People, mostly women who write to me, ask me, “How did you know that Paul was the one for you? ” And more precisely, “How did you know that you could do it? That you could get married and blend your families?”  Good question. When I met Paul I was 43.  No spring chicken, (although I’d like to think that I still looked fabulous), and I had been around the block more than a few times. Let’s just say I had taken quite a few  laps. I knew what I wanted and figured when I found it I would know. And I did. There were a lot of little events that led up to the big one that told me, no, shouted to me, “Marry this man!”.  So let me recount the details.

The first was on our second date. Paul took me to a romantic wine bar and  when we sat down at the table I reached out to hold his hands. He told me later it was at that moment that he fell in love with me. I felt comfortable with him. I didn’t worry about scaring him off. When he complained of “mouse finger” I rubbed his hand and he was sold. We had to cut our date short when his oldest son Sam called him on his cell to tell him that his daughter Cheryl had puked,  so we got up to leave. He took me home and I gave him some ginger ale and sent him on his way, but not before he kissed me. Another sign. Sigh.

A few weeks later, Paul came over to my house just as I was getting home from a night class I was taking.  I was exhausted. The kitchen was a mess and the sink was filled with dirty dishes. Paul took one look around, poured me a glass of wine, told me to relax on the couch while he cleaned up. Yet another sign. Exhale. I knew then that I really wanted to marry him, but could we do it?  

When Paul and I had been dating for five months, we decided to take all the kids camping. Yes, that’s right, camping. Although  I had many fond camping memories from my childhood, I do recall a particular incident when my mother got so angry with my father that she locked herself in the car and wouldn’t come out. So I was prepared for the worst. Our destination was a four hour drive up the coast on a winding road. Worried that the kids would get carsick, Paul drove at night so they would sleep. When we arrived at our destination it was 1am. The campground was deserted. It was windy, bitter cold and pitch black. Still groggy from sleep myself, I attempted to rally so I could help Paul set up the tent trailer. I asked him, “What do you want me to do?” He replied, “Nothing. Just stay here and I will take care of everything.” And with that, he put on a helmut with a head lamp on it, the kind coal miners wear, and set up everything himself. He had a head lamp! What a guy! When he was finished, he woke up the kids and carried the little ones to bed. That is when I said to myself with complete certainty and conviction, “I have to marry this man.”