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“The other coordinators I interviewed,” I say to her, lowering my voice, “they did not instill this kind of confidence in me.”
    Melissa looks proud of herself. I continue, saying, “I think this will work out. I’m really excited about working with you. So…” I fumble in my purse for my wallet. “…deposit? Contract? Where can I sign on the dotted line?”
    I produce my tattered Coach wallet and instantly Melissa sings, “ Looove that. Is it vintage?”
    I stifle a chuckle because while it might look vintage with its well-worn look about it, the truth of the matter is that it’s old. Old, used, and it’s taken a beating, but I can’t fathom parting with it, no matter how ragged or “vintage” it looks, and not just because it’s only one of two Coach items I actually own.
    “It was a gift from my fiancé Conner for our first-year anniversary,” I tell Melissa, who has her hand out and is beginning to fondle the piece.
    “A man who has designer taste,” she says.
    “It’s a sweet story, actually,” I say, turning the wallet upright. A grin plays my lips.
    “Tell me, girl!” Melissa says cheerfully. She sits back comfortably in her chair, posture exceptional, and folds her arms across her chest. “Tell me about this sweet story about the anniversary gift, how you two met, fell in love, the proposal…” She abruptly sits up taller and clasps her hands together. “How long have you been together? When did you know he was the one? Oh, dish! I love girl talk!”  
    “Well,” I say, “As for the anniversary gift. Conner saved up for this.” I lift the faded tan wallet up a few inches. “I’d been eying it all throughout freshman year in college, but couldn’t gather the nerve to splurge on it. It was such a sweet gesture, because Conner knew I wanted it so badly, and he had to make a real effort in saving for it.
    “Maybe a wallet isn’t necessarily that super-romantic gift that a girl gets from the love of her life, even if it is from Coach.” I set the wallet down and give it a light pat.  
    “It’s a piece you never leave home without,” Melissa adds in. “It’s the perfect gift!”
    “Exactly!” I exclaim. Melissa totally gets it; we’ll get on just fine, I have a feeling.
    “But Conner did pull a classic romantic move not even six months into our relationship,” I say.
    Melissa’s eyes grow wide and she nods excitedly. “Dish, dish!”
    “Actually,” I say. “Let’s start from the beginning.” I lean further into the table.
    “When boy meets girl! Ooo, yes, let’s!” Melissa cries, then hungrily sips on her straw.
    I launch into the story of how Conner and I met. It was the first or second week of our freshman year at the University of Washington (what we alumni call UDub), and I was sitting alone in the cafeteria. I had met Sophie and Robin at our freshman orientation camp because we were in the same group. That’s when I’d met Lara then, too, because she was our camp counselor. But it being so early on in the semester, and with our mismatching schedules, three days a week I found myself eating lunch alone at the obscure hour of eleven o’clock.
    Then, one day, a very cute (and nervous) guy came up to my booth, plunked down his lunch tray, and said, “I’m Conner.” He took a seat across from me and smiled an unforgettable smile—the smile he still flashes when I know he’s thinking about me and only me and has no worry or care about work or the TV or…anything. He asked if I wouldn’t mind him eating with me, because “a pretty girl like yourself should never eat alone.”
    A couple of days later and about two dates under our belts, we were an item. Kismet, I suppose. The girls say it was our fate to meet in that cafeteria. Two loners one morning who were destined to find each other, fall sickeningly in love, and eventually get married and have a happy family.
    A year into the relationship, Conner gifted me my now-tattered wallet, and six months in