Hitched.

Tina and Aaron Wermerskirchen
JULY 12, 2003

Think of the "older woman/younger man" relationship and a few infamous combos spring to mind: Mrs. Robinson and young Mr. Braddock. Harold and Maude. Demi and Ashton.

Of course, the Greeks and Freud have said a word or two on the subject, and for us moderns, as well, there's something at once intriguing and startling about these kinds of pairings.

But the question people most often ask is: What the hell were they thinking?

For Tina Brewer and Aaron Wermerskirchen, what they were thinking--at first--was who would win the World Series.

One of the first things Tina, then 30, learned about Aaron was his age. He was only 22 when she met him at Northeast Sandy Boulevard's 52nd Avenue Sports Bar during the decisive inning when the Arizona Diamondbacks nabbed the '01 World Series victory from the Yankees.

After eyeing each other from across the room, Aaron and his friend made the move to Tina's table. Sure, he was cute. But 22?

Though shocked at the revelation, Tina didn't shy away from getting to know Aaron. He thought nothing of the age difference--only eight years, he says, a non-issue.

In the bar, during the World Series, the two started talking. Each discovered a set of shared interests--camping, music, even The Simpsons. Maybe 22's not so bad, Tina thought.

At the end of the night, Aaron made it clear that he wouldn't leave without Tina's phone number.

She didn't believe he'd make the call. Yet, the next day, her answering machine signaled a message--from Aaron calling to say he'd like to cook her dinner. Tina accepted, and in no time, Aaron was at her door, fajitas were cooked, and a May-December (or, more accurately, May-July) relationship launched.

The two found their first days together very comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that after that first night at Tina's house (both swear they "fell asleep" while watching a movie), as Aaron describes it, "I never really left."

Aaron started moving his things from his Beaverton rental to Tina's Laurelhurst home right away, and by February of '02 the transition was complete. Tina says once her friends met her new boyfriend, they weren't worried anymore about the age factor. "He's got an old soul,"
Tina says. "And I'm a younger spirit. I think we meet somewhere in the middle."

It didn't take long for Aaron to charm his way into Tina's kitchen. He'd have decadent meals waiting for Tina when she'd get home from work, and never cooked the same meal twice. He was studying to be a chef back then (now he is one--at Brasserie Montmarte); she's a social worker for Pacificare Behavioral Health.

Talk of marriage and kids soon followed. But, ages aside, Tina says she wasn't the one doing the talking. "Aaron would say things like, 'Oh, when we get married' or 'I want our kids to have your eyes,'" Tina recalls. Aaron's musings didn't worry Tina, but her responses were always more reserved, a studied example of the years between them. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there," she'd say.

Less than a year later, it was bridge-crossing time. One evening in June, Tina came home from work and was greeted by Aaron, wielding a glass of wine as usual. What was unusual, that night, was his announcement that the couple would eat in the basement and that the meal would be a repeat of their first fajita dinner. Tina opened the door leading downstairs, saw candles lining the stairs, and rose pedals littering the floor. Something was up.

When they reached the basement, Aaron knelt on one knee, produced a 1930s-era engagement ring and asked Tina to be his wife.

The couple took a year to plan their nuptials, and then this July married in front of 100 friends and family. They spent their honeymoon on a long trip across the West. By the time they returned home, they had racked up 3,000 miles on the odometer.

A road trip. The perfect complement for a journey that all began one night in a bar.

WWeek 2015