With a 3-week-old son and 2-year-old daughter, Valentine’s Day will look a little different in my life this year.
Neither my wife or I want chocolates, cards, or gifts – just sleep.
The most romantic thing I can do is get up for the 4 AM feeding (and I probably will) while the most romantic thing she can do (and probably will) is get up for the 7 AM one since I have so much trouble falling back asleep once it’s light out.
We’ve always been good at looking out for each other that way.
In lieu of a traditional column this week I’m directing readers to either watch or read a story I shared last spring about one of the first vacations my wife and I ever took as a dating couple.
She viewed the trip as a fun getaway and opportunity for us to grow closer while I viewed it as a high-stakes gambit where I had to stay on guard the whole time to keep tricking her into liking me.
We both learned a lot about each other that weekend. In retrospect, it’s hard to believe our future lives together were ever anything but certain; luckily, it seems to still be working out.
Please enjoy the video below from Tell Me Another Story’s first-ever online show.
The event raised money and support for Hands on Hartford, a nonprofit providing food, medical and housing assistance to at-need families during the covid crisis. The program was broadcast live on Facebook, YouTube, and Zoom to several hundred viewers around the world on May 01, 2020.
For those who prefer reading, a text version of the story follows below the video.
Shelter from the Storm
I’m driving through the Pennsylvania mountains late at night in the spring of 2009. It’s raining so hard I can barely see in front of me.
The windshield wipers are at maximum speed and they’re old blades so each pass sounds like someone’s choking a sea-lion.
My entire body is tense as giant logging trucks barrel past.
I’m frustrated, but trying to look cool because sitting next to me is Jenny, my girlfriend of nine months. She’s excited because this is one of the first vacations we’ve taken as a couple.
Which is why I’m nervous. This is a big step.
Traveling with someone shows you who they really are and I need to keep tricking her into liking me so instead of saying, “shut up, I can’t see the road!” I say, “your boss said what!? That’s crazy!”
Keep it positive.
I want this vacation to be special, which is tough because we don’t have any money.
I’m a 28-year-old law school student and she’s a 23-year-old, well, 23-year-old.
23-year-olds don’t have money. They have enthusiasm, which is worse.
So we’re heading to Washington, DC where everything is free. Museums, monuments, government buildings, the zoo. All free.
And we’re staying on an air mattress in her cousin’s guest bedroom in Frederick, Maryland which we’re told is right outside Washington, DC, but it is not.
We discover this after finally making it out of the mountains and getting there in the middle of the night.
The next morning we’re packing in a hurry and I want to pack light.
Jenny wants to bring water and snacks, I say no, we won’t get them through security at the museums.
She wants sunblock, I say wear a hat.
She wants an umbrella. The forecast says the chance of rain is 50 percent, don’t be a pessimist. Whatever, I’m not going to argue.
We finally leave and it’s a beautiful day. We make memories at the Capitol, museums and monuments.
Jenny even takes a picture of me giving a finger gesture to the IRS Headquarters. It’s going great.
Until Jenny hits the elevator button at the Federal Triangle subway station and the button replies, “911, what’s your emergency.”
Here’s the thing. I was in Washington on September 11th doing an internship in the United States Senate. I know how intensely they respond to distress calls, so when I hear 911, I sprint.
That’s what you do when you set off an alarm in a place surrounded by terrorist targets, but Jenny stayed put.
As I slink back she’s apologizing to the elevator button, then pushes the right button, which is much larger and very clearly marked, and gets in the elevator with a cheerful, “Sorry!” to the listening operator.
“Why did you run?” she asks as the elevator descends.
“Why didn’t you!? You hit a panic button in the middle of FEDERAL TRIANGLE. There’s probably twenty FBI Agents swarming right now.”
She laughs, “But you came back for me!”
And I should’ve said “YES!” instead I admit, “We were on camera. Probably fifty cameras. As soon as these doors open we’re going to jail.”
The doors open and nobody cares.
No cops are waiting, no FBI agents emerge, the military doesn’t lock down the station.
So we continue to the National Zoo.
We love the panda house but when we leave, the sky has turned black.
As soon as we reach the street, the sky opens up raining even harder than the night before.
I see the subway entrance but it’s a hundred yards away and across an eight-lane road at rush hour.
I grab Jenny’s hand and say “we need to move!” when suddenly the rain stops. Jenny’s taken a tote’s umbrella out of her purse and is holding it over me.
Which means she’s now getting soaked. I grab the umbrella, “What are you crazy!? You’re getting soaked!” now I’m holding it over her.
She says, “You’re getting wet, I feel bad.”
So we’re running down Connecticut avenue fighting over who SHOULDN’T be under the umbrella and keep passing it back and forth until we’re BOTH completely soaked.
Ringing out our clothes on the subway platform, I realize that traveling with someone really does show you who they are.
Even after I showed Jenny that I’ll probably run at the first sign of trouble, she showed me that she’s not only the sort of person willing to give me shelter from a storm, she’d see me stuck alone in the rain and insist on joining me.
Maybe I don’t need to trick her into liking me after all.
Maybe, this is love.
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