If He Was the Last Man on Earth
He is tall, dark, and, believe me, handsome.
And that’s how it began.
With this very letter.
I read her description of him and knew—just knew.
He is tall, dark (little gray) and believe me handsome. He loves the Lord in such a beautiful way. He is full of life and you and he will hit it off immediately . . . I just know you will.
So there he was. The man I’d been waiting for, looking for, and hoping for and now the time had finally come.
I had found him.
Or, to be more accurate, she had found him. And now he only needed to find me.
My kind friend from seminary days had written to tell me about her new boss. He was perfect for me she said and I couldn’t help wanting it to be true.
Because I was 25.
And very lonely.
Not that I was exactly miserable. I was enjoying a pretty good life—worked at a great job, was involved in ministry down in Little Saigon, and lived with dear friends close to the sunny beaches of Southern California.
Hardly qualifies as suffering.
But my true heart’s desire? Was to find my soul-mate – wherever he might be – and marry. To raise a family and enjoy the rest of our days together.
A little happily-ever-after.
And here was a letter describing just the kind of guy I’d always imagined I’d marry. The kind of man I had asked God to bring me. The man I’d been praying for.
Just waiting for me up in Portland, Oregon.
Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride
Now all we had to do is meet one another.
My friend wondered if I was going to be coming up there any time soon? So I could meet her boss?
As a matter of fact, I was flying up in a few weeks’ time to be in a friend’s wedding. A bridesmaid. For the 12th time.
Seriously. Twelve times.
You know, Always the bridesmaid . . . never the bride?
That was me.
Practically a professional. I’d considered including it on my resume: Expert, Experienced Bridesmaid (there’s such a demand for those).
An even dozen taffeta gowns hung all in a row in my closet. In a beautiful array of rainbow colors. With carefully dyed heels to match. It was a little overwhelming.
But no white gowns. No, not one.
So you see how it was.
The Blue-Eyed Man in the Suit
It was to be a lunch.
The plan was for me to show up at his office and go out from there. He worked for (what was then) Multnomah Publishing in Portland—a place I was familiar with and easy to find. His administrative assistant – my friend – had arranged for it all.
All I had to do was show up.
I took great care in preparing myself for this lunch. I’d like to say that this meant devoting myself to prayer, and maybe even fasting, but mostly what this meant is that I spent more time on my hair and make-up than usual. Agonized over my outfit . Painted my nails. That kind of stuff.
I arrived on time (a miracle in itself) and waited outside his door for his assistant to notify him I’d arrived.
Finally, Linda emerged from his office with this somewhat ashen look on her face. As if something terribly wrong had occurred. A natural disaster or some sort of tragedy. Possibly a death in the family.
But before I got the chance to ask her what was up, he came out the door.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
He strode directly toward me, introduced himself, and shook my hand.
Shook my hand, people!
What in the world…? I thought this was supposed to be a date, not a business meeting.
A handsome man in a dark suit.
But all I could see were his blue eyes. Why hadn’t she thought to mention those blue eyes??
Then….(you’re with me on this, aren’t you?) he glanced at his watch and mumbled something about how busy he was, how he had to rush to a meeting, how nice it had been to meet me, etc. etc.
And he was gone.
I stood there in my freshly-pressed blouse, carefully curled hair, manicured nails and lipstick to match and watched the back of his suit walk away.
It took a few sobering seconds for me to figure it out what had just happened . . .
That’s what had happened. I’d just been stood up by Mr. Blue Eyes himself.
And can you guess my response?
Cry? Scream? Laugh?
Nope. I got mad.
Icy. Cold. Anger.
Who did he think he was anyway? Did he actually think this was my idea?? That I was chasing him? That I was desperate?
I don’t think so, Buddy.
Rude, arrogant man.
And I decided right there that he really wasn’t quite so handsome after all.
No, definitely not my type.
Except for those eyes . . . .
The Matthew L. Jacobson Fan Club
I was ready to go home now.
I had somehow lost my appetite in that recent exchange and wanted nothing more than to go home, slip off my heels, and put my hair up in a ponytail, and be done with men.
Probably for the rest of my life.
But Linda wouldn’t have it (oh, my faithful friend!). She quickly organized a Plan B which apparently included lunch with her and the next best thing – the sister of Matthew L Jacobson.
I’ll never forget that lunch
It will go down in history as the most tortuous event in my lunching life. You see, what I didn’t know then was that these two ladies were Matthew’s biggest fans. They spent the entire time going on . . . and on . . . and on about how great this guy was and how “lucky” the girl would be that caught him.
I couldn’t wait for the whole ordeal to be over. Oh, I smiled and nodded at all the appropriate moments, but if they only knew what I was really thinking . . . .
I was no fan of Matthew L. Jacobson.
More like his sworn enemy.
So I found myself back home in my comfy sweats at the end of that humiliating, ridiculous day. And when my girlfriend called later to find out how my lunch date went? My answer was in no way unclear.
“If he was the last man on earth, I wouldn’t go out with him.”
And that was the end of that.
To be continued next week . . . .
*Yes, you’re right, there must be more to the story. Next week Matthew will pick up and tell it from his side. (But just don’t let him persuade you that he wasn’t rude, even if he’s convinced that he had a reasonable explanation
A Romantic Giveaway for Two
Now to celebrate An Uncommon Love, Matthew and I want to offer you a chance to win this Romantic Giveaway for Two. It’s full of all kinds of goodies – from Smoked Salmon (from the Pacific Northwest, of course!) to lovely glass goblets to Moonstruck chocolates (Mmm….my favorite).
How romantic is that!
In His grace,
(This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure.)
*If you would like these posts delivered directly to your inbox, simply subscribe below (and get the FREE eBook, The 7 Habits of a Highly Fulfilling Marriage).