Cute and short.

[Lawrence Bryan]

Was this posted here before?

Lawrence




How I Met My Wife

  by Jack Winter

Published July 25, 1994 in The New Yorker

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very  
chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her  
standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a  woman in a  
state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her  clothing shevelled,  
and she moved in a gainly way.  I wanted desperately to meet her, but  
I knew I'd have to make  bones about it since I was travelling cognito.

Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of,  
was very  proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad  
happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my  
manners couldn't be peccable.

Only toward and heard-of behaviour would  do.  Fortunately, the  
embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable.  
There were two ways about it, but the  chances that someone as  
flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung  
hero were slim.

I was, after all,  something to sneeze at, someone you could easily  
hold a candle  to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.  So I  
decided not to risk it.

But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my  
direction and smiled in a way  that I could make heads and tails of.   
I was plussed.  It was concerting to see that she was communicado,  
and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil  like me, sight  
seen.

Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but,  being corrigible, I felt  
capacitated as if this were something I was great shakes at, and  
forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told  
number of times.

So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my  
way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.  Nevertheless, since  
this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu  
speech, I was petuous.

Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the  
hors d'oeuvres,  trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid,  
and perhaps  even bunk a few myths about myself.  She responded well,  
and I was mayed that she considered me a savoury character who was up  
to some good.  She told me who she  was.  "What a perfect nomer," I  
said advertently.

The conversation became more and more choate, and we spoke at length   
to much avail.  But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a  godly  
hour.  I asked if she wanted to come with me.  To my delight, she was  
committal.

We left the party together and have  been together ever since. I have  
given her my love, and she has requited it.



"How I Met My Wife," by Jack Winter Published July 25, 1994 in The  
New Yorker



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