The phone call I got tonight was not out of the ordinary at this age. An engagement. Another very wise man put a beautiful ring on the hand of a beautiful girl. Because that's what my friends are. Beautiful, amazing women inside and out, and the men who steal their hearts, well, they should feel pretty darn priveleged to do so. Duh.
But this particular engagement got me thinking, and laughing, about first impressions and how wrong they are. She was a stranger I was blindly roomed with my freshman year in college. He was a graduate four years my senior from my hometown that I had, admittedly, misjudged as a jerk. Really, I knew nothing about him in high school, but interpreted gossip rumblings into an opinion and told my friend not to go out with him. When I skeptically hung out with them together for the first time, he opened car doors and pulled out chairs. Yeah, including mine. This is how you win brownie points with the friends, boys. As the night went on, I slowly tried to swallow the lump of misguided judgement that was lodged in my throat.
She was a stranger I thought I'd have nothing in common with. He was a distant name I had the wrong impression of. Now, she's one of my closest friends and he's the man that's marrying her. And, together, they were the couple that threw me my going away party when I moved to California many years ago. For someone who's convinced she's always right, I'm very glad that in this case I was wrong.