At church, where I sang in the choir. A retired armoured corps captain (the People's Warden) seized me by the elbow and towed me over to meet the new guy in the congregation, saying, "You two should meet. He's an legal officer [to me] and she used to be a meathead" [to him].

(For those not in the know, a meathead is a member of the Military Police, in which corps I lasted just long enough for the Canadian Forces to find out about my lousy eyesight and make me a medic. They'll make you one, too, if you give them the wool. Ta dum *ting*.)

Of course, he was promptly posted to Germany and I married Mr. Wrong! Fortunately, neither situation lasted for ever.