Some romances that last for decades begin in the strangest ways.
That happened to me.
I’ve always been a sales guy of some sort. Nearly 30 years ago, I was practicing my trade in Madison, Wisconsin. The fancy spot to eat lunch was the Madison Club, right off the square. Legislators, business leaders and university professors would head there to eat and conduct the business of the day.
I’d bring in my prospects and focus on closing a sale before leaving the table.
The waitress would take our order and perfectly serve each of my guests. However, I would never receive what I ordered. Instead, I’d get a dish full of healthy food – certainly not my choice of the day.
I’d say nothing. I was closing a deal. My guests never noticed. They were too busy eating a prime rib sandwich with fries, while I stared down at bean sprouts.
This went on for months. Then one day, a warm piece of chocolate cake topped with French vanilla ice cream was placed before me.
I looked up at the waitress. She smiled.
We married six months later.