I came very very close to achieving someone's romantic fantasy, once.
12 years ago, sometime around late April-ish, I met my future husband amid the swirling crowds of commuters, as the big board showing train numbers and times was clacking overhead, and vendors were on the periphery selling enormous bouquets of flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors. Children were crying, suitcases were bumping up the escalators and along the polished floor, the rumble of the T was underfoot, trains were chugging in and backing out of the tracks just outside the twirling revolving door. There was a hum, chaos, energy so deafening and blinding at once, that it was simply impossible to take it all in. But it didn't faze me one bit - I only had eyes for him.
And it was, obviously, laundry day.
The neck of his neon yellow shirt was stretched out, exposing hs shoulder. He was wearing atrocious knit shorts that were unspeakably unflattering. The sole of his sneaker had come loose, and flapped down as he walked towards me. His hair was long, and obviously had not been so much as trimmed in a very long time. His face was partially hidden by a black beard and a ginormous unibrow.
My destiny awaited.
And twelve years later, with a complete wardrobe overhaul, regular visits to a salon, along with a good leave-in conditioner and some new sneakers, he is dreamy. Women swoon. He has a fanclub at his doctor's office. The cashier at Home Depot told me he looked just like a celebrity - but she couldn't quite figure out which one.
Do you know his secret ? It's the smile. He has an enormous smile - it lit up South Station that day. It lights up my life and lifts my spirit every time I see it.
Happy Anniversary of the day my life changed forever. You arrived just in the nick of time, darling.
1 hour ago