How I Met My Wife

		      by Jack Winter
       Published 25 July 1994 - The New Yorker

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party
I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled
and consolate.  I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the
coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner.
She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total
array.  Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and
she moved in a gainly way.  I wanted desperately to meet
her, but I knew I’d have to make bones about it since I
was travelling cognito.  Beknownst to me, the hostess,
whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper,
so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened.
And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my
manners couldn’t be peccable.  Only toward and heard-of 
behavior would do.  Fortunately, the embarrassment that
my maculate appearance might cause was evitable.  There
were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as
flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata
or a sung hero were slim.  I was, after all, something to
sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to,
someone who usually aroused bridled passion.
So I decided not to risk it.  But then, all at once, for some
apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in
a way that I could make heads and tails of.  I was plussed.
It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and
it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me,
sight seen.  Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being
corrigible, I felt capacitated—as if this were something I was
great shakes at—and forgot that I had succeeded in
situations like this only a told number of times.  So, after
a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made
my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.
Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had
no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous.
Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking
about the hors d’oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion
that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about
myself.  She responded well, and I was mayed that she
considered me a savory character who was up to some
good.  She told me who she was.  “What a perfect nomer,”
I said, advertently.  The conversation become more and
more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail.  But
I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour.  I asked
if she wanted to come with me.  To my delight, she was
committal.  We left the party together and have been
together ever since.  I have given her my love, and she
has requited it.


Thanks to a fwd from neares2

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