I met my wife unexpectedly. I was 31 years old and only just getting back on my feet after having quit a perfectly fine job a few years earlier to chase my dream of becoming a writer. But instead of fulfilling that dream, all that had happened was me blowing through my savings and having to move back in with my parents for a period.

Eventually, I found another job and managed to move into my own place, but it hadn’t been easy climbing out of the hole I’d dug myself into. When I started dating again, I lacked confidence since I had so little to my name. A big no no for someone who was no longer in his twenties.

Then one day a friend asked if I was interested in meeting someone, a friend of his girlfriend. I said sure, without thinking much of it, and we agreed to meet at this lounge on a sort of double date.

Maybe it was because my friend and his girlfriend were with us, but the truth is I didn’t feel any sparks that night. I thought she was attractive, she seemed nice, and she definitely dressed way better than I did, but that was about it.

My wife would later say of that night how she didn’t like my hair, my baggy jeans, and the fact that I lit up a cigarette and started smoking while we were all talking. The only thing that saved me, apparently, was she’d promised her friends she’d give me three dates before making a decision one way or the other.

At the end of the night, I said it was nice to meet her and shook her hand.

“I hope we can hang out again sometime,” I said, and I meant it.

I got her number from my friend. We started talking on the phone and getting to know each other. For our first real date we decided to have dinner together at this sushi bar in Little Tokyo. I got there early and waited for her outside. It wasn’t long before I spotted my wife walking towards me, and I almost couldn’t believe it was the same girl. She was stunning. I would later ask her if she had done her make-up differently from the night we met, but she said no.

We sat at the sushi bar and I immediately regretted not getting a table. I thought she was the prettiest girl in the entire place, and I felt proud to be there with her as my date.

I did most of the talking that night. After dinner, we walked to this little bar down the street and sat outside under the bistro lights in a sort of makeshift alley, at the end of which sat a man playing guitar and singing folk songs.

I mentioned that I loved Bob Dylan, but she didn’t really know anything about him. We both nursed the same drinks the entire night. I don’t think our waitress ever came back, and I don’t think my wife said more than 50 words as she mostly just sat there and listened.

I can’t remember all the things I said, but I remember at one point asking myself why she was single. I knew what was wrong with me, why I didn’t have anyone, but I couldn’t understand why she was still alone. Then I suddenly remembered a short story I once read by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and I thought I’d figured it out.

I told her about the story before quoting the last line from memory: “There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice,” I said.

We saw each other regularly after that. Again, this was unexpected, so unexpected that at first I didn’t take it seriously, like there was no way she would go for me, but she did. Even then, I didn’t think it could ever last. Once she knew the truth about me, I figured it would all be over. I know how selfish this will sound, but at the time all I thought was let me enjoy this feeling for a little longer.

We were at my place the night I decided to tell her. I was renting this 1 bedroom condo for $1300 a month. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I thought it was a good deal. It was the first time I lived in a place with hardwood floors, and there were little touches like the fireplace mantel and the mirrored wall in the living room that that made the place feel nicer than it really was.

It’s funny if I think about it. After crashing and burning trying to become a writer, I had finally climbed my way back. From the outside, everything looked fine. I was 31 years old, had a decent job, my own place, and had even recently leased a new car.

That was the goal, to make myself appear respectable again, but now I realized I had another problem. While I was getting by, the truth was the only thing I had to my name was debt. I owed money for car payments, thousands in credit card bills, not to mention my rent. I made enough to get by, but getting by had never been enough for me. So I gambled. I thought it was the only chance I had of one day having any real money. That, and writing, but I now knew becoming a writer was going to be a million times harder than I imagined, so that only left me with gambling.

Sports betting, blackjack, poker, it was always the same. Sometimes I might win before I lost, but I always lost in the end. Fortunately, it was never enough to ruin me completely, but it was enough to make life harder than it needed to be, to always make me feel like I was playing catch up.

I knew I had to tell her all this eventually, that despite appearances, I wasn’t as established as she may have thought, or as much as I should be for someone my age. I figured it was better to fess up sooner than later, so one night about three months after we met, we were hanging out at my place when I finally decided it was time.

“I have to tell you something,” I said.

I could tell she knew it was serious by the way she was looking at me.

“What is it? You’re scaring me,” she said.

I didn’t want her imagination to run wild so I came right out and told her about my gambling issues, and how I had no savings.

After I told her, she bent over and buried her face in the blanket. She stayed that way for a long time. I didn’t resent her for reacting that way. I understood her disappointment. As a guy, I still believed in the idea of the man being the provider and the protector. We weren’t kids anymore, and I would have understood if she had just ended it right there.

Finally, she lifted her head and looked at me again. The first thing she wanted to know was how bad it was. How much did I owe? I told her. Then she said, “Can you promise you’re not going to gamble like that again?”

“I promise,” I said.

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