Dont Judge a Book by Its Cover
There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must admit that their parents were right. We do not like to admit it, but the old adages they told us as children are normally correct, and we teach them to our children. My mother was adamant about teaching me that you should “never judge a book by its cover”. Some examples of what she meant are: the color of someone’s skin, the way they dress, the type of car they drive, anything that might give false impressions, either both good or bad.
For the majority of my life, I had lived by that rule; kept it engrained in my mind, but when it came to the men in my life, well the cover was everything. When it came to men I was a student of Oscar Wilde who coined the phrase “It is only the shallow who do not judge by appearances. ” I was under the impression that aesthetics were everything. It took me until one day before my twenty-fifth birthday to determine that maybe I should apply the saying that Mom taught me, rather than the philosophy of Wilde, to every aspect of my life.
I now know that it is truer than anything else that Mother ever taught me; “never judge a book by its cover”, or you just might miss a great story. The day before my twenty-fifth birthday three of my girlfriends and I decided to go out for a pre-birthday celebration. There was a big party planned the following night, and we knew that we would not have a lot of time to hang out together. We got all dressed up and went to our favorite sports bar, George’s. I guess we could be considered regulars, and because of that, we knew a lot of the people there that night.
As we sat around our table, listening to music and talking, several people came over to the table to give me birthday wishes since they would not be attending the party the next night. About halfway through the evening, a friend of mine named Chuck came over to say hello because we had not seen each other in quite some time. He had been out of town visiting family in Huntsville, Texas. He told me that he had brought one of his cousins back to Houston with him to the bar as well as an old friend from high school.
I looked over towards his table and saw a man, who, in my opinion, at the time was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. I had to meet him. There was no way around it; he was tall, dark, and handsome. He had a smile that could light up a room. I did not say anything to Chuck just then, we simply continued our conversation, and I made sure to remind him of the party the following evening. He promised he would come. All the while I hoped that he would bring his friend or cousin. I was not sure yet which he was, but I would soon find out.
Sometime after midnight, it was officially my birthday, and I decided that my present to myself would be to meet that handsome stranger. I walked over to Chuck’s table and introduced myself to the other gentlemen. I quickly learned that the man whom I thought was so handsome was Alex, Chuck’s cousin, and the other man was Don, Chuck’s friend from high school. We talked for a while and I invited them all to the party later that night. I made sure they all had my number in case they needed directions and bade them good night. I just knew that Alex would show up and be my next beau.
The next evening I got a call from Don, which was not the call that I had been anticipating, he was asking for directions and said that he was coming with Chuck, but they had not heard from Alex. I was a little disappointed, but was excited about the party, so I did not let it get me down. When Don and Chuck arrived, I was shocked to see that Don came in with two dozen long stemmed white roses. “Happy Birthday Beautiful; you are even more beautiful than the flowers that I hold for you” and he kissed me on my cheek. I felt speechless but somehow managed to muster a quiet Thank you so much, they are amazing. ” Once he had given me the flowers, Don and Chuck went to find a seat and I remained stunned in mine. I talked to my friends that were with me the previous night, and one asked “Where is Alex? ” “I have no idea. ” I said. “Those flowers are incredible! Where did you get them? ” my friend Becky asked. “Don, the friend of Chuck’s that I met last night at George’s. The flowers are beautiful, and he told me I was too, I can’t believe this, he likes me. I don’t know what to do; he is so nice but just not my type.
He’s shorter than most guys I date and he is not slim and trim the way I usually like my boyfriends; what am I going to do? I guess I will just smile and be nice and think about it tomorrow. ” I said to my friends and we continued with the party. I never saw Alex that night and never got a phone call from him either. I looked at the flowers all day Sunday and could not get past how much Don was not my type but yet so very sweet. Don called me on Monday to say hi and thank me for inviting him to my party. He had really enjoyed himself. Finally, he asked if I wanted to go to George’s and watch he basketball game on Tuesday night. I was torn, he was nice enough, but I did not want to lead him on because he was not my type, it would never work. I decided to go and see what would happen after some good natured ribbing from my friends about being conceited and mean. I am so glad that my friends did pick on me and make me regret being shallow because I ended up very serendipitous. I soon found out that Don was the nicest man I had ever met. After spending some time with him his looks were not of consequence anymore, in fact they had grown on me in a way I never expected they would.
Ever since that Tuesday night we have been together and are now married with two beautiful daughters. Once we kissed, that man whom I had once considered a frog quickly turned into a Prince and I was blessed to become his princess. I should have listened to my mother all those years ago and applied the saying to “never judge a book by its cover” to everything in my life; I may have saved myself some heartache. Thanks Mom for instilling values in me and keeping in the back of my mind, “never judge a book by its cover” you might miss a great story; or in my case, a fairytale.
