Three years ago today, Liz
and I shared a moment that would direct our collective paths. It was our first
kiss. We enjoy recounting the way we met, how our relationship developed, and
where it has led us. The opportunity to tell our story arose when I saw a call
for entries in the Indy Week, a publication that is distributed throughout
Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill.
The call for entries noted
that the Indy Week was taking submissions for love stories to print as
Valentine’s Day approached. “Newly in love? Together forever? Gay? Straight? We
want to hear your story!” the headline read. I compiled an abridged description
of how we met in 250 or less. The following ran in the February 13th
issue, the day before Valentine’s Day.
Most people can only
recall their first kiss. Luckily, my first kiss with The One was photographed –
in a photo booth, with her wearing my suit jacket, a bottle of Patron in her
hand and my tie in my friend’s mouth. Striking.
36 hours prior to that
kiss, Elizabeth Fabry had agreed to take a new job and move from Oklahoma City
to Durham, North Carolina, 1,200 miles away.
After the kiss we came to
discover there were numerous chances for us to find each other. We graduated the same year, from the same
university and started working in the same industry. We had mutual friends that
were just waiting for the right time to introduce us. I even have pictures of
me with her dancing in the background taken a year before we met.
Because of that kiss, I
left the majority of my belongings in OKC and trekked cross-country, on the
highway that was a block from that photo booth and lead me directly to Durham.
Since the move, we have
fallen more in love with one another and with The Triangle, and we are having
the discussions about our future together.
With that in mind, I need
to first ask her father’s permission to marry her.
So, Mr. Fabry, may I have
your permission to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage? No matter how far
away your little girl may be she will always be taken care of in a way that
will make you proud.
I mailed two copies of the
Indy Week, accompanied by a letter, to Mr. Fabry in Northeastern Oklahoma. Gratefully,
I received his permission. Albeit not yet a proposal, it was the first step in
solidifying our collective future.
The Indy Week shares the
story and the picture on their site here. A BIG thanks to them for lending this transplanted Okie a
hand.
