Bowled Over
A romantic essay to celebrate Fejj’s 40-year anniversary with the Little Missus
Setting the scene
This weekend is our 40th anniversary. The Little Missus and us. Yep, four frickin’ decades with one and only one significant other. Can you imagine?
Knowing some of you as we do, some of you don’t have to imagine at all. Because like us, you’ve been in long, continuous, monogamous partnerships, whether married or not.
Matters not. We’re not judgy about that sort of thing.
As for monogamous or not - that’s up to you. You swing? In an open thing? Polyamory? On your first marriage? Second? Third? Not really into marriage? BFF?
We are a bit judgy when it comes to just one thing: cheating. If it’s an open relationship, ok. That’s consensual. We don’t understand it, but we don’t need to. That’s not cheating. But cheating? Well, just not cool in our book. Don’t respect it. But we digress.
To celebrate our 40th, monogamous, non-cheating not open marriage, we share with you today a little essay we wrote back in 1986, when we could not have possibly known this would be a 40-year, monogamous non-cheating deal. This takes us back to when we were poor, and not a little desperate for some time off somewhere nice, and not the back of our 1970 VW Van. We really wanted a chance to go somewhere nice, romantic and special, without breaking the bank.
We still don’t fully recall how we found this opening, but a beautiful little Sedona, Arizona hotel advertised they were holding a national Valentines Day essay contest with a very tight word count - just 750 words!
Yikes! Short was never our forte as a writer. As y’all know…
But get this! The essay winner would receive an all-paid, three-day vacation to this lovely little place in Sedona on Valentines Day weekend. We really liked this “all-paid” idea. And we fancied ourselves a semi-accomplished writer, so why not try? We had a story to tell!
The writing of a national champion
Now, to win a national essay competition for something restricted to 750 words takes a team - maybe even a village! So here’s how we did it: We wrote a draft, rewrote that draft, ripped up that draft, then rewrote a second draft two or three times. Then we tore that up too. Ah, but then the third draft! Total shit. Tore that up as well.
But people the 4th draft! Ah the 4th draft! We asked the best man from our wedding, also a writer and an accomplished English teacher to help us with this one. He helped us pare us down 1,000 words to 750, which helped us get our essay to what we might call maximum efficiency.
Now, in full disclosure, best man Ron is a supremely half-assed Wrap reader. He’s less than patient with our shenanigan style of writing. And who can blame him? We are roundabout, indirect, winding and serpentine. Tortuous, twisting, anfractuous and oblique. Circumlocutory, periphrastic, discursive, digressive, long-winded, evasive and ambagious.
Not to mention all the needless synonyms. Did we mention the needless synonyms?
If Ron even bothers to read these words, it will only be because we sent him a note to let him know we mentioned him. For that reason alone he might show minor interest to learn he was mentioned.
Ron! We are mentioning you dude!
Moving on from Ron
Ok, so be that as it may, we do believe deeply in this little essay from so many years ago, which celebrates how we and the Little Missus first kindled what turned out to be a fire that would rage for at least 40 years, with more still to come. And you know this by now, right? We won. You are reading material right now emanating from national fucking champion!
Our three days in Sedona were supremely romantic, just as this weekend’s planned trip to Pacific Grove - on our own dime this time - will surely be as well.
Four decades baby! That ain’t nothin to take for granted. We’ve been blessed - blessed to have found each other in the very unusual way our essay will soon describe. Blessed also to have raised two beautiful daughters who today are as hopelessly in love with their significant others as the Little Missus and we were back in the day, and remain in this day.
So here’s the story. Pardon the pun that you will soon better understand. We plan to “spare” you no detail. Strike that if you must.
It’s just 750 words. Enjoy.
Bowled Over
By Fejj Mubla, 1986.
First place, national Valentine’s Day essay competition.
Our unusual courtship commenced with a hard blow to the hip.
She was playing hacky sack with my friends – this lithe, slender blonde with piercing blue eyes and small button nose, clad in a form-fitting tube top and draw-string pants. Surrounded by our barracks-like dorm at the University of California, Santa Cruz, Robin, a precocious freshman, was earning admiring glances from would-be suitors while kicking and kneeing her way through the game that warm September day in 1980.
Word was already out: Robin’s eye was on me. My college friends would have died for that eye, but not me. Being a dignified sophomore – more self aware and elevated within the student hierarchy – I was determined not to be wooed by this youthful, immature creature, her visual charms not withstanding.
Still, I joined the hacky circle, impressing her no doubt with my superior hand-eye-foot coordination. Soon thereafter, we strolled as a group to the western field for a sunset view. Robin ambled over and playfully threw her hip into mine, but with more force than she intended.
Like the number one pin on a perfect strike, I was bowled over, knocked down and splayed horizontal. I was still wondering what hit me when I looked up to see this impudent freshman girl laughing devilishly, her blue eyes twinkling. Her laughter spread like contagion to the others.
I failed to see the humor.
Over the next month or so, I punished Robin’s overtures and overzealous hip with sophomoric indifference, a small measure of justice for my bruised body and ego. Undaunted, she still managed to creep into my life. My friends embraced her, making contact unavoidable. Reluctantly, I consented to accept her, albeit only as “one of the gang.” At mealtimes, we sat across. On weekends, we hiked in a group, exploring the wooded ravines that lead from the campus down to the beach. We danced once (she asked) at a dorm concert. Sighting each other across campus, we’d wave. Not exactly romance, but cordial co-existence.
By late spring, Robin’s overtures had noticeably diminished – a retreat that surprisingly led me to feel deflated, even annoyed. When she sought company one day from anyone in the “gang” for a trip to San Francisco in her convertible, I surprised myself by volunteering. Two others dropped out at the last minute, causing it to happen: an inadvertent date.
We talked all the way to the city, laughing about common friends and their travails. We visited her friend in Piedmont Hills, toured the San Francisco Zoo, then drove home along Highway 1, a scenic road that hugs the Pacific Coast.
With sunset looming, we pulled over, kicked off our shoes and crossed a deserted beach while the last of the sun’s rays touched down over the water, throwing off one of those amazing flashes. I’m not sure what possessed me next. Was it the warm spring air or the day’s easy, fun conversation? Was it watching the zoo’s penguins nesting an hour earlier, or the effortless passing of time with a most beautiful woman? All I know for certain is I clutched Robin’s hand and pulled her to the foot of the waves. There, I embraced her and we kissed deeply.
It’s now 25 years and two teenage kids later since my future fiancée bowled me over, literally sweeping me off my feet that fateful September day.
Maybe it takes a hard blow for a guy like me to recognize his own soul mate standing right in front of him, smiling devilishly. I’m still not sure what hit me. I do, however, finally see the humor.
A very nice story and expressed with long lasting love. I am happy to have been a witness to all of it.
Whilst I don't remember my specific contributions, I'm sure they were huge. I will accept a one third portion of the prize retroactively without complaint. If my efforts at all played a part in cementing the foundation of your relationship, I'm honored and might even consider that reward enough. Happy 40th.