Priceless

* As Number Twelve chronicles the story of how she met her husband, it reminded me I've never shared with you just how Luke and I came to be. I wrote the story last year, and it was published by the Rensselaer writing club I belonged to. Here, the highlights. And one adorably dorky photo.

Almost five years ago, when I was writing for the second-smallest daily newspaper in Indiana, I was a junior in college who wasn't looking for a serious relationship. I already had one proving to be more trouble than it was worth. But when Luke's brown eyes and kind handshake greeted me one December afternoon, I instantly knew he was something special. When I returned to my residence hall an hour later, I couldn't help babbling to my friends about the cute reporter I'd met that day. He believed in God, loved his parents, and thought stealing was wrong; that alone placed him above and beyond every boyfriend I'd ever had. I was hooked.

I still had my own beau back home, but my enchantment with the cigarette smoke and Play Station 2 that so encompassed him was fading fast. Breaking up with him was easy; showing Luke I was now an eligible bachelorette required more effort. There were "just-writing-to-say-hi" messages delivered several times a week to his home e-mail address, conversations about Kevin Smith movies and Ice Cube, and invitations for him to join the Relay For Life team I was captaining in town. Soon he was making mixed tapes--always an encouraging sign, am I right, ladies?--and returning from vacations with souvenirs especially for me. When I found out he had reluctantly agreed to volunteer his time at a local charity bachelor auction that April, and that there was one ticket to spare, I felt my cards had finally fallen into place. The night of the auction, though, I was beginning to doubt my decision, so I devised a plan: I would not take along any credit cards or receive any cash advances from my ATM. My ammunition consisted of a Monopoly-themed checkbook with a fifteen-dollar balance and a twenty-dollar bill. If God couldn't find it in His heart to present to me The Man Of My Dreams for a combined thirty-five bucks, surely it was a sign we were not meant to be.

As I made my way into the VFW hall, wearing the only dress I owned at the time, a velvet number totally inappropriate for spring, I did what any restless girl would do in an unfamiliar place: head to the bar. By the time the auction began, the room was slightly off-kilter and my bladder was filled to capacity. Meanwhile, Luke had already downed four rum and cokes. Earlier in the week, he'd confided in me that he wasn't very secure in the Looks Department and was afraid it would detract potential buyers. Silly boy--I was already worried that hoards of drunk female professionals would trump me with their plastic before I made my own meager offer.

And suddenly, he was up.

"Can we start the bidding at fifty dollars?" the emcee asked. I bit my lip and frantically shot a look at one of my female coworkers, who whispered, "Bid, Frema! Bid!"

"Fifty dollars!" I shouted, and the whole room stopped and stared at my overzealous announcement. I couldn't meet Luke’s eyes as the emcee said, "I've got fifty dollars! Can I hear fifty-five?"

"Fifty-five!" I replied. Then, "Sixty!" I eventually outbid myself with a grand total of one hundred and twenty dollars. The other ladies never stood a chance.

"Sold to the lady in red for one hundred and twenty dollars!" he concluded, and then it was up to me to collect my new prize. I grabbed Luke's arm. "I wouldn't let them get you," I whispered, still afraid to meet his eyes.

"Thanks," he said.

After the bidding was over, there was the small matter of payment. That's when I remembered my pre-auction resolution and the fact that I was ninety-five dollars short. I gulped as I wrote out my check and handed it to the cashier. Everything will work out, I told myself firmly, but really, it didn't. I bounced that check, as well as the one I wrote to cover it. And so it went for two months until I landed a steady summer job selling popcorn and pretzels to snobby tourists at Navy Pier. Adjusted grand total: one hundred and ninety five dollars.

But he's worth ten million times more.

Comments

[Sambo V.]

You're quite a lovely pair and I love you two sooo much!!

[Anonymous]

Awwwwwwwwwwww what a wonderful love story. Be sure you tell this one to your children as well as baby Anna. I too fell in love with Luke the first time I laid eyes on him. Although he was just a wee one of a few weeks old I knew he was someone special.

Aunt Ruthie
P.S. moacz? Is that a brand of chocolate? lol

[Number Twelve]

This story is totally awesome. I am SO glad you shared it. The black & white pic of you in kind of a mini-skirt and Luke in a suit with the wood paneling / fireplace combo in the background it could be from the sixties. It kind of freaked me out at first like you're both immortal Highlanders that don't age.

[Liz]

I agree with Twelve... when I first glanced at the photo I wondered if it could possibly be your parents! ;-)

That is a really cute how-we-met story.

[Lisa]

I did a double-take on the photo, too.

What a great story! Awwwwww.

[Luke]

THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!

[Anonymous]

I love that story. It is so true.

Daddy D.

[PaintingChef]

Sometimes a girl has to bounce a check or two to get what she wants...right?

That's a great story!

[Molly]

This is my favorite story too.

[Mabel]

Awwww. And love the photo.

[Brooke]

Excuse me Ms.Frema but you yell at Sambo and I for not updating and you wrote this on Wednesday and it is already Sunday.

[Tommy]

Just think, that first day you OWNED him. hee hee hee.

Did you ever Command, "DANCE MONKEY BOY! DANCE!!!"

Just kidding.