My husband and I met on an old-fashioned blind date. A REALLY blind date. The person that set us up did not know my (now) husband personally. He had heard him on the radio, thought he was smart and funny, and decided we’d be a good match.
OK, I guess some background is necessary here…
Dan is a sports broadcaster. He currently has a sports radio talk show here in Chicago and is on the air Monday through Friday from 1:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. (Yes, it is easy for him to talk for five hours straight, every single day. He has a lot to say. About everything.)
Back in 1995, Dan had just started working at the station and was wearing many hats for less money than he could have bought just one. Update anchor, weekend early morning host, and reporter. It was during one of his days as a reporter that started this whole thing.
Dan was covering the Bears training camp, which was up in Platteville, Wisconsin at the time. He called into the morning show and started talking about who was injured, who looked good, gave some soundbites from the coach, etc. The hosts of the show started joking around with him and asked him how the ladies were up there in Platteville. After some silly banter, they ribbed him that no one would ever be good enough for him because he was too picky. So they asked him what kind of girl he was looking for.
“A blonde haired, green eyed, Jewish girl, with a Masters degree in English.” He was not kidding.
My office manager was listening to this on his way to work and thought that I fit (most of) the criteria. (I am blonde, but not naturally, and I have a Bachelor’s degree in English, not a Master’s.) When I got to the office that morning he called me in to see him.
“I have the perfect guy for you. He’s smart, funny, Jewish and from the suburbs.” (Why being from the suburbs was considered a selling point is beyond me, especially since I grew up in New Jersey, not the Chicago area.)
I was 25 at the time and going out on a ton of blind dates, so I was open to the idea.
“How do you know him?” I asked.
“I don’t,” Ray sheepishly replied.
“Look, he’s on the radio, I listen to him every morning, and today he said he was looking for someone like you. I think he went to Duke.”
“Are you crazy?!” Then I went back to my desk.
Ray called me on my extension about every 15 minutes throughout the entire day. “Really, you should go out with this guy!”
Finally, I caved. Mainly to shut Ray up. Ray crafted a note to Dan explaining that he heard him that morning and that he worked with a young woman he may like. I edited the note and held my breath as Ray faxed it over. (Yes, faxed it. This was 1995!)
Dan had driven back from Platteville that day and happened to be sitting right next to the fax machine when Ray’s note came through. He laughed but decided to call the guy back anyway. They chatted, Ray gave Dan my number, and he called me the next day. We made a date to go out on September 5th.
When Dan picked me up at my apartment (which was only two blocks from his), I was relieved to see he was good looking and seemed relatively normal, and we headed out to Navy Pier. We got there, walked around a bit, and decided to take a ride on the Ferris wheel.
It was 9:02 p.m. and the rides stopped at 9:00 p.m. Two minutes too late!
“Please!” I begged the operator. “He’s about to propose!” I joked.
Fine. We went out for a drink instead.
When he dropped me off later that evening I said, “You know… we are either going to get married or never see each other again. This story is just too good for a three month relationship.”
He proposed on January 13, 1998 and we were married on the first day of spring the following year, March 20, 1999. Thirteen years next month, two kids and one very special love story.