courting tracy: six months of pre-marital bliss (part i of …)

While I could loosely argue the process of courting my sweet wife Tracy encompassed over a decade, I would be leaving out a key piece of information. I would be leaving out the fact the first nine years of “courtship” existed solely in my mind, as a hopeless crush on an upperclass[wo]man I never had a single chance of landing. In a word, Tracy Nutter was unattainable.

But then I learned the virtue of self-confidence (without betraying my devotion to self-deprecation), turned 24, took a three week trip home to Ridgecrest, and everything changed–forever. This is where the courtship story truly begins.

The entire ordeal of getting from my home in Keansburg, New Jersey to Long Island’s Islip airport and ultimately to Ridgecrest, California is quite a story in itself. Perhaps another time.

I arrived at Islip airport with time to spare, so took the opportunity to indulge in another shot to add to a disturbing public restroom self-portraiture series I’ve flirted with over the years.

After a delayed flight and several frustrating conversations with Delta Airlines, I found myself in Las Vegas, Nevada, just a few hours behind my ride. I would have to wait until the next morning to make the final leg of the trip home, so I hailed a cab to the Palace Station, hired a room and said good night.

My youngest brother Chad picked me up the next morning and we headed south on Interstate 15, passing familiar landmarks Zzyzx Road and the Kramer Junction Solar Power Plant.

Over the next few days, I accomplished much: I sang karaoke with my sister and Cassie, tried out a ridiculous haircut, ate copious chicken quesadillas from Del Taco and visited my old high school parking space.

It was this trip to Ridgecrest Tracy Nutter and I both arrived in the same town at the same time, free from relational attachment. We were both home and both looking for the other. We met at Casa Java, and despite being called Wolverine by Tracy, we hit it off remarkably well.

On several occasions we posed for pictures on Chad and Jenny’s living room couch.

Cute, yes?

After spending nearly three weeks with Tracy, I knew I wanted to move back home permanently. I wanted to be with her, everything else be damned.

I returned to New Jersey to find my 1998 Dodge Stratus had been repossessed. This had been a long time coming after catastrophic engine failure and general undriveability resulted in me no longer desiring to make the required loan payment. It was the only real material attachment I had to Keansburg, so its loss was hardly felt. I had been laid off just after the previous Thanksgiving, so there was no job keeping me put.

Car and job lost, there were really only two things keeping me tied to New Jersey: a girl named Nikko and a boy named Ian. To state it so plainly might imply they were easy to leave behind, but that’s just not the case. The decision to move away from little Ian was without a doubt the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my life. It was not made lightly.

But the decision was made. I tied up my affairs, kissed my son good bye and headed west.