"Minutes later the revolving front door turned again. A dark-haired man in a white shirt entered. I watched the waiter lead him in my direction, into my room, into my corner, into the old woman's still-warm seat, eyeing me all the while, making clear to me, at least, the main course he was serving.
I was afraid I knew who this man was. I was afraid I knew who had come to have dinner beside me. I was afraid I knew, but for once I wasn't afraid.
He was my future husband, of that I was scarily certain, although I knew nothing more about him than that. To know nearly nothing of him, and to expect nothing, for the long life of our marriage.
When we think we know someone, you see, we are already halfway to disappointment, and no one needs a head start on that.
This is not how we have learned to choose our partners, is it? This is not how we greet people, is it? With an open mind? With an eager hand? Like an unopened gift? Not when we make a life's work out of finding and keeping the perfect mate, the ideal match for our economic aspirations, political views, religious preferences, height, weight, taste in coffee, and wardrobe sensibility - all the ways we foolishly see in another mere validation for ourselves. When we believe we know what's good for us, what's right, and what we're looking for - and believe me, we all do - we condemn all our current relationships and doom the ones to come."
-one of my favorite excerpts from Karen Maezen Miller's Hand Wash Cold: Care Instructions for an Ordinary Life
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