Jay and I made plans to go to a Thai restaurant a few blocks from my apartment. A school night. Less pressure.
He was already seated when I arrived.
“Hi!” I said enthusiastically and shook his hand while he stayed glued to his chair.
“I’d stand up,” he said, “but I ripped my pants getting out of the cab.” I loved his honesty. And he was even more handsome than I remembered, wearing a sharp suit with a neatly folded white handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket.
Jay ordered a Thai beer and told me about growing up in Manhasset on Long Island in a big Irish Catholic family; he was the oldest boy in a brood of seven. He’d gone to college at Washington and Lee, where he played football and lacrosse, which allowed us to compare notes on going to school in Virginia. Then things took a fascinating turn. He told me about joining the navy and flying jets in Pensacola, working on a dude ranch, modeling, acting, going to law school at Georgetown…Jay was so smart, a polymath, an adventurer. After dinner, as I rode the elevator to my apartment on the ninth floor, I thought a thought I hadn’t thought in a while: This has potential.
But Mark Levinstein wasn’t so sure. As he later told me, Jay always dated the same type: tall, thin, blond, with a father who had a big job at some embassy.
Katie isn’t anything like them, he thought. It won’t last.
OUR NEXT DATE was lunch at Bread and Chocolate, a restaurant on Connecticut Avenue. Over ham and cheese on baguettes, Jay explained the history of the conflict in Northern Ireland. I was enthralled. （Or at least I acted like it.） Then we took a big step: The following Saturday we spent the whole day together, in Pennsylvania Dutch country. We ate shoofly pie and bought preserves at a farm stand. Everything felt new and tasted delicious, and the grass was Easter-basket green. Jay had picked me up in his brand-new maroon Jeep Cherokee—he was so proud of it. I’d put my coffee cup on the floor of the passenger seat and promptly kicked it over. He pretended not to mind.
We went to Williams & Connolly parties and softball games and had dinners out in Georgetown. One time when Jay came to pick me up, I looked out the window and saw him standing by the car—and noticed his hair looked a bit thin on top.
Later I asked innocently, “Do you think you’ll be bald when you’re older?”
“I don’t know,” Jay replied. “Do you think you’ll be fat and ugly?”
Touché.
About a month into our relationship, a serious test: Jay was my date at a college friend’s wedding. When he brought me out on the dance floor, I was, well, floored. The guy could dance! The way he held me, guiding our every move, spinning me effortlessly…finally, I didn’t have to lead.
14
I Can Do This
JUST BEFORE CHRISTMAS, NEARLY a year after we met, Jay and I went to a party in Arlington at my friend Betsy’s house. A whole cadre of childhood buddies were there—it was great seeing them and reconnecting with my fun, handsome boyfriend in tow.
At some point, Jay asked me to make sure my parents were home. Then he dashed out of the party, saying he’d be back soon. Hmmm…
As I’d later learn, gallant Jay wanted to ask them for my hand in marriage.
My father’s reaction: “We would be delighted!”
My mother’s reaction: “That would be swell!”
They broke out the scotch and continued the conversation. My dad confessed I did have a flaw—“Sometimes she can be a pouter,” he said, quickly adding that was my only flaw. My mom, who’d stared suspiciously at Jay’s striped socks the first time I brought him home, had since been won over and was pleased as punch.
Back at the party, Jay said he needed to talk to me and took me into an empty room at Betsy’s. Suddenly he pulled out that heart-stopping object—a small black velvet box. He didn’t get down on one knee, but he did snap it open and say, “Will you marry me?”
I was completely and utterly thrilled, although not all that surprised （you didn’t have to be Inspector Clouseau to know that something was up）。 Jay looked like he might burst from excitement as I slipped the beautiful, one-carat-diamond ring on my finger.
I had finally found my Ted. The yin to my yang. Jay could be serious and a tad standoffish, making it even more special that he was so affectionate toward me. I, on the other hand, always seemed to be running for class president. I made Shirley Temple seem like an introvert. Jay often told people, “Katie was born on a sunny day.” Somehow, it just worked.
We rejoined the party and shared our news. Cheers, hugs, and toasts. As the last of my friends to get married, I was happy to be joining the club. Now I had the next six months to focus on work, plan a wedding, and have plenty of premarital sex.