How I met your mother:

1968.
I'm a 27 year old bachelor.
A mutual friend told me about this woman.
"She's a blond. Very pretty. And SMART! She's a consultant with Revlon. I think you'd really like her."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't do blind dates. I'm doing just fine in the 'date' department."
And I was. As a 27 year old fighter pilot, I was sowing wild oats with abandon. I was a cad.


To the future Miz t. she said "He's a fighter pilot; tall, dark, and handsome. Very dashing. You'd really like him."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm concentrating on my career. I don't like blind dates and besides, I don't have time for that now."

Stalemate?
Not so much.

Our friend called and asked "Can you give me a ride to the airport tomorrow afternoon? I have to pick up a friend. My car's in the shop."
(That was a blatant lie, as I later found out.)
"You can take my car."
"I can't drive a straight shift."
I had an MGB at the time.
"Jeez...OK"
"Wear a suit."
We used to 'dress' when going out back then.
"Why."
"We might go for a drink on the way back."
"OK."
jeez


As I later learned our five foot tall friend was standing behind me, jumping up and down, pointing to me, and mouthing "THIS IS HIM! THIS IS HIM!" when the future Miz t. came off the airplane.

We did go for drinks.
Several.
I was smitten.
Six months later we were married.
And 46 years later, we still are.