I was at a crossroads. David had moved out of our shared apartment, and on into a new life. I needed to move on. Lou Ciullo counselled me. He said, why pay rent. Buy. Buy. Buy. So I put my energies into finding a new place to live.
It didn't take long for me to fall in love with a condo in North Brunswick. As with so many things in my life, my timing was impeccable. I bought it for a great price. I closed on it in Mark Lybeck's office; drank my first single malt that afternoon. Moved in shortly before Thanksgiving, 1992.
Carrie counselled me. She said, place a personal ad. And so I did. My ad read: "Single, Jewish Female. Fun and Cute. Seeks single Jewish Male who's never owned a leisure suit".
1993. Before online dating. Before cell phones.
It worked like this. My ad was in the Star Ledger, along with an 800 number for my suitors to call. When they called, they got my voice saying this: (it's a line from a movie; I don't know which. I got it from Dawn) "At the sound of the tone, tell me everything". I had a number to call to listen to my messages.
I got many responses. I made a few mistakes. There was a man who I agreed to meet for dinner. He carried a pink sweater, in case he was cold in the restaurant. He left me cold in my heart. I picked up the dinner tab, as I didn't want to be beholden to him. I learned from that mistake.
There was a guy who lived close by to me. In my new digs. We had some fun phone chats, I liked him, agreed to meet him. We went out a few times. While we were dating, Mike left me a message. I called him back. Said, thank you for calling but I just met someone, and I want to give this a chance. He said, I hope that it works for you, but please keep my number. If it doesn't. But good luck.
The local boy proved to be a disaster; something about pornography and white cotton panties. Perfectly acceptable perhaps at some point, but not before the third date. So I said good bye to him,and called Mike. Mike was happy to hear from me, but he was just getting ready to leave the country. He said he would call me when he returned.
I went back to my voice mail. I talked to a Jewish, divorced motorcyle guy. Not my type; I was into suits at the time, but hey, I figured. I'll try it. By this time, I'd worked out a routine. No more dinners for me; I said, meet me at the mall. In front of Nordstroms, lower level. I got to the mall, entered Nordstroms through the upper level, and took the escalator down.
Here is another of those confessions that I'm not particularly proud of: As I was riding down the escalator, I could see him, and I knew, just knew that I couldn't go through with it. I walked right by him, into Nordstroms, and out the main door. Remember...before cell phones. When I got home I called him and LIED. I don't often lie, but I did to him. I told him that I'd gotten hung up at work and wasn't able to do the meet. He asked me out for a different night,and I compounded my lies. I ran into him several weeks later when Dawn and I did our annual March of Dimes Walkathon. He was one of the Blue Angels working the traffic. I knew he didn't know me, but Dawn teased me relentlessly; she was going to call him over and introduce me.
I swore off dating.
But then, Mike came back from his vacation, and true to his word, he called me. I probably shared my dating nightmares with him; I remember he had some of his own. We took it very slowly. We talked. And we talked. He'd call me from work....we'd be on the phone for hours....he'd put me on hold, come back to me, hold, back, hold back. We learned so much of each other during our chats. He was from Union, I was from Irvington. I'd gone to school with one of his best friends, our music collections were virtually identical. His mother had known, and played mah jongg with, my mother.
We set a date. June 2, 1993. I was working in the mortgage business. Sharing an office with Donna Herzog. I was meeting Mike at the mall. In front of Nordstroms. I was wearing a denim mini skirt. T shirt. Sandals. I didn't freshen my makeup. I nearly cancelled the date. Donna counselled me. She said, the man gave up Knicks playoff tickets to take you out. You can't cancel. I didn't.
Later, Mike said to me, I have a confession. I asked what. He said, I used to own a leisure suit. I married him anyway.
Happy Valentine's Day, Mickey.
David...this is how I met your dad.
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