I was nineteen. And like the cliche, we saw each other across a crowded room.He claims not to have seen me, but you know when you are spotted. I spotted him as he did me. And it was then I had that sixth sense -- you know, the one I keep talking about. It knaws away at you until you cannot brush it away. I was drawn to him as I stood with my girlfriends, giggling and checking out the decor (code meat market language).
It started out as a trip to Toronto in August 1990, with my father to a cultural event symbolizing Independance Day for Pakistan at the Ontario Science Center. I wasn't interested in going but since the passing of my mother the year before, my father was lonely and wanted my company. I could not turn him down. Friends of mine had called earlier in the day to let me know they would be there too. If I was going to be bored by the festivities, I could at least hang out with the girls.
In the main hall, he stood there with a crowd of his friends, in his tweed jacket and khaki pants. Even though there were other proposals coming, I dismissed them all and told my father to let me continue my studies at University. But my sixth sense made me twitch as I watched him that evening. And then the irony of it all it happened, AGAIN. I saw him two months later at another cultural event. I was with my siblings and he was with the same crowd of friends. Again, he claims to not have seen me. But his father did.
So the hunt was on, for lack of a better word. His father contacted a mutual family friend who knew my father. And the call was made to meet our family. Unbeknowst to me, of course...and the non-traditional romance was about to begin.
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