My husband and I recently went to a dinner hosted by his company. During dessert time, the company owner went around the table and asked each couple how they met. He came right out and told us, if his employees know each other better they become more invested and caring so working together improves. The owner is a very smart man who my husband admires and respects highly. The company is a pleasure to work for.
Our story is fun to tell. Our matchmaker is a mutual friend who heard both of our complaints about finding someone suitable to date. My husband said he wanted someone who could go out for happy hour and liked to have a good time. I was saying I couldn’t find a guy who could keep his word. One day at work, this friend waved her hand in the air and exclaimed, “I’ve got the guy for you.” I just looked at her, skeptical.
She went on, “He’s short.” I replied, “So am I.’
She said, “He’s bald.” I said I didn’t care.
She waved her hands a few times, covered her mouth a second and finally said, “He’s portly.” I laughed, and said, “Do I look like Twiggy? If he’s heavier than I am, that’s a plus.”
She continued, “He loves to dance and has a Harley.” I asked, “Where the hell is he?”
The following week she got a few friends together for happy hour and included the two of us. It was the last Wednesday in April and meeting in a group took all the stress away. We hit it off right away and there has only been a handful of days in the last sixteen years that we haven’t talked or been together. We used to make sure we saw our matchmaker friend every April, but somehow have let that tradition slip away. I think I should give her a call over the Labor Day weekend and get together for happy hour. Foot-note; we have given up the Harley and replaced it with a red mini-cooper convertible, and we still like to dance.