you could be Ted Bundy for all I know

By: ewhite422

Jul 24 2010

Category: Uncategorized


I saw my husband for the first time before he saw me.  I was at the post office in Austin, Texas, just a month after my marriage of 24 years ended.  I was an emotional mess, but I did happen to notice a nicely built man walking on crutches in front of me, broad shoulders, trim waist, on his way to buy stamps.

I needed stamps, too, so I thought, “I’ll just walk a little faster, and get to the office before he does, so that I can see what the front of him looks like.” 

He saw me turn around and look at him.  The clerk at the post office window, who had been waiting on me for years, saw us see each other and smiled.

After buying my stamps, I left quickly and headed for my car.  Lo and behold, he was parked beside me.

“Do you like driving that Mercedes?” he asked.  His voice sounded low like the movie star, Sam Elliot’s voice.

I thought to myself, “What kind of opening line is that?  Of course, I do…what woman does not like to drive a Mercedes?”

But I smiled and said, “Yes, I do!  But I will probably have to sell it.  I am now responsible for keeping up the maintenance, and it’s expensive!”

He introduced himself and explained that he was thinking about buying a Mercedes.

He did not get my number.  I did not offer it.  We went our separate ways.

A week later, I ran into him again at the post office.  This time he was not on crutches.  

“So,” he began, “If I were interested in buying your car, how could I get in touch with you?”

I gave him my business card.  And a couple of days later I received a nice greeting card at work.  I was surprised to discover it was from him.  His message read, “I AM interested in your car, but…I hope you don’t think this is too forward…I would really like to ask you out.  I’ll call in a few days and see what you think.”

He called that evening.

“I want you to know that I am flattered,” I said.  “I noticed you first, so there was some mutual attraction.  The problem is that my marriage just ended, and I am a mess!” I explained.  “I really cannot go out with you.”

“That’s okay.  I’ve been there,” he said.  “I’ll be in Venezuela for a couple of months, and I’ll call you when I get back and see how you’re doing.”

“Okay.” I wondered if he would really call 2 months later, doubting I would be ready to see him even if he did.

During those 2 months, I got a couple of friendly greeting cards in the mail from him.  Just nice notes, saying something like, “It will get better.  Hang in there.  Talk to you soon!”

When he called in November, I still was not ready.

So, finally, in March, he called again, and I agreed to meet him for dinner.  I picked an expensive restaurant next to The Four Seasons in Austin.  Might as well let him know my standards!

We had a delightful conversation, and I agreed to meet him again for dinner later in the week.  When that went well, too, I decided to put him to the test by inviting him to church AND Sunday School at the Presbyterian church I attended.  I thought this might get rid of him.

But he accepted.

After church he asked if I would like to go to the Austin Wine and Food Festival.

I said I had always wanted to go to that event.

“Well, are you going to let me take you in my car?  It’s about 40 miles away, you know.”  he inquired.

I thought for a minute, “Well, you could be Ted Bundy for all I know!”

I continued, “They say he was nice looking and charming.  And you are both of those!  But I don’t know you in any context!  I met you at the post office!”

He smiled, “Do you want my driver’s license?”

“Yes, I think I do!”  I responded, thinking this guy had a lot of patience.

He agreed to pick me up a couple of hours later, and when I answered the knock on the door, he handed me 2 Xerox copies, explaining 1 was for me and the other was for my mother.  I smiled.

He had copied his driver’s license, his Dresser Industries ID card with his picture and his employee number,  his Sam’s Club card, and his Randall’s Remarkable card (grocery store loyalty).

Very clever!

I teased, “You forgot the credit card!”

“I may be trying hard to win you,” he said, “But I’m NOT stupid!”

We married 4 1/2 years later and after the ceremony, the limo took us to that post office, where we shared a champagne toast to that first meeting.


4 comments on “you could be Ted Bundy for all I know”

  1. Great story Elaine. Did he become a Presbyterian? After all he said he wasn’t stupid!!


  2. E-laine–Southern BAPTIST to Presbyterian to Episcopal to ? Intewesting (sp!). Seems to be a LOT of coincidences to make it all work “precare”eously, yes? What if he did not have broad shoulders, thin waist, or tag your “nurturing button” with those crutches? What if he had a high-pitched voice like Don Knotts instead of deep, endearing western countrified Sam Elliot’s voice and demeanor? What if you were not driving a Mercedes, but a rustly beat-up Volkswagen? What if you were over your divorce and past the vulnerable, “leave-me-alone” stage? What if you had said “yes” pronto instead of waiting months for the “significant” written communication you both subscribed to? What if you had not been spoiled to expensive restaurants and met at McDonald’s or Dairy Queen? Take alll that away, strip it down, and what is the real crux of the matter, the bottomline? The attraction seems to have been nearly instantaneous, but was much improved with some “brewing”maybe a lot of brewing through time, thinking, and communication? Change even ONE of the above factors and you may have a different result. Change or eliminate all these factors and perhaps you arrive at the reason for your successful relationship! A Devining Rod comes to mind. You know Who was doing the Divining! Very interesting story, E-laine!

    • Yes, I believe that, and so does he. It’s funny, we were dancing at The Broken Spoke on our honeymoon and the band played “You Send Me,” by Sam Cooke. We immediately made that “our song,” since we met at the post office. Now, whenever we visit our favorite piano bar, they play that song almost immediately after we walk in. I like our story.

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