Happy anniversary...

On January 11, 1997, Sheryl and I got married.

In Las Vegas.

And no, not by an Elvis impersonator. It was in a small chapel. Within Treasure Island. It was surprisingly tasteful. Well, perhaps except for the beginning of our wedding video where pirates are storming a ship, firing cannons, buckling their swashes and saying, "Aaaaarrrrgh!"

Once again, I digress.

That makes today our anniversary.

We've been together for a while; first of all living in two houses and then downsizing to one - and no, not the better house, but rather the better neighbourhood.

Our paths first crossed in 1991. My marketing and advertising company moved into the top floor (fifth) of an old brewery in Toronto's historic Corktown District. Great space; exposed brick walls, original beams - even today, there is still a "wow" factor attached to the space. Sheryl's company, a design firm, was located on the ground floor.

Back then my company did not have its own graphics studio. Shortly after moving in, I decided to check out this design firm since we had an urgent need for a newspaper advertisement to be built and they were a great deal more convenient than our present supplier.

I walked through the door. Seated at art tables or desks were six people. Three women. Maeve. Lenore. And Sheryl. I was “drawn” to Sheryl. Introductions were made and my project was reviewed. Hours later, proofs were approved and the ad made its way to the Toronto Star for insertion.

Every one in the company was very pleasant - especially the three women. All were smart and, of course, very attractive. Maeve and Lenore were a bit younger than me. But there was "something" between Sheryl and me - except, neither one of us really new it.

Within a few days, I called Sheryl and asked if she would like to go to dinner. The last time I had heard this much hemming, hawing and stuttering was listening to Mel Tillis being interviewed. Talk about painful. Finally I said, "Look... we both have to eat. Do you like Thai? What about tomorrow evening at 7.30pm?" I had not been used to this type of treatment from a woman. "OK, tomorrow at 7.30 it is."

In the weeks that followed, we went out several times. For reasons that frankly escape me now, we did not let on to anyone what we were doing. Especially her co-workers. That led to an almost embarrassing situation when we all went out for dinner one evening - but that, too, is another story.

Everything continued to go well between us - professionally and personally. One Friday evening, Sheryl came to my house and I made dinner. No idea what I made. All I really remember are two things; we talked for hours (truly) and Sheryl left late that night. We did not have a chance to eat dessert. No, not for reasons that you may be thinking, dear reader, but truly because we talked. I do remember it was fresh fruit salad.

The following morning, I was going about my business, puttering around my house and there was a knock on the door. Sheryl stood there with a tub of Häagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream and said it was time for dessert. A fresh pot of coffee was made and we sat in my back garden, talking some more, drinking steaming mugs of coffee topped with ice cream.

Sheryl had never been married. Me, once before. Over the years neither one of us felt a "need" to marry one another. We really enjoyed what we had. One hot summer afternoon, sitting by the pool, we started talking about marriage. Sheryl's parents were getting older. She was the eldest of three and the only daughter. Her two brothers were married. We decided then and there we were going to marry. Yes, for us, but primarily for her parents, her father, Joe, especially. His health had not been great.

We made arrangements to go to Las Vegas. Strange but true. This was exactly what Sheryl wanted to do. It was actually a dream of hers. To marry in Las Vegas. The other, I found out years later, was to marry a red-headed writer.

In keeping with our past subterfuge, we told no-one what we were doing - except for my brother, Ross and two very dear friends, Deb and Frank Nash from Detroit, Michigan. The Nash's were to be part of our wedding party. Actually, they were the wedding party.

As far as everyone was concerned, we were going to Aruba for one week. On holiday. If anyone had checked, our flight and a flight to Aruba left on the same day, from the same terminal, with the same airline, within 15 minutes.

We were married on the Saturday and on Sunday morning, from our suite at the Mirage, we started calling family and friends.

That was then.

This evening, there will be no battle of wills over dinner. We will be picking up Indian food from our favourite Indian restaurant - Shafiq's Taste of India.

Happy anniversary, Sheryl. Thanks for putting up with me all these years. Love you.