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HOW
WE MET~ JENNA'S VERSION
I met Grant for the
first time during my spring semester of my junior
year in 2000. We were both attending NC State’s
School of Design, and for the first time, our studios
were next door to each other. While working one afternoon
on Chester (my character development project), Grant
entered my studio with an air and walked right over
to my desk with no hesitation. He proceeded to effortlessly
introduce himself, comment on my beauty and kept a
conversation all while moving in closer. A few visits
later, Grant settled in at my desk, and asked me out
while showing no sign of casualty. I have to admit,
Grant’s confidence and directness threw me…I
didn’t know whether to blow him off and label
him as psychotic or take it as ‘a breathe of
fresh air’, give in to those beautiful blue
eyes and accept this interesting invitation. As you
can guess, I choose the latter. |
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We dined at a small Italian
bistro in Cary, feasted on tortellini and red wine
and had a very interesting five hour conversation*.
In fact, we were so wrapped up in discovering each
other the restaurant had to ask us to leave so they
could turn out the lights. He had treated me with
a pure heart and followed the rules of a gentleman
when I returned home.
The best part, and perhaps the most ironic, was that
neither or us desired to have a serious relationship,
we only wanted to go out and enjoy the others’
company when time was available. So, for the first
five months we kept the relationship fun and saw other
people. Over that time it was increasingly apparent
to me that no one was as intriguing or handsome as
Grant Bailey. I ended up going over to his apartment
unannounced one night on a whim to confess my feelings.
Fortunately he embraced the idea and we have not looked
back, only forward…I am grateful to have him
in my life and I cannot wait to join him in matromy
on our fifth year anniversary.
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* Grant
and I truly are opposites. For the first several months
of our relationship, we had a hard time understanding each
other. I spoke/speak in what Grant deems as ‘short
hand’ or cultural phrases, relying more on my facial
expressions and body language to communicate a full thought.
Grant spoke/speaks in an authoritative monotone voice while
using technical names and detailed descriptions to communicate
his thoughts. (Just look at his version) For example:
| Jenna’s Word Choice |
Grant’s Word Choice |
| Mustard |
Mrs. Garth’s Peppercorn Spicy Mustard Seed Surprise |
| Beautiful Sunset |
The Crimson and Magenta in the clouds is quite pronounced
in comparison to the Carolina blue sky…it stages
a lovely rainbow for the fiery orange sun setting in
the distance |
| Red Car |
1987 Honda CRX Si Hatchback with the 4 hole alloys,
custom pistons, an 020 overbore, Integra brakes, suspension,
More letters and numbers |
| Nice Car |
2002 Ferrari 360 Modena Challenge
Stradale with more letters and numbers |
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HOW
WE MET~ GRANT'S VERSION
Jenna and I were both in
design school when we met. I remember during those
long days and nights in studio occasionally spotting
a lean, leggy rag doll coming and going. She would
wear baggy corduroys and a toboggan over long yellow
locks. There would invariably be a backpack in tow,
and the numerous hanging straps would wave at me as
she strolled. I can still remember the first glance
I took at her. She had dusty blue eyes and pouty lips
of pale pink that had at least the hint of a mischievous
curl at the edge. Her skin was fair, her look back
at me both suspicious and noncommittal. Needless to
say, I was intrigued. In time, I came to know that
her studio was directly adjacent to my own and that
her name was Jenna. |
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It became one of my favorite diversions from work
to stop in and try to charm her away from productivity.
These attempts met with mixed results. She was clearly
skeptical. But she had a wide, brilliant smile and
seemed glad for the company, so I elected to be persistent.
I gauged my moment carefully and when I dared, I casually
massaged the top of her tensely hunched shoulders.
This maneuver, repeated on a few subsequent occasions
proved to greatly increase both her regard of my presence
and the effectiveness of my flirtation. About a week
after I started this tactic, I was feeling a little
bolder. All the same, I must have walked to the door
of my studio and back half a dozen times before I
finally quelled the jitters, went next door and asked
her to get some dinner with me. Thankfully, she accepted.
When Jenna showed up at my apartment, we were dressed
completely unalike. I had on slacks, a sweater vest
and a tie, she was in shiny silver pants and a slinky
top. I thought she looked great and told her so, but
immediately felt out of place. That didn't last, fortunately,
because she was quick to return the compliment. Once
we got to dinner, we discovered that we didn’t
use any of the same manners of speech, gestures, or
even words. We did a lot of rewording, repeating and
translating but also had a great time - we were finally
thrown out by the waitstaff because the restaurant
had been closed for so long! All the same, Jenna remained
wary. I didn't push my luck with her, I respected
that she took getting acquainted seriously; I was
trying to play it cool myself. We had both made it
clear that we weren't looking for a relationship and
we continued to see other people all that first summer.
We dated only occasionally for a few months, but every
time we knew how to talk to each other better and
she was just such a fireball - it was increasingly
difficult to keep things casual, but I stuck to my
Mr. Coolguy act. Then, one night I was getting ready
for bed and I heard a knock on my door. When I opened
it I found Jenna standing there in the dark. Our eyes
met and I could see that she had come with her heart
on her sleeve. She had me with that look, but Jenna
went on to tell me how she felt. I stood there with
my heart pounding and my face hot and I knew it was
the beginning of something great. We have been together
ever since.
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THE
ENGAGEMENT
I think every man must
have an epiphany that shows them that they are really
with the right woman to marry. I realized that when
I think about the joys in my life, they are things
that Jenna does for me, things that Jenna and I do
together, even the things I do myself I enjoy by sharing
them with Jenna. Not only did this realization pull
the veil of bachelorhood from my eyes, it made me
see that I would probably be dead or on the street
inside 6 months if we were ever apart. I had to marry
this woman.
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My
original engagement plan involved me learning to use
and then creating a masterpiece in a massive and complex
software program that I had questionably legal access
to, which would then be sent to England and machined
into a wax master by a business associate, a wax master
that in turn would be air mailed to a platinum casting
operation in Canada, picked up by a friend that lived
in Toronto, hand carried across the border and then
shipped by insured post to someone I know that does
stone setting and jewelry repair, who would receive
a stone I had sourced from a former professor of mine
that gets them in New York, at which point the jewelry
repair lady could do the setting and final finishing
of the casting so that I could then pick it up. Folks,
I wish I were making this up. As the first step of
my plan grew longer and longer in duration before
it reached its beginning, I came to see that it was
very possible that I could not have both my plan and
my youth- more drastic action was required.
I contacted Mary Ann
and Sydney Scherr, mother and daughter, renowned goldsmiths
and my professors from when I was studying jewelry
in school. I spent an evening dodging Sydney’s
parrot, sipping tea and explaining to them Jenna’s
philosophy on life, love and precious metals. Mary
Ann and Syd decided that the job was best for Syd
to do because her aesthetic sense better matched Jenna’s
own. After the recollection of some truly hideous
outfits that I have bought Jenna over the years, I
realized that my own aesthetic sense was probably
not in line with hers.
After much deliberation
I sat her down one night and explained that I wanted
her to be involved in the design of her engagement
ring. Jenna was all hugs and tears and I knew I had
made the right decision. The next morning we met Syd
and looked at some sketches. Jenna liked where she
was going, made a few choices on structure that I
backed wholeheartedly and then I did my best to keep
Jenna in the dark from there on out. I picked the
ring up about 7 weeks later and stashed it in my garage.
It was the night before
our 4th anniversary, and Jenna and I were sitting
on the couch, enjoying a Saturday nightcap and reflecting
on recent events. She had just bought a car and I
had ordered a spoiler for it. I had received the spoiler
that day from UPS, but had no idea if it would match
or not. It was just past midnight, but Jenna hadn’t
noticed. I started proposing that I should go check
the color of the spoiler and let her know if it was
going to work on her car. She thought I was crazy
but gave me the walkie-talkies we use to talk to each
other when I’m working on my car and went down
to the garage. I got the ring out of it’s hiding
place, breathed on it a few times and then closed
the garage door. I picked up the walkie-talkie and
started to excitedly demand that she come look at
the spoiler because it was a perfect match (totally
the wrong color). After some reluctance, she made
her way down and banged on the door. With my heart
in my throat I pressed the remote and put my knee
on the concrete. There she was – still wearing
her raquetball clothes, hair in a scrunchy on top
of her head, eyes bleary from a long day and a few
drinks. She was beautiful. I clumsily pushed the ring
at her and managed to form some words. “Jenna
Washburn, will you marry me?” “What? Are
you serious?” “Yes, doesn’t it look
like it? Jenna, will you marry me?” She blinked
slowly, chuckling but the dawn of realization creeping
over her. “Well YES Grant, of course I will!”
I put the ring on her finger and my arms around her.
We stood there, hugging in the shadow of the garage
for a long time. Eventually we wandered around the
neighborhood, holding hands and taking in the steamy
night air, watching the glowing fog around the streetlights
and the city moving on around us, reflecting on good
times past and those to come.
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