I had all of the starts of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day on May 18th (if you picked up on that literary reference, your childhood was awesome). Somehow I had managed to break my car key IN HALF, thus locking all of my tools for work in my car. Now, when you drive a sweet ride that has lovingly been named The Death Trap, shenanigans like this are around every corner. One might even think that I would anticipate something like this happening at any moment but until May 18th I am confident that no one else has ever broken their car key in half doing absolutely NOTHING. All day long I worked on resolving the crisis between clients and, as always, with the help of my wonderful tribe of friends and family (Ivette Carter spent the majority of her day on the phone with the most patient locksmith in the Inland Empire) all was well. In the midst of the chaos, about half way through 11 hours of scheduled hair bliss, I received a voice mail from a friend I hadn’t heard from in about a year and a half asking if I was available to hang out that day. Quinton was going to be in town after a long time away and the idea of hanging out after work was the silver lining to an otherwise crazy day.
My last client was a longer process than we had scheduled and instead of getting out of work at 7:30, it was creeping closer to 9:30. All the while, I was reluctantly texting Q, letting him know that I would be late and would understand if he needed to go home. He stayed. As I walked down the stairs of the salon I found him and a couple of friends waiting patiently nearby. I approached and was greeted with a big, much-needed hug, the kind of hug that makes you forget that you broke your car key and worked 13 straight hours… And then it happened. The first thing out of my mouth was a graceful Sampsonism.
Me: Holy crap! The last time I saw you I was getting engaged!
Quinton: Well, that’s one way to break the ice!
One of these days I am going to be able to filter the thoughts that come out of my mouth. May 18th was not one of those days.
Years ago, I started my professional career as a stylist in a posh salon in town. I was dating my ex fiance and working lots and lots of hours. Quinton was dating my friend and the receptionist a the salon. Because of this we all spent time together scattered through the years. He played the piano in a lounge act for a party I threw, in a jazz band performance for a fundraiser at the salon, in various bands and at a church I visited. The four of us spent the day at the beach, they came to my house for my annual Thanksgiving party, we were great friends. Eventually, their relationship ended and Q moved away. It was a sad situation for all parties but I knew then that moving away was his opportunity to heal and sort through his emotions.
Imagine my surprise when, on my birthday in 2011, I was guided around the corner at my parent’s house and I saw him sitting at the piano, playing away! I wish I had a copy of the video from that night because the scream that escaped my mouth was nothing less than epic. I ran and hugged him, oblivious to what was happening that night. He laughed a bit and directed me back to the middle of the room where, a short while later I was proposed to (honestly, that part of the story still makes me want to vomit). While I hugged everyone that was there, my mom wept to my aunt in the kitchen, half praying, half trying to regulate her emotions. In her sadness, she asked my aunt “Why can’t she be with the Piano Man?”…
So here we were, almost two years later. We had been friends, but never anything more. As we headed downtown I had a strange nervous feeling. The nervous laugh, the nervous talking (incessant, nonsense chatter), the nervous shaky hands were all present. It was strange because before I went downstairs I was just going to spend time with an old friend. Face to face seemed to be a different story. My heart nearly beat out of my chest. Somehow, after 13 hours of work and crisis adversion, I was energized and so very excited about catching up with Q after so much time. We talked until about midnight, he walked me to my car, and we parted ways. I don’t ever claim to understand the ways of the heart but it was very clear to both of us that night that something crazy was going on. Two dates and ten days later, we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend.
There are so very many things to say, I don’t have the vocabulary or the time to share it all. I believe the best part of this whole story is that I feel so very blessed to have a wonderful, funny, caring, strong, and, most importantly, Christian man in my life. I love that he loved God before he loved me, I love his heart. Today I am thankful for my Mama’s prayers that I would end up with the Piano Man. Our story is an example that, given enough time, all things can be worked for good.
Here is a wonderful blog that made me weepy this week (along with countless love songs, toothpaste commercials, etc… I have a lot of emotions…). Enjoy! http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/the-soulmate-you-deserve/