“Lee, Lee!” said a female voice behind me one Sunday afternoon as I was leaving church.  The beautiful man in the navy suit that I had spotted in the sanctuary last week was walking just ahead of me.  At the sound of his own name, he turned around. Now I knew his name was Lee. He looked past me to the small crowd behind and right at the owner of that voice, gave a wave, and continued to walk to the parking lot—arm in arm with two other women. All I could do was stare and covet the esteemed position of each female who walked with him.  What woman wouldn’t want to be on his arm, I thought almost out loud. I walked on to the parking lot alone but at least glad I knew the name of this handsome stranger who caused me to miss a good chunk of the pastor’s message a week ago.

A short time later, as I continued to keep the image of Lee in my mind, my dear friend Polly called me at home one evening.  Polly was from Arkansas and had a brilliant gift of putting like-minded people together. She was high energy, petite, attractive, and pleasingly southern.  Everyone loved Polly, and I was blessed to call her my friend. As I sat on the side of my bed, Polly and I chatted about how our work was going and what was happening in our lives since the last time we had seen each other.   Then she got to her point.  

There was a man from church that she thought I should meet.  She said he was from Tennessee and only in Dallas for a short while longer.  At first, I had no interest in meeting a “church man.” Most of the men I had seen at church didn’t inspire me, and I was more than reluctant to meet her new friend despite Polly’s sense of urgency that he was heading out of town.   When I asked her to describe him, she said she thought we would be a good match because we were both tall. A tall, boring, unappealing guy from church did not interest me. Yes, I had prayed all my life that God would bring me a tall man—one I could wear spike high heels with.  Yes, I wanted a Christian man, but I wasn’t moved by Polly’s description thus far. However, before the conversation was over, I would bolt upright from my bed and long for the chance to meet Polly’s new friend.

There on the phone and in the next sentence, Polly described her friend as having silver hair, a neat dresser, always with shined shoes and impeccably clean nails, respectful and mannerly.  She said there was just something about him that made her think of me and that we definitely needed to meet each other. Then she said, “Women are always surrounding him.”  

“What did you just say?” I asked as I jumped up from the bed with the phone in my hand.  She repeated her statement about the women and then said his name is “Lee.” Now I knew she was talking about the handsome stranger.   “When can you arrange it?” I asked.

I couldn’t sleep that night for anticipating meeting this man from Tennessee who was leaving Dallas shortly.  But it would be weeks of little let-downs and disappointments before he ever looked my way. The thing is, frankly, he never did look my way.  Despite always looking my best whenever and wherever I thought he may appear, he didn’t show any interest. I found out later exactly why. I wasn’t his type. 

The women who circled him were blonds with thick, lush locks of hair, busty, and bold.  I had short dark hair, wore business suits to church, and was rather reserved socially. I saved my boldness for George, my nemesis at work. I just wasn’t Lee’s type, and he proved it on several occasions.

There was the time he was with one of his closest Dallas friends, Gene. I happened to be in the lobby of the church at the same time he and Gene were standing there talking.  Someone stopped me to engage in a brief conversation. Out of the corner of my eye and as my friend chatted on, I watched as Gene pointed to me as if to say “look at that one.”  Next I watched as Lee turned his head and looked at me. I also watched as he turned back around with not even a remote second glance my way.  

Then there was the time Polly invited me to a singles event from church.  I was busy with other commitments and declined her invitation, despite her encouragement that Lee was also invited.   I thought to myself, “He has so many women, he’ll never show up.” Not only did he show up, Polly had arranged a seat for me right beside him.  The seat remained empty all evening long.

Once again, in the lobby of the church, while I was volunteering behind the visitor’s registration desk, a friend who knew of my attraction nudged me and pointed with her head in the direction of the entrance door.  There he was, making his way through the crowd, right by my station at the desk, on his way to the auditorium. As he weaved and dodged his way through the crowd, standing head and shoulders above almost everyone, I was struck by his elegance, his squared shoulders and long strides, his impeccable image.  Oh, my gosh. I was swept away with this guy.

But to add disappointment to disappointment, as he walked by, he glanced my way and went on without even a brief pause of anything encouraging. Time was running out as this guy was heading back to Tennessee any week now, and I simply couldn’t get his attention.   I was feeling hopeless, but Polly had a plan.

“Have a party for the singles at church and invite him,” she said to me a week or so later.  At first, I protested. “I can’t even cook,” I told her. “Make chili. Everyone knows how to make chili,” she replied.  I didn’t but dug through some old cookbooks and found a decent recipe along with a recipe for a California salad which I had made a time or two. With that and a few phone calls, a party was in the making.  Polly called Jim, one of Lee’s good friends, and invited them both on my behalf. Jim replied that they would be coming. I phoned a few good friends who also said yes, and the party planning went into full swing.  I was filled with anticipation. That is, until the Wednesday night before the Saturday-night party when Jim called to ask directions. “Yes, I’m coming. Please tell me how to get there,” he said.

I gave him directions and we chatted a little longer.  Finally, I asked, “Is your friend Lee coming?” “No,” Jim replied.  “Just me. Lee is tied up in women problems.” Women problems? What kind of women problems?  I wanted to scream. Jim went on to explain that one of the women Lee was dating had gotten upset because she hadn’t seen much of him.  So Lee was going on a date with her on Saturday night instead of coming to the party. Jim’s candor was much appreciated as he told me it wasn’t a woman he even cared that much about but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.  I liked the part that he was sensitive to her feelings. But what to do about it in terms of the crazy party. Quickly, I blurted out to Jim the only thing I could think of. “Tell him to bring her.” Jim agreed to tell him.  

As soon as I got off the phone, that familiar hopeless feeling regarding this guy settled in again.  I called Polly and told her the messy truth. “Here I am hosting a party just to meet a man and the man has decided to go out with another woman and not even attend,” I lamented.  Polly said, “There’s only one thing you can do. Call him.” “No,” I protested indignantly, “I don’t call guys.” “Are you in high school?” Polly responded. “Call him.” She gave me his number and I nervously dialed the landline phone.  “Oh, there’s an omen,” I told myself when the line was busy. I called Polly back and told her his line was busy and that I considered it a sign. “You’re being silly,” was all Polly said and to call him back later.

I paced nervously around my bedroom, dreading making that phone call again now that I had lost my nerve.  Not that I ever had it. I just knew he was going to be polite but reject me just like he had all those other times I saw him.  What was I doing anyhow? He had shown zero interest in me. Self-doubts abounded, but that urgency of his going back to Tennessee loomed large.  After about 20 minutes, I called again. This time, he answered.

Wow, he sounded cheerful when he answered the phone.  I told him who I was and he replied in a friendly and very southern manner, “Well, how are you, Bonnie?”  That was about 10 pm. At 1 am, we hung up the phone. Neither of us wanted to end the conversation, and so we talked on and on.  If he told me once he told me five times how interesting he found our conversation. I asked him if he had ever seen me at church and he replied that he couldn’t recall but would likely recognize me when we met.  We agreed to meet each other before the party. In fact, he suggested the next night after he got off work at the men’s store where he was working a second job to earn Christmas money. He said he would call me when he was closing out to let me know he would be on his way.

The next night, late in the evening and still in my light gray business suit, I prayed for a phone call.  I watched television and paced nervously as the evening got later and later. I started to doubt he would call.  When Johnny Carson came on at 11:30, I felt dejected and hurt. “Just let him go on back to Tennessee,” I told myself.  “You don’t need him anyway.”

Half-way through Johnny’s monologue, my phone rang.  It was him, there was an issue with a sales exchange, and, if it wasn’t too late, he was on his way.  I thought I was nervous before. My heart began pounding as I rushed to the bathroom to touch up my makeup.  I lit the fireplace in the living room and stirred the hot cocoa on the stove, a little thick by now, before going to the window in the guest bedroom to watch for the first sight of him.  He went a little past the house, backed up, and parked along the curb. It was obviously dark outside but I was convinced he was driving a Mercedes. “Good looking and rich,” I told myself as I answered the door.

Tall.  Very tall up close.  Breathtakingly handsome.  Big blue eyes. Stylish silver hair.  Intimidating. And a little too honest.  “No, I’ve never seen you before,” he candidly offered to the question we both had on our minds.  I just knew it! I had never gotten on his radar. Well, he was here now and as far as I was concerned, the night was young.  Time for hot chocolate and some good conversation. We sat on opposite ends of my white silk couch I couldn’t afford and enjoyed the fire.  By this time, the hot cocoa was syrupy from sitting so long on the stove. If he minded, he never said. The talking was as easy as the night before, and, by now, we felt we knew each other.  His manner was gentle. And, oh, so southern. Johnny, my father who left us when I was a tiny girl, was very southern and handsome. I had heard all the stories of his southern charm. Because of that, I was always drawn to the South.  After a while, he put his arm up over the back of the couch. That one simple gesture seemed to draw him closer to me emotionally. I relaxed even more. And when this southern gentleman called me “Darlin,” I fell in love. Right there on the couch.  Oh, he just couldn’t go back to Tennessee. Not without me.

After he left, I felt as if I were in a dream.  Finally, I was on the radar of this handsome man I’d been tracking, not stalking, for the past several months.  As I was preparing for bed, it suddenly dawned on me. “Oh, shoot!” I had a party to give in a couple days. And I had invited “her.”  But, not to worry, he came alone with no mention of her, the chili was really good, and my one-and-only standby salad was a big hit. A friend brought her guitar and entertained my guests while they sat mostly on the floor.  Lee was on the floor straight across from me on the other side of the living room. His long, lean legs stretched out in front of him, he seemed intrigued by my guitar-picking girlfriend with her thick long hair tied in a bandana looking all Bohemian and gorgeous.  She seemed to be flirting with him and, at first, I thought I had something to worry about. But then he caught my eye, winked, and smiled. Somehow I knew it was going to be all right. I needn’t have worried. Since the night we spoke on the phone, he was in.  

The next few months flew by quickly as Lee and I got to know each other.  It didn’t take long for me to grasp the character of this good man so comfortable in his own skin.  Our dates were simple as we were both on budgets, but our talking was deep. After a four-month courtship, he asked me to marry him. Our wedding was held in our pastor’s office with Polly and a few close friends.   Lee picked out my wedding dress from Victor Costa Designs. We got it ridiculously on sale. And my prayers were answered when I stood beside him in 5-inch spike heels. God gave me the tall man I longed for. Anna, my lovely boss at Xerox, held a simple but elegant wedding reception for us in her North Dallas home, and many guests from work and church attended.  We had a short honeymoon before returning to both our jobs and our new home together there on Smoke Glass Trail.  

As soon as we pulled into the garage from our brief stay at the Marriott, Lee went right to work mowing the grass.  As I watched out the window as he pushed the mower, I felt grateful to have the love and support of a man who would now share and participate in life’s journey.  I was 35 and single just a few days before. And while my life was full with a wonderful career, family, and friends, I was ready to share my life with someone special.  Now as I looked out the window at the pleasing sight of my handsome husband taking care of our grass, I was still 35 but happily married to the man of my dreams.  

Work continued for both of us as before.  Lee went to his sales promotions job and I went to Xerox manufacturing every day the same as we always had.  I can’t say I suddenly loved my work, but I had my husband to look forward to at the end of each day. Something was in the wind and before too long, Lee and I were on our way to San Antonio, Texas, for a new company and a promotion.  A former Xerox executive heard about me from a friend and invited me to interview in a company he had just joined. The job represented a two-step promotion and a junior executive title. Lee was all for it and was my biggest champion. He had a selfless attitude and always said, “Honey, I can sell anywhere.  But you are on a great career track and we must follow that as opportunities get placed in front of us.”  

Little did he know that wonderful regard for my career would take us from Dallas to San Antonio to Florida to California to Northern Virginia to Kentucky until finally retiring in his beloved Tennessee.  It has been a remarkable journey and partnership. He is my most cherished mentor and has given me great wisdom throughout our walk together. Somewhere along the way, I became his type. As for the Mercedes, well, it was an older Pontiac which we fondly named “Old Gray,” and she served us well for years.

The decision to leave Xerox was bittersweet.  I loved all my roles with Xerox except the final one.  And that was all about me with me. I could have changed my attitude and continued to learn as I always had.  But I resisted reality and wouldn’t participate in an experience that could have made me better. On the other hand, perhaps that scenario set up my courage to leave.  This was the company I grew up in professionally, where I cut my teeth in marketing and sales, where they poured into me leadership principles I hold dear today, and where I was transformed from a silly girl dressing for men to a businesswoman holding her own and commanding audiences across the nation.  Of all the companies I would move into as my career progressed, no other holds such a special place in my heart as Xerox. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve admired the companies I’ve worked for. They have tested my mettle and upped my grit quotient to handle tough situations. In turn, these companies have contributed to my girlhood dream of making something of myself.  But Xerox was the first step into that dream.

Join me next time as my new husband and I move to San Antonio from Dallas and join a smaller company in a big job that would lead to worldwide responsibilities.  Here we meet a risk arbitrageur from Wall Street who aggressively moved into a takeover position which, oddly, afforded even richer experiences. I share the indelible memory of a Mont Blanc ink pen and lives affected by the stroke of it.  Lee picks out our first home together, and he proves to have an amazing eye for real estate. Sadly for us but better for him, my sweet Doberman Frank goes to his forever home on a farm where he is loved and free to play to his heart’s content in open fields.  

Farewell, Xerox.  You taught me well and you will always be part of me.