect four days: he taught me how to tango, we explored the city, had amazing steak dinners at midnight, and in the process, fell in love. May 13, 2008 , our last night in B.A., was when it all began... | |
When you live with another person for 50 years, all of your memories are invested in that person, like a bank account of shared memories. It's not that you refer to them constantly. In fact, for people who do not live in the past, you almost never say, "Do you remember that night we...?" But you don't have to. That is the best part of all. You know the other person does remember. Thus, the past is part of the present as long as the other person lives. It is better than any scrapbook, because you are both living scrapbooks. 
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