From New England to Oklahoma: A Love Story Across Oceans - The Beginning

Some journeys don’t just take you across the country; they take you straight into the heart of the unexpected. My path from New England to Oklahoma wasn’t just about miles traveled—it was about adventure, fate, and a love story that unfolded in the most surprising ways.

A Road Trip That Changed Everything

It started with a favor—helping a friend drive her vehicle cross-country. Drive cross-country - we had 3 days - get her car to her duty station at Ft. Ord in Marina, CA, then return home to Connecticut. That was the plan. But life has a way of unraveling plans and weaving together something better.

The ocean breeze, the endless sunshine, the carefree rhythm of life—it all pulled me in, and before I knew it, San Diego became home. I would go to school, earn a degree while I was there. But I would have fun, too.

Three years passed, and the call of my Yankee roots grew stronger. I was ready to return to the small-town charm of Portland, Connecticut, and the feeling of belonging that only home can offer. I was ready to leave. My ticket was booked. Everything was in place.

The plan was set—until fate threw me a curveball less than a week before I left.

A Dance That Almost Didn’t Happen

After a long day at an outdoor picnic, I almost didn’t go dancing that night. My friend and I were exhausted, but we convinced ourselves to go early for the country-western dance lessons at our usual spot. As the evening picked up and the bar filled with people, I was ready to call it a night.

Then, I saw him.

First, a good-looking man stepped through the doorway. He paused before heading straight for a table—blonds aren't my type, so I was still set on leaving. But two seconds later, his friend framed the doorway—a tall, dark-haired, strikingly handsome man. He paused, scanning the room before following his buddy.

I turned to my friend, half-joking, half-serious: I’m staying.

Then I quickly laughed it off. No guy I wanted to ask me to dance ever actually did, so why would this time be any different? As I mused about it with my friend, once again preparing to leave, she suddenly lit up.

"He’s coming over," she said, eyes sparkling.

I scoffed. Not even. History speaks, after all.

She only grinned. Well, he’s coming.

I was in the middle of mumbling something about not wanting to embarrass myself when I heard the words—soft, direct, perfectly timed:

"Would you like to dance?"

If my face matched my friend's, it must have been comical.

The Promise

We spent the evening talking, providing each a glimpse into each other’s stories as we swayed across the dance floor. He mentioned that his ship was preparing to depart for a six-month world cruise, but its journey wouldn’t bring him back to San Diego. Instead, it would end in dry dock in Philadelphia.

As we talked, he mused aloud that if circumstances had been different, he would have liked to get to know me better. I smiled, understanding the bittersweet timing. After three years in California, I was preparing to return home to my Yankee roots, so even if his ship had been coming back, I wouldn’t be there to greet it.

We spent the evening chatting, lost in conversation, as if the universe had conspired to create a fleeting moment that neither of us expected but both were enjoying. Before the night ended, I told him something bold, something that felt right—if in six months’ time, we were still in contact, I would meet him on the pier in Philly when his ship returned.

It wasn’t just a promise—it was an acknowledgment of something neither of us could quite name but both felt.

In the meantime, he asked me for a date and since he'd be on duty the next day, he'd call me on Monday. 

A Bold Call and an Unexpected Connection

Monday rolled around, and as I recounted the weekend’s developments to my colleague Nina, she hit me with a question I hadn’t even considered:

"Why don’t you call him?"

I laughed. Call him? He’s on an aircraft carrier in the Navy—you don’t just look up their number in the phone book. Or do you?

That’s when Nina grabbed the massive yellow pages and dropped them onto my desk with a knowing grin.

Well, as it turns out, you can just look up the ship’s number. Or, more accurately, you can find twenty numbers assigned to the USS Kitty Hawk. Giggling, Nina casually said, "Pick one."

I hovered over the list, hesitant. What was the worst that could happen? I spotted a listing—"OD - Officer of the Day." That seemed official enough. I took a deep breath and dialed.

A familiar voice answered.

"Janine, is that you?"

Oh. My. Gosh. Seriously. Of all people, his friend Joel who was with Pat that night had answered the phone.

I stammered in disbelief, but Joel just laughed, completely unfazed. "I’ll get Pat for you."

And then, just like that, I was connected to Pat. He was caught off guard, surprised that I had found my way to him through sheer determination (and a little help from the phone book). I could hardly believe it myself.

As Nina and I erupted into laughter after I hung up, I realized that this wild, impulsive moment had done something remarkable—it had officially set the stage for that first date.

Did the 1st date happen? Stay tuned!