Origin of the spouses

I’m in a retrospective mood, so what could be better than an entry on how my wife and I got together? Pizza, you say? Well, okay – apart from pizza, then? Oh shut up!

It was a dark and stormy night. No really – it was. Very dark, because the storm had knocked out the lights and I was alone in a strange town. Anyone who has been to Port Elizabeth would know precisely how strange it is, but I digress. I decided to take a stroll down to the local tavern for some company.

I ended up in a conversation with gay fellow who tried to pick me up (in his defence, the interior of the bar was poorly lit by a few flickering candles and he didn’t have his spectacles with him at the time). When the awkward “I don’t think we’re playing for the same team” moment had passed, we got along famously and eventually became friends. Several months later, through an intricate chain of introductions (not entirely unlike the ‘Six Degrees of Separation from the Pope’ game), I was finally brought face-to-face with Miss Mrs-Kyknoord-To-Be.

I imagine her ruminations went something along the lines of, “Hmm. Seems a pleasant enough sort and doesn’t look too hideous if you squint a bit. Earning potential could be better, though. Still, he appears sufficiently pliant to bend to my will”

“Ooh. Want cookie”, thought I and before you could say “Aisle. Altar. Hymn”, we were married*.

* Actually, it was about a year and half later, but my gentlemanly nature prevents me from giving a blow-by-blow account of the intervening months.


15 thoughts on “Origin of the spouses

  1. anne: I’ve never used it, so you are free to take it out for a test-drive. Not sure how readily it translates, though.

    eKapa: Oh man, that’s good.

    chitty: Whirlwind? Dude, you are so sharp. Yup, PE is indeed the other windy city (despite the best efforts of their publicity bureau to lose the label).


  2. As a native of the much-maligned Friendly City it is my duty to defend said city. Granted, it does get pretty breezy sometimes. Emphasis on pretty though. And what exactly do you mean by “strange”?

    (b.t.w. I just read your trashy story below, and I just gotta say I would love to meet this woman! She’s my idol!


  3. Aah, young love. Or old. No idea how old you were. =) I love your interpretation of what she was thinking! It is now your job to come up with a scenario on how I will meet the man of my dreams. Or at least the man who will take out my trash…


  4. anne: Of course, that is so true! How heartless of me.

    terri: I spent seven years in PE (or NMMM, as the new City Fathers would have it), so I had plenty of opportunity to experience the place up close. Since you are an ex-pat Port Elizabethan, I’m pretty sure that we both know what I’m on about.

    livewire: I was sixteen, she was twelve… no, wait – that was a song I heard on the radio this morning – we were actually both in our mid-twenties when we met. That’s an interesting challenge you have set for me, Ms McGoldNugget. I may work on it over the weekend and e-mail it to you if I can manage to drag my lazy carcass off the couch.


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