A Love Letter To Jay

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, we asked Patch readers to write a love letter to that special someone and let us deliver it. This is Linda Quinn’s love story about her husband, Jay:

“Coming off the tears elicited by a rendition of one of my favorite songs, ‘Strange Design,’ I stumbled out of the beloved Philly venue, the Spectrum. The night was unusually warm for November, and I had my sweater tied around my waist. My tie-dyed sundress and long underwear pants underneath were enough to keep me warm.

There, in the dim light created by the partially cloud covered moon, was the man who would later become the love of my life. He was breaking what typically is the cardinal rule of concert attending, he was wearing a worn t-shirt for the band he had just seen. I was sharing to everyone in earshot my delight of the set list, especially the Strange Design. He was happy to engage with me, and as the night grew later I offered him my lucky hacky sack and a goodbye. This gift would year’s later find its way back to me.

Our conversation weighed on me as I tried to drift off to sleep a few hours later. Something about him left a mark, but having not exchanged any contact information and in the era before Facebook, there was no immediate way of tracking him down. Days and weeks passed, life went on and he drifted out of my mind.

In 2011, I relocated to Doylestown, Pennsylvania, a small town in suburban Philadelphia known for its rich restaurant culture, various annual street fairs and events, live music and nightlife. I had moved there to be close to a job I had taken a year prior. My move-in day was a Friday and after work a band of friends set out to move my worldly possessions into the second floor walkup above a store front. The move was met with immediate issues. First, my couch didn’t fit through the old hallway and entrance into my unit. Then, while putting some of my kitchen stuff away, the power blinked and went out. My new neighbors walked by my open door and indicated that there was a carbon monoxide issue in the building and that we weren’t allowed to occupy the building until the next day. A “Welcome to the building” was thrown over their shoulder as they walked down the steps and out into the brisk April evening.

It was quickly determined that my cat and I could occupy the couch of a friend until my move in could be completed the next day. I locked up and headed out of the building, noting a short, dark haired guy on the street in chef pants talking to someone from the fire company. He looked up and I had a déjà vu moment. Why was his face so familiar?

A few days after moving in, I took my trash out of the back entrance to the dumpsters and inadvertently locked myself out of my apartment. With no cell phone and feeling silly in my half work attire (pencil skirt), half loungewear (hooded sweatshirt and slippers), I went into the burger and shake place in the storefront under my apartment to ask to use their phone to call the landlord so that I could be let back into my apartment. The nice older woman behind the counter let me use the phone and gave me the phone number to the landlord. I left a message and made awkward small talk after leaving him a voicemail. From the kitchen, I got a wave from the oddly familiar face of the dark haired proprietor. More weeks passed before we formally met.

During our first conversation, I offered up that he seemed familiar. We played the “How could we have met?” game, but nothing about our social circles, workplaces or where we had grown up shared any commonality. By this time the weather had warmed up and I was regularly donning short sleeved tops and he commented that he felt like he had met me before also because he remembered the tattoos on my arms.

The breakthrough came one day, months later, when I was lying in my bed after a Friday night of taking the nightlife in town to full advantage. Through my floor boards came the triumphant, whispered rift of Tweezer waking me gently from my sleep. I quickly dressed, brushed my teeth and willed my head to stop aching. I knocked on the locked door of Basically Burgers and the proprietor came and opened it just a little.

“You listen to Phish?!” My statement was not what he expected. He thought I was knocking to either ask for an early meal or to request the noise level to be decreased. What proceeded was a life-changing conversation where I discovered that he had been the recipient of my lucky hacky sack all those years ago, that he remembered my enthusiasm from that night and how he, too, had reflected on our conversation long after it was over that night outside the Spectrum. He still remembered my love for Strange Design and immediately found it on his iPod to play for me. I kept him company that morning until he opened the shop. And, we’ve been keeping each other company ever since: six years in total and two years of marriage.

For months after that morning, he would play Strange Design every Saturday and Sunday while he prepped the kitchen for the day, knowing that the tune would find its way through the floor of my apartment, stirring me from my sleep. We attended our first Phish show together at Bader Field in Atlantic City on June 17, 2012 and danced barefoot to a set list that ended with a boisterous Quinn the Eskimo as the encore (made more fun that Quinn is my last name).

What has followed has been a perfect romance punctuated by lots of live music, epic trips, his proposal in New Orleans and our wedding in Las Vegas, Nevada. He even resurrected that lucky hacky sack, a replica made perfectly to our memories with a pocket to hold my engagement ring.

Before reconnecting with Jay I didn’t believe in fate, but I have no other way of explaining our relationship. And even if it is just plain, dumb luck that we found our way back to each other, I’m glad that he is my partner as we “Swim(ming) in this real thing I call life." He is definitely my favorite companion on this ride (couldn't resist).”

--Linda Quinn

See all Patch love letters here.

For next month's Love In A Small Town feature, we want to know: What place in town will always be a reminder of love for you? Whether it's the park where you had your first kiss or the restaurant where he proposed, email your story to locallove@patch.com for the chance to be featured. Get more details here.