How I Met My Wife

Pareil tale of bridled passion

How I met my wife
by Jack Winter
Published 25 July 1994 - The New Yorker

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very
chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her
standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a
state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and
she moved in a gainly way.

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about
it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I
could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off
my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving
loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and
heard-of behavior would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause
was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone
as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung
hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you
could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled

So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent
reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make
heads and tails of.

I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it
nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen.
Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt
capacitated - as if this were something I was great shakes at - and
forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of
times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and
made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to
prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for
remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her
of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory
character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a
perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation become more and
more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was
defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to
come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party
together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love,
and she has requited it.
GirlThinking GirlThinking
26-30, F
Sep 14, 2012