This is an adaptation of an essay of sorts that I wrote to memorialize my wedding, which had occurred only a year prior. I’ve saved it over the years in an attempt to crystalize the version of myself who had just started out being a husband and father.

I met my wife Lisa at a get-together with friends. On that day we rarely talked; there is photographic evidence that we barely even looked at each other. I was feeling a bit awkward in the group, because I only knew a portion of the people in the room, while everyone else seemed to know everyone. My insecurity prevented me from doing much else but staying in my seat in the corner. This pattern continued for another gathering or so.

However, one Saturday afternoon, after spending most of the day watching several consecutive episodes of The Office, I decided to leave the house and browse a movie/music/book store in the neighborhood. I was surprised to find out that Lisa was a writer, had published a book, and was signing that book in the book store. I bought a copy and began to chat with her a bit. She was mildly appalled to discover my binge TV viewing on such a lovely summer day and invited me to talk a walk with her and her friend in a local park. I agreed, and had a lovely time talking with her.

After the walk, Lisa and I talked rather infrequently, and a few months pass without incident. I had placed her book on my shelf and figured I would likely never read it, as it wasn’t really my genre of choice. We eventually met again at her house-warming party, and I greatly enjoyed the visit.

The problem was that at that point I was in a doomed attempt at dating a coworker. It proved to be gutting but ultimately greatly informative for me. In the ashes of this disaster, I felt a strong urge to finally read Lisa’s book. I scoffed at the thought, but picked it up anyway and started reading.

I loved the book. It was like Lisa was reading it to me. It transcended a normal book reading, and instead offered up the heart of a woman who was seeking a lifelong companion and was baring herself to the world in that journey. I fell in love with Lisa through her writing. She showed herself to be such a moral and strong woman in those words, and I knew I had to meet her — truly meet her — as soon as possible.

Now came the issue of figuring out how to tell her all this. In my attempt to appear casual — rather than the shaking mass of jelly and nerves that I was in reality — I sent her a text message asking her permission to meet at Starbucks to discuss her book. I wasn’t lying; I really did want to discuss her book, but I also wanted to talk to her. To my delight, she agreed, and we talked for an hour or so before the Starbucks closed for the night. We then continued talking in the parking lot until the weather got too cold to stand around outside. We agreed to meet again to share books and movies, though that was mostly pretense on my part to talk with her again.

We met on a Saturday at 1:00 p.m. and quickly exchanged books and movies. The exchange happened a bit too quickly, actually, as I realized that only about ten minutes had passed and I was set to leave. I quickly asked another question about her book — again, one to which I was genuinely interested in getting an answer — and she offered me a seat to talk. We ended up talking for nine hours that day, and shared the next day together with her friends, even having a meal of chili in the evening.

It just so happened to be my mother’s birthday, so I tried to be a good son and call my mother. I wasn’t that great at remembering, and my family was busy on a trip away from home, so I wasn’t able to reach her until the meal had already started. My phone call delayed me to the point that Lisa, who was waiting for me, ended up at a separate table that had been swiftly set up to accommodate the latecomers. I was happy to see that Lisa was there waiting for me, and we spent the evening sitting almost completely alone at the table, free to talk to each other with little interruption.

That night, as I walked her to her car, Lisa said that she really enjoyed the weekend. I agreed, and told her that the reason I had pursued her so was that I was interested in starting a relationship with her. She made my heart leap for joy when she said “yes,” that she too was interested in dating me. I realize what I said may sound awkward in text, but I felt that being straightforward was more respectful of her feelings than being vague. She was worth too much to me to risk losing by not simply stating my feelings to her.

Since then I’ve barely touched the ground. She’s a wonderful woman. We married in July 2013. We rarely ever dated; instead, it felt to the two of us as if we were made for each other. After talking about our pasts, it’s shocking that we both ended up in the same place and at the right time. I am very thankful for our histories, where we each matured into the spouse that we were to be in the future. If Lisa and I met five years prior, we might not have been the right fit for each other. All my misery of waiting as a single person, seeking my lifelong companion, was suddenly realized as being a worthwhile effort once I met Lisa. She was worth the wait.

Since this essay was written, our family has grown to include three children (not pictured for their privacy). I had hoped for years for a life like this but wasn’t sure that it would ever be possible. I’m very happy to have been wrong.