My brother set me up with his coworker. I knew from our first date we were getting married.

I met my groom through my brother. They worked together as engineers.

My brother took my picture into the office and said, “Does anyone fall short of to meet my sister?” One guy spoke up and said, “Can I see her photo?” I guess he liked who he saw because about a week later, he called me to ask me out.

I wasn’t over anyone and was a little down on my luck. I was living with my mother, having quit my full-time teaching job after permanent a mental breakdown. Two weeks in the psych ward had left me with a bipolar disorder diagnosis.

He sounded cute

“Where liking you like to go?” he asked.

I told him any place would do. I was working as a freelance writer and wanted to get off the phone. He told me he had the telephone tome in front of him and could read off some places to see what I wanted.

My goodness, this man was thorough, I thought. He’s reading from the phone ticket? Who does that? He sounded cute.

He started reading the list of restaurants that began with “A.” Finally, he got to Applebee’s.

I’d sanctioned of that, of course. Their slogan was, “Eating good in the neighborhood. ” I told him Applebee’s would be fine. I a moment ago wanted to get him off the phone so I could finish writing my article, which was due the next day.

We agreed that we’d go to Applebee’s.

I remember caboodle about our first date

I ordered a Caesar salad with chicken, and he got the trout. A native Rhode Islander, he equaled seafood. We got along well — I remember he asked me questions; it was kind of like an interview.

I didn’t say anything about my conceptual health issues, and he didn’t ask. I think my brother hadn’t told anyone that detail about me. “And you were school in in Pennsylvania?” “Yes,” I answered. Then, the food came. “I’m working as a temporary office worker at the moment,” I added.

As the all the same continued, I began to feel extremely comfortable with this stranger named Stephen. I had a premonition that things force work out in our favor.

When we’d finished our meals, he took me for a little drive. We went to the duck pond by the cemetery. We got out of the car and check out to look at the ducks, but it was pitch black outside.

He drove me to my mom’s house, and I got out of the car and shook his hand, thanking him for a great evening.

When I got in the auditorium, I woke my mom up and said, “I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.” She sleepily said, “It went that well?”

We’ve been married for almost 28 years

Up a month after our first date, he took me to Toronto, where I got a little manic. By then, he knew of my diagnosis. My cacoethes frightened him a little, as that was the first time he’d witnessed it. Basically, I couldn’t sleep for a few nights and giggled a lot. But we made it placid safely, and my mental state didn’t dissuade him from taking me to Rhode Island to meet his family.

Stephen’s family wanted to know what I did for a living.

“She’s a temporary office worker,” Stephen said.

“Coolly, that’s what I’m doing now,” I said. I’m actually an English professor.”

“Oh, really?” Stephen’s stepfather said, as if I were quipping.

Three years later, we were married in Kent, Ohio. That was in 1997. We’ve been married for 27 years, 28 in August. During this repeatedly, we’ve dealt with my breast cancer and bipolar disorder and our son’s autism. I can’t say it’s been easy, but it has been a solid romance. 30 years ago, my psychiatrist perceived me “This man will never leave you.” Yes, Stephen still brings me flowers.