Love Story: It turned out their biggest obstacle was just meeting

Michele Harber of Forest Hills talks about meeting her husband, Michael.

Our relationship began in 1994 in typical boy-doesn’t-want-to-meet-girl fashion. In all fairness, the girl didn’t want to meet the boy either, considering we were being pushed together by Rita, a mutual friend of our mothers. I was 34, and Michael was 38.

The first clue Rita wasn’t the matchmaker for me surfaced when she said she knew someone who would be perfect for either my sister or me. Really? My sister’s and my taste in men coincide with wanting someone male and breathing. Michael had his own reason for not pursuing the relationship: He was already engaged.

A few months earlier, I had ended a relationship with a man who after three years suddenly decided he wasn’t the commitment type.

Fast-forward 18 months. For reasons unrelated to me, Michael had called off his engagement. Then a few things happened.

First, my mother received a letter from Rita, who was again extolling Michael’s virtues. Simultaneously, a radio station I listened to was giving away movie tickets for a screening a few blocks from work. I picked up two tickets and immediately did what a lonely woman does in my situation: I offered the second ticket to my sister. Fortunately, she was unavailable. Here I was with an extra movie ticket, no one to go with, and the phone number of a man who had scrupulously avoided calling me much as I’d avoided him.

With nerve I didn’t know I had, I called Michael. When he answered, I said the words every man waits his whole life to hear: "Hi, I’m that woman your mom’s friend’s been trying to set you up with." I told him about the movie tickets, and, after a brief moment of stunned silence, he explained he couldn’t join me that night, but suggested we meet for dinner in Queens, where we lived a half-mile apart. Plans were made for later that week.

We met at UJ’s, a kitschy 50s-style diner. Beside Rita and the irony of the situation, I barely remember what we discussed. What I remember vividly is that we had each other laughing much of the night.

At the end of a lovely evening, he offered to drive me home. After he helped me into the passenger seat, I reached over and unlocked his door. He was pleasantly surprised, and I believe that’s when we both first heard wedding bells. Two days later, he called for a second date, and we’ve been inseparable since. Within two weeks we were openly stating our love and sharing deep, dark secrets that might drive the other away. Neither of us ran off.

Three months after we met, he invited me to his apartment for a home-cooked meal for my birthday. By then I’d been to his apartment several times, a typical bachelor flat where no two kitchen items matched. When I walked in, I saw he had a set a beautiful table with flatware, dinner plates and Champagne flutes — all matching (I’m fairly sure I heard angels sing). After a delicious dinner, we went into the living room. I sat on the couch and, to my surprise, Michael got down on one knee, proposed and slipped a beautiful engagement ring on my finger.

We were married five months later, on July 30, 1995, at the Swan Club in Roslyn Harbor.

Michael had a lifelong teaching career, and I was an executive secretary for a public relations firm. Our daughter Leah was born in 2004.

We celebrated our 25th anniversary last summer. We owe our happiness to Rita, who turned out to know us better than we thought.

— With Ann Donahue-Smukler