Don’t go to law school to meet your husband. I did and failed miserably.

{—And I’m sorry if that’s not progressive enough for you, but it was 1993, and I was hell-bent on NOT ending up as a spinster.}

You see, I never wanted to be a lawyer.
My dad was a lawyer.
He hated it.
I wanted to be a high-school teacher.
Like my mom.

But more than anything, I wanted to meet my husband. I wanted to meet my husband and get married and have a big house with a white picket fence and multiple children and maybe even a dog or a gerbil.

So I went to law school to meet my husband, and I had it all planned out:

We would meet at BC;
we’d fall madly in love;
we’d live in Boston;
I’d be a teacher;
he’d be a lawyer;
and we would be so happy.

I had it all planned out.

Now luckily, I did happen to fall in love with studying the law during law school; that happened right away; and I did decide that being a lawyer might not be so bad. 🙂

But on the husband front?

Let’s just say that by the time the spring of my 3L rolled around, it had become very clear that I’d picked the very WRONG place to meet Mr. Right.

My law-school graduation came and went;
I was still 100% single;
I was petrified of being alone;
I spent a lot of time deep soul searching.

And then, somehow, I marshalled the courage to set out by myself for life as a “career woman.”

{—That was what we called women who didn’t marry but had good careers back then; it was a step up from “spinster.”}

I moved from Boston to NY.
I bought my own apartment.
I even bought my own china.

“I’ll be the very best ‘career woman’ I can be,” I told myself.

I had it all planned out.

And it was with this new attitude that I started on my very first day as a first-year associate at a very big law firm in NYC.

It also was on this very first day that I attended Westlaw training in the basement of this very big law firm.

And it was on this very first day that I happened to notice this very handsome boy just there in front of me.

And so I talked to him.
And he talked to me.

And the rest, my friends, . . .

. . . is all history.

Today is 28 years.

Happy anniversary, my love.

On this day back in 1998, I felt like the luckiest “career woman” alive.

Today, I still think that.

♥️ Amanda

P.S. The best things always seem to happen after we “have it all planned out.”

What’s your how-we-first-met story?