Thirty years ago today, July 20, 1988, was the beginning of my final moments as a confirmed bachelor. It was a Wednesday, and I had probably come home about 3:30 from my job as an editor at The Beacon Herald daily newspaper and plunged right into fixing up the outside of a home I had bought two years before and in which I still live today. I was 37, living alone with my two cats, Grumbles and Buddy. My weekdays and weeknights were good, lots to do, but I found the weekends increasingly lonely. All my friends were attached and most were raising kids. I spent a lot of free time driving around in my little red sportscar, listening to music and surveying the countryside.
Of course, I had no idea that something would happen the next day that would change my life forever. The Universe knew but kept that secret to itself. Had someone asked me, “Where do you see yourself in 30 years,” I would have probably said, “Living in this house.” And I would have added, “By myself.” I was right about the house, wrong about my other prediction.
When you are single and searching for a partner in life, distance between you and a potential mate means nothing. During 20 years of dating, your quest takes you to Toronto, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Chatham, the Kingston area, and points closer to home such as St. Marys, Mitchell and your hometown Stratford. That’s a lot of searching and after a couple of decades, a fella maybe can’t be blamed for deciding to give in to the inevitable and make peace with staying single. There are much worse things than living alone, such as living with someone you shouldn’t be with at all.
So, you give up. Maybe not consciously but you’re out of steam and ready to relax. If being a confirmed bachelor is what the Universe has in mind for you, then you are fine with that.
“Not so fast,” says the Universe. “Hold my beer!” (You’re probably surprised to learn the Universe drinks beer. I was too.)
And at about 6 p.m. on July 21, 1988, exactly 30 years ago today, there she was. In a parking lot 500 feet behind my house. The Universe might have positioned her a little closer, but its aim was off a bit that day I guess. I was coming out of my favourite coffee shop when I met a friend of mine heading to Swiss Chalet with a friend of hers. We were introduced and shook hands and I was invited to join the two women for supper. I did that. When we got seated inside the restaurant, my friend went to the washroom leaving her friend and I alone for a few minutes.
The Universe smacked me then and there.
“Bam! Right in the kisser!”
Tonight at 6 p.m., my wife Barb and I took a selfie on the spot in the coffee shop parking lot where we met. Then we went for supper at the same Swiss Chalet where we ate 30 years ago today. The restaurant was full but we smiled to see that our booth was open. We asked for it and were seated there. We took that as a good sign.
Thirty years together, 29 years of marriage, two kids, two hamsters, nine gerbils, a dog, two cats, a mouse and a rat, backyard hockey rinks and piano lessons, not to mention a lot of laughs and buckets of tears, and we somehow are still standing.
Somebody ought to bottle that Universe stuff. They could make a fortune.
©2018 Jim Hagarty
