I first met him when I was only thirty-three. I was in the bowling alley carrying a soccer ball when he trekked in. He was wearing a chartreuse hoodie, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his buttocks, but I pretended not to notice. I was about to set the soccer ball down when he climbed beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the soccer ball right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to grumble.
After an awkward apology, he asked me to go to the Starbucks for a V8. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.
At the Starbucks, I learned that his name was Quintin, and that he was a hoarder. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a social worker.
I guess it was love at first grumble. Some might say we had pots in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was eight years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still grumbling for each other.