Sweet Hubby and me - Part Two

                                                             COULD IT BE?

August, 2005.  

The three-day playwrighting conference in Denver took place at a large arts center.  There were workshops in several of the smaller meeting rooms, but I opted to spend the entire time in the auditorium.  Each day, staged readings of new plays were presented, one after the other, with talkbacks following each reading.  A panel of what were called luminaries (meaning people more well known than I) gave their impressions and suggestions first, and then the members of the audience were invited to give theirs.  Me being me, I had something to say about every play.  I'd been writing and teaching for a couple of decades at that point and felt fairly confident in my ability to provide useful critiques.  Also, I'm a showoff, and hadn't yet completely learned how to walk into a room and not immediately try to grab the spotlight.

I ended up enjoying the experience and was so glad I had decided to go, despite the costs.  The colleagues who had urged me to attend were there as well, so I had a few people to hang with on breaks.  I was surprised and impressed by the level of talent in Denver, which was proved by the parade of actors performing the readings.  And what a delight to spend a solid three days completely immersed in the world of dramatic storytelling, being with other folks who were on a similar path to mine.

At the end of the conference, as I was getting ready to leave the auditorium, a man came up to me to mention that he had appreciated my comments.  I remembered him from a performance he had given in one of the plays and was able to give a compliment in return.  I had a boyfriend in Seattle at the time, which meant this was one of the rare instances when I was not cruising/trolling/scouting/flirting, so when someone tapped this nice man on the shoulder and he turned away, I left to catch my plane.

A few days later, this nice man sent an email, having tracked me down through the Internet (thank you, Google!!!!).  He reminded me that we had met at the conference.  He mentioned that he came to Seattle from time to time for work and that he might reach out to me to ask for theater recommendations next time.  We casually exchanged a few emails after that, and I got the inkling he might be interested in me, but I was still with that other man, and even though I knew other man was not my life's partner, I'm very loyal when I'm with someone, so I gave little thought to Mr. Denver.

Sept. 14, 2005

Mr. Denver mentioned he was coming to Seattle and asked, as he'd said he might, for theater recommendations.  I found out he would be here on his birthday and offered to take him to dinner (which he ended up insisting he pay for).  We had a lovely, easy conversation over oysters and salmon, and I kept finding myself thinking "I should be with someone like him."  (At this point in the story, Sweet Hubby always pipes up "Turns out I'm exactly like me.")  I really didn't want a long-distance relationship, but still, I liked him well enough, especially that he was able to show emotion (my current beau was a bit wooden in that regard), and that he had a love of theater (beau was an accountant and horserace gambler).  It was at that dinner that I told Mr. Denver I had a boyfriend, and I can still remember the look on his face; he kept smiling, but said "Damn" in a way that let me know he'd had his hopes up.

As we were parting ways after dinner, he asked for a kiss, but I reminded him that, if I were with him, he wouldn't want me kissing another man, right?  He was a good sport about it.  It had been a nice evening and I figured nothing more than that.  Still, I was aware even at the time that in a way, I was showing him that I am loyal, that I can be trusted.  You know, just in what seemed the extremely unlikely event that we ended up dating.

Nov. 7, 2005

Seattle beau broke up with me, so I contacted Mr. Denver, not with particularly high hopes nor expectations, just to sort of say "Well, what do you think?"  We began emailing and then talking on the phone daily.  

Nov. 21, 2005

Two weeks later, I wrote Mr. Denver a letter stating that I knew he and I were going to be together forever. (I very wisely didn't send it.) We had never kissed, never even been on a proper date.  With all my mistaken choices and disappointments and heartbreaks in the past, I truly don't know how I could have been so calm and so certain, but I was.  When he and I talked, I kept waiting for that feeling of "uh oh" or "I don't know if I like that", but never felt anything but "yes".  One night after we hung up, I did freak out a little, thinking "This can't possibly be as good as it seems to be."  So I called him up and told him I was scared, and he talked me through it so kindly, saying "We couldn't have gotten this far if it weren't real."  I think the moment I fell in love with him was when he said, "I promise I will always show you the parts of me I want to hide."

I had found, was being given, what I had been searching for my entire life.  The only way I can take even the slightest credit for that is that I never gave up admitting to myself that I wanted to be loved and married.  I never closed my heart, never became resigned or bitter, never turned to dissing all men for the heartbreak dished out by a few.  I was 54, still holding the door open, and oh my god the right man finally walked in.