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"Twelve years ago my biggest concerns were turning 30, whether or not I could smuggle a kitten into my fifties walk-up apartment, and what show I would move onto next. There was never any concern living paycheck to paycheck. Even if I should have had some anxiety, who had the time, what with my busy schedule running from hair salon to lunch dates, dancing occasionally at night or spending half a paycheck on a couch I knew I would live with forever? (One thing is true today - I still own that damn green couch!) I wasn&amp;#039;t exactly a shallow 20-something. I went to church. I volunteered my time at the local dog shelter. I paid my taxes. But fear and doubt were simply not in my vocabulary. I would write for a living. I would meet a husband. And I&amp;#039;d have a stylish wardrobe while doing so! One night my sister called me. &amp;quot;Do you want to go out with a friend of mine from work&amp;#039;s husband?&amp;quot; she asked. &amp;quot;Is he gay?&amp;quot; was my first response. The facts are, I was still mending a broken heart incurred by a man who left me for someone as good looking as my current spouse. Going through a canceled show was one thing, but I couldn&amp;#039;t handle another Bruce scenario. &amp;quot;Not gay, but possibly geeky... &amp;quot; she answered back. &amp;quot;All I know is that he works in computers, he&amp;#039;s tall, and my friends are sick of him being the third wheel on their dates out.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Why not?&amp;quot; was all I could muster. I could have cared less if it worked or it didn&amp;#039;t. I wasn&amp;#039;t a huge player, but I had my share of men asking me out. One more couldn&amp;#039;t hurt, and if it went sour, it would be a fun cocktail story to tell. (Not that we went out for cocktails much, but I fancied myself quite hip in those days.) What finally transpired was not a call from Rex, but instead one from my sister&amp;#039;s friend from work. (Hint #1: Rex is not a talker.) &amp;quot;Hi, I&amp;#039;m Leya,&amp;quot; she said. &amp;quot;Do you want to meet myself, my husband, and my husband&amp;#039;s business partner for dinner on Thursday?&amp;quot; she asked. Oooh... &amp;quot;business partner&amp;quot;... sounded fancy. I pictured an executive with a leather briefcase working on the 20th floor of an L.A. highrise. How was I to guess I&amp;#039;d land a sweet Italian in a pair of Kirkland dockers who ran cable for small business owners under the name &amp;#039;The Computer Guys&amp;#039;? Life is fun for sure. But back to my first meeting: Before I knew it, I found myself walking into a Middle Eastern restaurant located between a Greek owned Shoe Store and an icecream parlor. I ended up talking most of the night to Leya&amp;#039;s husband, while my future hubby looked at me with what was either a puzzled uncertainty or amused admiration. Twelve years later, I&amp;#039;m still trying to decipher that look. How did you meet your spouse or current boyfriend? Was it a blind date? The internet? Did you love him? Hate him? Let&amp;#039;s hear all about it! * Photo of Rex and I back when I had good hair and he was sporting a unibrow. At least 1 out of 2 losses worked out! "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a3012/my-piece-of-meet-aka-how-i-my/>