I’ve heard a lot of stories from couples about how they met. Everyone seems to have a cutemeet story about how they got together with their soulmate while at a concert, or at a bar, or swimming with sharks, or whatever ridiculous activity they were doing at the time.
I hate those stories. They are only entertaining to the people that experienced them. The rest of us listen politely, nod our heads, and wonder how long it will be before we can get some alcohol into our system to make the pain go away.
For this reason, I am not going to tell you about how I met my wife. Instead, I want to tell you the story of what I did that almost made her leave me. To be more accurate, I want to tell you how I almost lost my wife … literally.
Back in college, my roommates and I enjoyed water skiing. My dad had a boat that he kept at Lake Don Pedro, and we were allowed to take it out whenever we wanted, as long as we kept it gassed up and didn’t run it into a pile of rocks on the shore. One weekend, we all decided to head for the lake and do some skiing.
My (future) wife and I had only been dating for about a year. I thought it would be a great idea to invite her along with us since she and my roommates seemed to get along pretty well. My roommates, Dave and Steve, agreed.
My wife had never been water skiing before, and I figured this was as good a time as any to teach her how.
We all drove up to the lake and, with a full tank of gas in the boat, a cooler full of beer, and miles of open water, we started skiing.
My roommates and I went first. We spent the first hour or so taking turns in the water while those of us in the boat experimented with ways to transport a can of beer to the guy at the end of the rope. It didn’t always work out the way we hoped. A couple beers got lost in the water, never to be seen again, and there was a near miss incident during an attempt of “Just throw it to me and I’ll catch it.”
Apparently, a full beer can thrown at a skier who is travelling at 30 miles per hour across the water can be considered a lethal weapon. Who knew?
Finally, it was my wife’s turn in the water. We showed her how to hold the rope and keep her skis in front of her as the boat started to move. The first time she tried to get up, the rope pulled right out of her hands. I told her that she needed to hold on and not let go of the handle if she was going to get up on the skis. She nodded and we tried again.
To her credit, she did not let go this time. We dragged her face-first behind the boat for quite a while and nearly drowned her before she released the rope on her second attempt. When we went back to try again, my wife didn’t want to play anymore. She told us she had had enough fun for one day.
My roommates and I convinced her to try one more time, mostly by refusing to let her back into the boat until she agreed. With no other options, she grabbed the tow rope and waited for me to reposition the boat.
On the third attempt, she managed to get up on her feet. It only lasted a few seconds, but she was so excited by the success she wanted to do it again. On the fourth attempt, she got up and stayed up.
This is where it all went bad.
With my wife hanging onto the tow rope and me driving the boat, we set off across the lake to see how long she could stay upright.
My roommates were sitting at the back of the boat and were supposed to be watching to make sure my wife didn’t fall. I heard Dave say, “Hey Steve, hand me a beer from the ice chest.” He also asked me if I wanted one, but I said I would get one later.
I heard two beer cans pop open behind me. That was when I asked Dave, “Is she still up?”
I didn’t get a response.
When I turned around to look, I saw my roommates enjoying ice-cold beers and laughing about something one of them had said, and I saw an empty tow rope bouncing along the water in the wake of our boat.
My wife was nowhere to be seen.
I yelled, “Where is she?”
Steve said, “Who?” Then, “Oh, yeah. I don’t know. I didn’t see her fall.”
I turned the wheel, bringing the boat into a sharp U-turn and headed back the way we had just come. I slowed down because I didn’t really know where we had lost her, and I didn’t think driving over the top of my wife’s head while she was bobbing in the water would make her feel any better.
We eventually found her a couple of minutes later. We had apparently travelled almost a mile after she fell.
I tried to explain that we didn’t see her fall because beer seemed to be more important to my roommates than she was. She failed to find any the humor in the explanation.
I asked if she wanted to try another run. Not surprisingly, she said no. What was also not surprising was the amount of colorful language she used during her refusal.
The rest of the day was pretty chilly, and I’m not referring to the weather.
I drove her home that evening and apologized for about the thousandth time when we got to her house. I expected that was going to be the last time I ever saw her, but for reasons known only to my wife, she agreed to go out with me again despite my attempts at murdering her in the lake.
It wasn’t until years later that she finally admitted why she didn’t break up with me that day. She told me, “If I broke up with you, I would never see you again. Then how could I make you pay for what you did to me?”
True love is a beautiful thing.
.
.
.
Enjoying Deep Dark Thoughts? Follow me on Facebook so you don’t miss a post. Just go to my page and click the “Like” button to receive updates on my blog and other projects.
And you can follow me on Twitter @gallenwilbanks.