How My Wife Met Me

As a teenager, it came to me in one of those blazing flashes of insight for which I would later become famous that if I wanted a family I would need a woman’s help. The problem was how to put myself in position for the right woman to find me.
Giving this question considerable reflection, I concluded that I should go to the college which she was attending. Soon after I arrived on campus I decided to narrow the field in order to avoid a pandemic of heartbreak in the girls’ (as they were called in those days) dormitories.
My first requirement was a woman smart enough to accept the challenge of making something of me. So I obtained the Dean’s List to check out the most intelligent among them. Second, although I had no theological objection to the absence of form or comeliness (Isaiah 53:2), I had a decided preference for the presence of both. So I carefully studied the college yearbook for the good looking ones. Third, since my mother told me that women who are bright and beautiful and not Presbyterian are most likely in an unstable condition, I checked the church preference list.
This procedure produced four names. The first one was already engaged so I backed off. The second was eight feet tall. I was not interested in climbing a ladder to–er–gaze into her eyes. I called the third one several times but she was always scheduled to wash her hair that night. I finally figured out that she had some rare skin disease and I quit calling. That left Margaret, and when I announced that she had won the prize–namely me–I must admit she hid her delight extremely well.
In fact, to my dismay, I discovered Margaret was crossing streets to avoid encountering me. At our college, each semester we had assigned tables in the dining room, so I paid good money to a guy to move so I could occupy his chair across from Margaret. Still she would neither look at me nor speak to me. I ate three meals a day for two months staring at her. When she finally looked me in the eye, she said, “It is rude to stare,” I could tell she was powerfully smitten by me.
However, Margaret had other suitors and they worried me. Then I read in the Bible that all is fair in love and war. I went to each one and told him he was wasting his time since Margaret was crazy about me. That was what philosophers call “proleptic truth.” That is, it was going to be the truth if I could get them to drop out of the competition, which they all did because they did not understand that philosophic distinction. Moreover, the Bible teaches that a faint heart never won a fair lady. Therefore, I did Margaret a big favor in recognizing their lack of persistence and removing them from her life.
After twenty years of marriage and five children, I thought it was safe to explain to Margaret what had happened to all those gullible swains. She had always wondered. It was the only time I ever saw her eyes cross and steam come out of both ears at the same time.
Now, if you ask Margaret, she will deny that this is a true account, but I ask you, “Would I lie to you?”

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