Do you ever watch those commercials for dating sites and wonder what if? When the guy from eHarmony gets talking about the 29 different dimensions of compatibiliity, I wonder if Clorinda and I were to sign up would we match on even 1 or 2 of them. More than one person has questioned what she is doing with a bum like me, which is understandable. She's smart and beautiful and nice and human. It's her fault, though.
So in 1995, I moved to Las Vegas to go to UNLV (don't worry--I've since repented). I'd never been to Las Vegas, but it was a good chance to try something new. I attended the University Ward (congregation) on campus and started to make some friends. Well, I started to follow people that I recognized around and hoped that they would acknowledge my existence, with varying degrees of success.
My big night came in mid-February. The ward was going to the Las Vegas Temple to participate in baptisms, and since I didn't have anything going on (heck, I still couldn't get people to talk to me), I signed up to go along. I was asked to perform confirmations, so there I was sitting in the room when this tall, slender beauty walked in and took a seat. She handed me a slip of paper with the name GATRELL, so that I'd get it right. "Is it guh-TRELL?" I asked.
"It's GA-trell" came the reply. And those were the first words I ever heard Clorinda speak.
I was fascinated by this tall brunette. She was certainly not caught up in herself, which was refreshing. She shunned the typical accoutrements of 20-something life. She was a math teacher (1st eHarmony fail) who favored Europe over Hawaii (second eFail).
But I was slightly obsessed by her.
As luck would have it, I had found a friend (thanks Wendell for taking pity on me) who happened to run with the same group that Clorinda did, so I started hanging out with her. Except that she didn't hang out with us. She was filled with excuses for not going to get Thai food ("I have to go to bed because I have to teach in the morning") (never mind that we went at 6:00) or the movie ("I have to go to bed because I have to teach in the morning") (but it's Friday) or to make late night prime-rib-runs ("I have to go to bed because I have to teach in the morning") (what does that have to do with getting prime rib at 11:30 at night?). I was starting to think that she like math more than any normal person should.
And then I saw the light--I knew just what I had to do. I had a math class at UNLV that was--how do I say this delicately--a disaster. The teacher was from India or Pakistan or some neighboring country. His mastery of the English language was considerably better than my Hindi, but it was certainly a far cry from the Queen's English. Add to that the fact that he lectured for the entire class period while facing a white board and writing out math problems. I was in serious danger of turning my college experience into something like my high school experience, which was not a good thing. I asked Clorinda for some help.
She said yes.
And then, just a few days before I was supposed to go to her apartment for the help, it clicked. All of the math made sense. So I did what any good, honest, red-blooded American college male would do in that circumstance. I played dumb.
Clorinda did an amazing job teaching me finite math. I think she caught on that I didn't really need the help, probably because I watched her a lot more than I watched the math problems she was working out on the paper. But it was good--she confirmed what I already knew--I had figured out the math! Woohoo!
That was our first date, and like all good first dates, it led no where. Clorinda had to get to bed early because she had to teach in the morning. (Swear words).
Having figured out finite math, I now understood that the school year was finite, meaning it would end at some point and take with it Clorinda's (really lame) excuse for not going out with me. On Memorial Day 1995, the ward had an activity where we learned to country-swing dance (I am amazing, by the way, but I've retired, so you'll just have to take my word for it). The last day of school that year was going to be that Friday, and knowing that Clorinda really wanted to see King Arthur's Tournament at the Excalibur (you know, I could do a whole blog entry or seven about how tacky this town is. Whatever), I asked her to go. Having lost her excuse (thank you Clark County School District) and being presented with the opportunity to go to a show she really wanted to see on someone else's dime, she was forced to accept.
When Friday came around we went over to the show. It was great fun, and we got to eat like midieval peasants. Apparently, midieval peasants did not use silverware. Or napkins. They just ate large portions of chicken with their hands. I tried to hold Clorinda's hand, but it slipped right through from all the grease.
After the show we walked around and talked. We sat by the pool at the Tropicana and dipped our feet in the water. About 11:00, a couple who had clearly been knocking back the adult beverages that night came to join us. I say join us, but really they were soliciting us to join them in a little skinny dipping. This preceded the "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" days, so we were less than inclined to join in the festivities. (eFail no. 3.) (Just kidding.)
That was Friday. On Saturday we went to Lake Mead with a bunch of people from the ward. Sunday was church and related activities. Monday I worked, but we had FHE that night and then went to Sam's Town with some friends. On Tuesday, Clorinda boarded a plane for Germany (an obvious eFail no. 4). She came by my apartment before she left to say good-bye, but that was it. For nine (9!) weeks she was in Europe and elsewhere. And I was in Las Vegas, still chasing the cheap-prime-rib dream.
I did a little dating, though not much, while she was gone. We certainly were not an item, let alone an exclusive item. She came home for ten days in the end of July/beginning of August. I stayed at home on Friday night awaiting her arrival. When she finally showed up, she dropped by the apartment but wouldn't even come inside. It was a "hi, I'm back" visit that lasted all of about two minutes.
I wasted a Friday night in Vegas for that? (eFail 5.)
Saturday morning I drove my butt over to her apartment to ask her to go out that night. We did. And we went out just about every day the rest of the time she was in town. But that was only a week and a half. And then she was gone again.
Her dad was a career man in the Army and had been in Germany for 5 years. He had been transferred to Carlisle Pennsylvania, and Clorinda's brother was returning home from his mission to Bulgaria, so Clorinda was headed East to see him.
Fast forward to the end of September. On a Saturday morning, we went to Zion National Park in Utah to do some hiking with some friends. They stayed out in Logandale, but Clorinda and I headed back to Las Vegas for a friend's wedding reception that night. After the reception ended, we headed to Clorinda's apartment to watch movie. I don't remember the movie at all, because we never got around to watching it.
Clorinda was in the mood to talk.
And talk she did. For about two hours, she explained to me the five (5) things (this was pre-eHarmony, so there were only five) she was looking for in the perfect man. Devilish good looks (obviously), highly intelligent (duh), more money that Bill Gates (wait, what?), really great shoes (?), and NOT from Idaho (whew). I had barely passed!
OK, so those weren't the five things. It was five completely different things. She was looking for someone who loved his family, loved the Lord, was sophisticated (?), had a sense of humor, and was intelligent. Thankfully, the finite math class had not convinced Clorinda that I did not qualify under two or more of her qualifications. She finished (for real, it took like two hours) and then turned and looked me straight in the eyes and said, "You have all five." And then she stared.
After a few seconds, I realized I'd forgotten my line. I looked to the wings, but there was nobody there to prompt me, so I said the only thing I could think of.
"I guess this means we're getting married."
That was late Saturday night. It may have been Sunday morning by that time. That is an important fact.
We attended church Sunday morning, and then we were driving out to my parents' house for dinner. Realizing what we had just committed to do, I realized we would have to tell our parents and suggested that we should maybe decide on a date for a wedding.
"Well," said Clorinda, "my family is coming to Las Vegas in December for the wedding."
Wait, what? But we JUST DECIDED THIS LAST NIGHT! LIKE AT MIDNIGHT!
"Back in August, when I was in Pennsylvania, I made plane reservations for the family to come to Las Vegas in December for our wedding."
Let's talk about August. We'd had fewer dates than I have fingers. We certainly had not discussed the "L" word ("love", if you're confused). But she made plane reservations? Mind you, plane reservations in 1995 were far different than they are today. You couldn't just log on to Travelocity and compare ticket prices across a bunch of airlines. No, you had to physically call the airline, or use a travel agent, or go to the airport and stand in line. LIFE WAS HARD IN THE 90s! But she had done it.
I had been engaged for six weeks and I had no idea. Best six weeks of the entire engagement.
Come December, her family all arrived for her wedding. She, of course, looked radiant. I was devilishly handsome and wasn't from Idaho, so I did my part. We were, in reality, a couple of really naive, young kids, but it's been almost twenty years and we're still going strong.
Today is Clorinda's birthday. She's older than me again, just like she is for two months every year. Happy birthday Clorinda. I don't think that eHarmony would put us together, but maybe they don't have it all figured out over there. I love you.
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