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I met my wife to be three years ago. It almost didn’t happen.

I had been divorced for about 3 years when I met Pari Livermore. Pari is a wonderful woman who runs the Red & White ball, an annual singles party that she organizes for us generally older singles. She asks those who seek her services to donate money or time to one of a dozen or so charities. I was introduced to Pari by a mutual friend who knew I was looking for a quality woman. Pari doesn’t advertise and you only get accepted by her after a lengthy interview. She sizes you up for what you can afford and extracts it from you. After that you become a “patron” and get invited to about ½ dozen parties a year where about 50 or so singles show up. And once a year she throws the Red and White Ball where 500+ singles show up on formal attire.

I had been to about 3-4 patron parties and met some nice women, but no bell ringers. Also, Pari had fixed me up with about a dozen women who were nice, pretty and smart, but most were a bit too “socialite” for me. I wanted a down to earth woman who was comfortable in her own skin and wasn’t looking to impress anyone.

The 2007 Ball was on a Tuesday night. I had played golf that day and come home tired. I was in no mood to go to the Fairmont in my monkey suit and meet what I was sure were more of the same. I got into some comfortable clothes, turned on the boob tube and settled in for my usual round of news, more news and KQED. One hour of news later and looking forward to more of the same, I got my lazy butt off the couch, jumped in the shower and headed for my destiny.

My wife met Pari in the beauty salon that she works at. Pari was getting her nails done and overheard Laurel saying: ‘Oh I just broke up with my boyfriend. I’m single again, how do I meet somebody?’ Pari said, ‘Excuse me, I’m having a party in three days.’” Then she asked Laurel to be a volunteer and escort the men into the main ballroom. Laurel was more than ready. She wanted a man in her life and the sound of meeting 300 single men in one place was too good to pass up.

I arrived at the Fairmont and went in a side door to the ballroom so I unintentionally bypassed the women greeters. I wasn’t in the room ten minutes when I saw this gorgeous woman in an even more gorgeous dress escort someone in. I approached and complimented her on that dress. She smiled and thanked me. I thought that was the end of that as she looked way too young for me and I really had no interest in dating a much younger woman. I had recently been burned when a woman I had been dating and very interested in learned she was 24 years my junior. Even though she told me she too was very interested and that I was one of a handful of men who could “handle her,” nevertheless said, “I can’t bring a guy home who’s older than my mother.” When I took the dagger out of my heart, I resolved never to go through that again.

So I started to walk away from Laurel when she smiled that engaging smile of hers and my heart sunk. OK, I thought, one drink and then I’m gone. Well, three drinks and a platter of food later, I finally told her to go play with kids her own age (metaphorically, of course). She declined. I literally pleaded with her to go dance with some younger guys, but little did I know, she was ticking off a check list.

The night before the dance, she made a list of about ten characteristics (which she showed me many dates after we met) she wanted in a man. She wasn’t necessarily expecting anyone to meet them all, but wanted some guideline in choosing a mate. According to her, I was hitting on all eight cylinders but there was one final item on her list that she was reluctant to ask about. (I didn’t know I was being interviewed). According to her she was so impressed that it looked like I was the man of her dreams, she blurted out the one trait she was sure I wouldn’t meet. “I don’t suppose you ride horses, do you?”

When I told her I had taken my prior wife and family to 12 dude ranches over the years, she nearly jumped out of her chair. Her face lit up like a Chanukah bush. She was sure she had found her man, but there was one more “test” I had to pass. Dancing. Apparently, her prior husband was not very good and she loved to dance. So, eventually, we ended up on the dance floor and as she tells the story, “It was then I was swept off my feet.” I guess I passed the Fred Astaire test.

As the night wore on, it became increasingly clear, Laurel was my type of woman but I was wary. I didn’t need another blow to my psyche just because of my age. However, it dawned on me that Laurel wasn’t the 35 year old she appeared to be at first sight. Still, I knew there was a significant age gap but decided to postpone telling her (if she hadn’t already figured it out).

She drove me to my car, we kissed goodnight and planned to arrange a future date. She had a ten year old son that she shared custody with her ex. That meant the first time she’d be available was the coming Sunday, five days hence. In the interim, we spoke every night for hours and it became increasingly clear to both of us, that we had chemistry. Sunday came and Laurel walked in my door with toothbrush in hand. “Do you mind if I stay the night?” She hasn’t left since.

And yes, we had a coming to Jesus moment when it became clear I was 20 years her senior. At first, she struggled with it, but finally decided that she had more fun with me than any man in her life previously. As she put it, “I’d rather have ten good years with you than get bored with someone else for thirty.”

We got married last year at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, bought a house in Corte Madera and live together with her son part-time (he spends half the week with his dad). I have never been happier and she claims the same.