From the book:
Tom and I met several jobs into our simultaneous, but unknown to each other, corporately induced stupor. (There’s a mouthful – say it five times fast). Ironically, we met at company team dragon boat races, meant to bolster spirit and teamwork. Ha! So much for that theory. Anyway, we were put together in a boat because we both spoke French – at least, that’s what people thought, though Tom is from Quebec and my background is France French. That distinction makes Mars vs. Venus seem like two peas in a pod, but I digress.
Anyway, we did eventually have a date, because I asked him. Actually, what I really did was ask him to help me coach my company’s dragon boat team. It was my sly and sneaky way of getting to know him. Boy, I was a real spitfire, wasn’t I? He wasn’t getting the hint though, so I finally had to do the asking out. After days of rehearsing what I would say, I finally pulled my nerve together to dial the phone and I got his voicemail. Of course. So I asked his answering machine out for dinner. Here, in so many words, was the voicemail I got back, three days later:
“Hi. Sorry. I was away camping for a few days. Yeah, sure, we can go for dinner. I guess.”
Rousing enthusiasm. Scared the crap out of me. By the time date night arrived, I was literally shaking with humiliation, thinking that he was just going out with me to be nice. I was just a pillar of self esteem at that time in my life. Can’t you tell?
The dinner actually went spectacularly well and I knew almost immediately that I would marry Tom. Don’t ask me how or why I knew. I just knew. If you ask him, he’ll tell you that it took a little bit longer for him to imagine that scenario, but imagine it he did since we decided, in September 1999, to tie the knot. (I know, I am skipping a lot, but our kissing and then having sex and dating and staying up until 4 a.m. talking is interesting but not really germane to tale I am telling, so you’ll just have to imagine those bits. On second thought…)