Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The First Kiss

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.