How My Bride became “My Bride” and a Great Cup of Coffee

I have mentioned that I grew up in a colorful section of Detroit in my youth, surrounded by Damon Runyon and “Goodfellas” type characters.  As is the wont of the era of the men that I had grown up with the term “the old lady” was used in a form of endearment when speaking of one’s wife.  I used that term one day in front of one of my “uncles.”  In my nationality I have more “uncles, aunts and cousins” then I would ever have in the real world.  It is more a statement of respect and honor, especially when referring to an elder.  Well my “uncle” took umbrage at the term I used and stressed that I should never use that term again.  He said that it is a “Highway” vulgarity and it showed disrespect for one’s spouse and that I was informed that I was wrong to think it made me sound cool.  I took that lesson to heart.  Years later I found myself divorced.

I was devastated and was under the assumption that if my ex-wife divorced me, how was I ever to find a soul mate.  This was a black cloud that hung over my head like the one character from “Lil Abner.”  I had been single for about three months and very melancholy, when I was cajoled to attend a “Bond, James Bond” singles dance at one of the clubs in Dearborn.  Up until the few minutes as I drove my car into the parking lot of the club, I was still unsure if I was doing the proper thing.

I walked into the room, bought a mixed drink and went to look for a suitable table to orient myself to this new environment.  I met two other men that look equally ill at ease, when just at that moment the disc-jockey announced that it was a “Sadie Hawkins” moment and the ladies should go and find a dance partner.  All of a sudden this attractive blonde in a gold lame blouse approaches to table that I was at and said “would you like to dance?”  The other two men, both said yes immediately, but she held out for my answer and I responded in the positive, but said that I must find someplace to put my hat.  She later told me she was sure that she had picked an “old fuddy-duddy.”    We went onto the dance floor, then ended up getting another drink and started to talk, before I knew it the evening had come to a close and I wanted to prolong the evening.

I started to panic, as this was the first real encounter with a woman that I had since my divorce was finalized.  I realized that I was so removed from the night life that I couldn’t think of a place that was nice to go have a cup of coffee, after she responded that a cup of coffee did sound like a good idea.  My brain was a whirling-dervish at the moment trying to come up with a nice place, and then it dawned on me that across the street was the Ritz-Carlton.  I surmised that it was a hotel, and all hotels should have a coffee shop (and even though I was a pauper in my current situation I figured that I could afford two coffees, even at the Ritz).  I had chose right, and we enjoyed a couple of delightful cups of coffee and were even presented with a complimentary pastry while we in the lobby of the hotel.   The rest is history as they say, and for years we would return for a cup of coffee in the lobby to relive that night.  We are still together; alas the Ritz is no longer in Dearborn or any where else in Michigan.

About thewineraconteur

A non-technical wine writer, who enjoys the moment with the wine, as much as the wine. Twitter.com/WineRaconteur Instagram/thewineraconteur Facebook/ The Wine Raconteur
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9 Responses to How My Bride became “My Bride” and a Great Cup of Coffee

  1. Beautiful. And sad. And good. Thanks!

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  3. Joyce says:

    Beautiful story. Thanks for sharing

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  6. I love your story! Especially the part where you “took a chance on a new romance.” Congratulations on the many happy years with your bride!

  7. Pingback: Twenty-Five Years | The Wine Raconteur

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