Claude Bouchard Books

It’s time I gave you a tidbit of personal history. Seven years ago, I was living in my lovely condo on the island of Montreal which I had acquired three years earlier following the break-up with my ex. Although I had dated a psychopath off and on during those three years, I was done with her and hoping to meet someone special because life alone gets old rather quickly. The bar scene just wasn’t my thing and hitting on damsels at the supermarket seemed a tad spooky so I decided to give internet dating a go to see what might happen.

I met several ladies, some over coffee or dinner but, most of the time, such meetings remained virtual with contacts being in the form of chats on the Net. One day, I got home from work and logged on to find one such lady with whom I’d been chatting for a couple of months online on Messenger. I learned that she was somewhat bummed out as she was missing out on a party somewhere due to an eye infection which prevented her from driving.

As we chatted, she mentioned that adding to her displeasure was the fact that neighbours around her were out cooking various delicacies on their grills, filling the air with tempting aromas while she prepared vegetarian burritos for her eventual dinner. I suggested I could come over with a couple of steaks, to which she LOLed. However, a few minutes later, she sent me the following message: “Were you serious about the steaks?” I replied, “Yes, I was.”

Shortly after, we were on the phone, agreeing on a time at which I’d come over and her giving me directions on how to get there. I then pulled a couple of filets mignons from the freezer and nuked them a bit to accelerate the thawing while I threw together a marinade. Armed with my marinating meat, I headed off to meet this mystery lady, stopping only to pick up a bottle of Georges Duboeuf Brouilly on the way.

We met, had a lovely dinner and a wonderful evening.

That was on June 23, 2004, seven years ago today, and we’re still going strong.

Happy Anniversary, Joanne. I love you.