Monday is the 11 year anniversary of the day I met Michael. We had spoken on the phone before that day, though. He called me as soon as he received my resume.
I found the job in the Sunday NY Times, and sent in my resume and cover letter immediately. "Dear Mr. Wiley," I wrote. He liked the pretension inherent in my resume. The fact that I mentioned the topic of my senior thesis. The fact that I spoke French. If he hadn't been so enamored of the French language, actually, we might have met even earlier than November 6, 1995. The night I went for my interview, he was at a class at the Alliance Francaise, learning beginning French. Instead of meeting Michael, I met with the creepy VP. I sat in a swiveling chair that had been raised to its highest level, which created two major problems: 1. I was looking down at this funny-looking man. 2. My feet didn't touch the ground, so I couldn't control the swivel. The interview went well, regardless. We talked about my skills and talents. We talked about astrology. He told me he'd chat with Mr. Wiley and get back to me.
The next day, creepo VP gave me a call. "Why don't you just come in to work next Monday. Show up at 9:30. Don't worry. I'm sure Michael will love you."
Two weeks after I started work at the small company, Michael and I started dating. Less than two months after that, we moved into a studio apartment together.
We have lived in New York, Ann Arbor, Toledo and now Chicago.
We have had two kids, two dogs, and three houses.
We were separated for three months, but compared to 11 years, that's just a drop in the bucket.
This Love Thursday is dedicated to perseverance, trust, stubborness, and a relationship that endures.
Photo courtesy of Tammy