NOTE: This entry was written by my wife, Kristi. It was part of a blog we co-authored called “Love at First Touch” from 2011-2013. 

On a Friday afternoon in April I found myself driving through impossible rain.  I leaned forward in my seat and squinted to see the cars around me.  I stopped frequently for a break from the stress and tedium of this endless trip from Philadelphia to State College, PA.  Once every ten minutes, worried thoughts crowded my brain.  What in the world was I thinking?  Driving hours across the state to visit the house of a total stranger?  What kind of weirdo does that?  And in a crazy rainstorm, no less?

I was coming down off an awesome concert high.  Thursday night my friends and I had seen the brilliant Glenn Tilbrook perform live at the Tin Angel in Philadelphia.  The fun lasted beyond last call.  Glenn was sounding better than ever, and the crowd had this amazing energy.  By the end of the long night, I was showing friends a picture of this guy I’d met online.  The general consensus:  “He is cute.  But you are a crazy woman for going to meet him.  Let us know how it goes.  And for God’s sake, post on Facebook so we know you are still alive at this time tomorrow.”

You see, I’d met this guy – Jesse – on a dating website.  I know how it sounds, so withhold your tsk tsks, please.  We’d been talking online for a couple of months and had some nice conversations.  We had a lot in common and he seemed nice and genuine.  I couldn’t find a reason not to meet him.  And I had this hunch that, if I made the effort to get to know Jesse, it would turn out to be a very good thing.  So I decided to extend my Philly trip and drive up to State College for the weekend.  I was going to spend the weekend at this stranger’s house.  Clearly, I was mental.

In my own defense, I had checked him out online.  I asked about him through a mutual acquaintance.  I did my homework.  He offered me his downstairs apartment with a separate entrance so I would feel safe.  He seemed like a good guy.  We had connected so fully in our emails and phone calls.  I just knew he was someone I had to meet.  And that is how I found myself driving through a blinding rainstorm to meet Jesse.

After five hours of driving, I arrived at Jesse’s house.  I called my mom to tell her where I was and arranged to call her again in an hour.  If she didn’t hear from me, she would call the police.  I hesitated for a long time before I screwed up the courage to knock on Jesse’s door.

If you are one of those hopeless romantics who believes in love at first sight, let me just tell you that it doesn’t work like that.  Not for me, anyway.  Jesse and I had logged hours of conversations.  We knew everything about each other, and we had already connected more fully than most people ever do.  I thought that our deep emotional connection would translate to an instant physical connection when we met.  It did not.  When I saw Jesse for the first time I panicked and couldn’t even meet his eyes.  I had to start over at that moment and learn how to connect with the real person standing in front of me.  And I had to address the fact that I was freaking out.

But Jesse just looked at me and smiled.  He seemed calm and content.  The bigness of what I was doing hit me and I wondered if I should get back into my car and hurry home.  But again there was that little voice inside, urging me on.  That voice was telling me that I should see this through.  If I stayed, I might find exactly what I had been hoping for.