The second time I saw him he came stomping into my apartment dressed like Che Guevarra and brandishing a water gun in the shape of an army rifle. (A guy could do that in those days.) Little did I know the beret was not really a costume. The beret was pure him. The gun was not and neither was any of the rest of the outfit. He and his roommate had been at a costume party before dropping by the party at our apartment. He was invited to our party only because we knew and invited both his roommates and we did not want to be rude.

Although the first time we met has become mythic, I really don�t remember it very well. I had been at law school only a few weeks and was just meeting classmates and neighbors. One of those classmates and neighbors had arrived at law school obviously pregnant. There was a baby shower and men were invited as well as women. He had gone to college with her so, even though he was a class ahead, there he was. We began to tell stories of siblings or something and he began to tell of his older sister. (Little did I know how mild that story would turn out to be compared to the real older sister but perhaps that was better then.) Apparently, he was whining although he denies it. �Oh, dear,� I said. �Is this going to be another one of those poor younger children stories?� (Can you tell I�m an oldest?) He now says he was mortified but I don�t remember that. I forgot about him. I left it to him to remember me�or not.

But the second time, he was fascinating. He was bright, witty, and interesting so I overlooked his height. He had a beard. Many women don�t like beards. I�m not one of them. On the right man, I like a beard. Two out of three of the men I�ve been involved with seriously have had beards. But mainly, he was compassionate. My roommates and I had spent all day getting ready and the party went late. I was overtired and having an exacerbation of the multiple sclerosis and I physically fell apart. My roommates, wonderful people that they were, arranged for me to sleep at someone else�s place in the building but I had to get there and I needed some help. He had a sister who has MS and instantly grasped the situation. He gently helped me get there and did it so that I maintained my dignity in front of the other guests.

From then on, I couldn�t resist. I was gone. I was far gone. He liked me and the MS didn�t matter at all. I was hooked.

Fortunately, it turned out that he was hooked too but we had a rocky time while he decided that being hooked was okay. (I�m not sure that my roommates wouldn�t use stronger language than �rocky time.�) We went up and down and round and round for several years. He was never going to get married and never going to have children. He considered love just a habit�probably a bad habit. He could resist and he did, for a while. I never doubted the depth of his love for me. I began to doubt his ability to act on it. After he had graduated and he had come back to visit me, I took action. I cut him loose. I told him love was not enough and I ended it. We were supposed to go out with others and I told him that night was our last date. By the end of the evening, he had decided what had to be done. We stayed together. We started planning a future.

But marriage? For me, the child of a close and happy marriage, marriage with a man I loved was a natural extension. It was something to welcome, not something to fear. For him, the child of a bad marriage followed by a rough divorce, it was terrifying. It was hard to believe in as anything other than a torture device. So he backed into it. We got engaged on a misunderstanding. He supposedly told me that he knew what my parents wanted for their anniversary: our engagement. I heard him say, �Let�s give your parents what they want for their anniversary: our engagement.� In joy, I told the entire world. (Okay, so I might have missed three people in Wyoming. It wasn�t for lack of effort.) Because he really was ready, he went along with it.

Years later, he remedied the absence of a proposal. Sometime after Kat was born, he got down on one knee and proposed. I giggled and accepted. He didn�t hold the giggle against me and that�s part of why I love him.

I�m so glad I couldn�t resist. I�m even gladder that I convinced him that he couldn�t either.

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