By David Perloff
I remember the instant I met my wife. She was walking towards me at Rich's Nightclub in Hillcrest, and I thought to myself, "Well, would you look at this guy. He's one of the hottest chicks I've ever seen."
I had been duped before, so it wasn't like I was going to start making out with someone at a gay bar until I could confirm a gender. Not that I instantly start making out with anyone at a bar, just sayin'...
Then he spoke to me, in a woman's voice.
I was in love. Her smile was electric; her body was bangin'. "I want to introduce you to my friend," she said, with an endearing accent I figured was Italian but was actually Brazilian.
WTF? (Actually, "WTF" didn't exist yet, but the F word definitely came into play.) It turned out this dude who turned out to be a chick wasn't interested in me at all. It was her BFF, visiting from Brazil and wanting to kiss a boy before returning home, who had identified me as a potential acquisition.
But I had already fallen for cupid, the bubbly matchmaker from the other hemisphere, who thankfully and generously later permitted me to become her husband. Her friend, still her BFF today, was the maid of honor at our wedding in 2001.
When my father died on February 14, 1993, I was certain my subsequent Valentine's Days would be full of sorrow. But Simone saved me from that future, showering me with the love and attention I definitely need and probably don't deserve.
For her passion, her patience, Simone deserves a trillion pink roses, which are said to represent love and gratitude. Instead, just in time for Valentine's Day, I got pink eye (from our son, Lex). And instead of expecting flowers, she offered to help with my eye drops.
I'd like to devote this Love/Sex/Marriage issue of PacificSD to my beautiful wife, Simone, because she deserves it (and it might help get me laid).
I love you, Bubu!