I met her online.
Rather, my best friend set her up to talk to me online, telling both of us that we'd really like one another. So we chatted, talking to each other about our lives and loves, what we wanted to do, where we were coming from and where we were going. And it was over the course of months that I realized that I really liked this girl, a lot.
it wasn't lightning--though her sending me a plant for no particular reason certainly didn't hurt. it came slowly, as we talked about it, figuring it out, attacking it in the cerebral way we're both inclined towards.
And then I went out to visit Michigan. My flight got in a little bit early, and I poked around at the gate but didn't see anyone resembling Chris or matching the description I'd been given of Loba. So I called her house, and was told that they were on their way over.
So I headed down the stairs--and look who was coming up?
Chris got to me first, sweeping me up into a hug, during which I finally squeaked and requested to be let go of, as I wasn't able to breathe. Then another step and I was greeted by another hug--more gently but no less heartfelt.
Loba and I explored a lot of stuff that weekend, enjoying the company of each other and of Chris. I felt very comfortable with both of them, more so than I'd expected--and I knew I had, in a sense, come home. I fit right in, I was happy and (as I finally admitted to myself) in love. The night I arrived, we went to a local burger place called Crunchy's, where I accidentally displayed my Seattle-bred beer snobbery--asking "do they have any Hefewietzen?" to be met with a pair of blank stares. I'd completely forgotten that there are places where beer still means Budwieser. But as we sat outside in the dim light, waiting for our food to arrive, I felt a sense of comfort, as if I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, in a place I was supposed to be.
it was really lovely.
I met her at a party.A friend of mine throws parties that are utterly fabulous. I'd arrived earlyish to one, hanging out in the cruel green dress(*) and talking to a friend. I'd noticed this girl running around the party--she was this tiny fireball of flirtatious energy, bouncing around. She introduced herself to me, and we kept running into each other through the night, ending up dancing with each other for a song or two. I didn't think terribly much of it, though I was interested enough to ask LL about her. I quite clearly remember asking the questions, is she sane? and does she like girls? The answers were respectively i think so and i'm pretty sure she does. (I've learned to do the crazy check before starting to even thinking about being interested these days.)
The friends I'd come with were getting ready to leave, and we were doing the goodbye rounds (which, at a sizeable gathering, can take over half an hour). One of the friends I was with had kissed her, which gave me the opening I was looking for. I hugged her, and after drawing back from her, I said, "you know, I give kisses, too..."
And she said, "Well, in that case..." and kissed me. A lot. In front of an appreciative crowd. I'm reasonably sure I was blushing by the time we finally finished.
She gave me her best gamine look as we looked at each other, and said, "you know, I've been admiring you all night."
(insert the sound of one jaw dropping to the floor here)
I managed to stammer out something to the effect of having been admiring her, as well. We had a swift exchange of "what local events do you go to?" and then, still flustered, I left.
Without getting her email address or phone number!
Fortunately for me, we both showed up at Crossroads the next week. And the rest, as they say, is history.
(*in the Barenaked Ladies song, there's a line that says, "if I had a million dollars, I'd buy you a green dress--but not a real green dress, that's cruel." This is definitely a real green dress. it's also utterly magic. it's simple, flattering, and really sexy. back up)
And that, my friends, are the stories of how I met my girlfriends, Loba and Velvet respectively.I've decided that it's not that I'm not romantic. it's just that I'm not sentimental. No squishy sentiment for me, thank you; I can do without the diamond rings and the wedding albums, the weepy movies and the sugary words.
Give me instead a hand to hold at an amusement park, someone to run to with news both good and bad, a quiet strength. That's all I need.
