- Marissa and Derek in Chicago’s Millennium Park on one of our first dates.
By Derek.
I moved to Chicago in late December 2010. I still had dishes in boxes and packing peanuts stuck to my apartment walls when Marissa and I first met in-person. We arranged to meet on January 2, 2011 at the Chicago Cultural Center on Michigan Avenue and Randolph. I arrived early and anxiously chatted with the docent. “I’m meeting this girl for the first time today,” I told the docent. “Just between you and me, I’m really nervous.” The docent smiled. “Oh, good luck to you then,” she said. “Be sure to see the Tiffany Dome upstairs.” I turned around, and Marissa was walking right up to me. She shook my hand (surprisingly firmly) and introduced herself: “I’m Marissa.” She was shorter than I imagined (a petite 5’0″ — though she’ll swear up-and-down that she’s 5’2″). She was carrying a gigantic bag full of study materials and wearing a knit cap adorned with a jaunty knit flower. She had our date all planned out — she turned toward a pop-up modern art installation, our first stop, and I immediately followed. The docent gave me a thumbs-up. I was hopeful, confused, more than a little euphoric. I was in love.
We visited the Tiffany Dome (at least we thought so — turns out we visited another lovely dome instead). We stretched out on our backs on the Cultural Center floor for the best views of the ceiling. The deep blue-colored stained glass was our favorite. Now it’s our wedding color. After the Cultural Center, we stopped by Starbucks for hot chocolate. We chatted for a couple of hours, which passed in a flash. As I was the new guy in town, Marissa promised a quick tour of the Magnificent Mile. But the bitter Chicago wind quickly defeated my Washington, D.C. winter coat, and we ducked into the Purple Pig restaurant on Michigan Avenue to escape the cold. We enjoyed dinner together, wedged between other couples in the tiny, bistro-style restaurant. We laughed easily at each others’ stories and fought playfully over the pigs’ feet and deep-fried kale.
As we braved the cold again after dinner, it was time to say goodbye. The bus stop offered little relief from the blustery wind, and my toes froze as we waited. But I hoped the bus would take its time. I looked at Marissa — toasty in her Chicago coat — and I took one step closer to be by her side. Standing there next to each other, we swayed gently right and left. A subtle dance to the tune of an unseen Musician, whose music moves all things.
And that’s how we met.
Derek and Marissa 