"How I Met My Wife"

by Jack Winter/The New Yorker

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very
chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing
alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total
array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a
gainly way.

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about
it since I was traveling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I
could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off
my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving
loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of
behavior would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was
evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as
flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero
were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could
easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent
reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make
heads or tails of.

I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it
nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen.
Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt
capacitated--as if this were something I was great shakes at--and forgot
that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times.
So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way
through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare
a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I
started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion
that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory
character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect
nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation become more and more choate,
and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to
leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my
delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been
together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.
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