A year ago today, I met DD, which makes October 12 our “anniversary.” Go us!
This is what DD remembers from our first meeting …
A blue dress, a mischievous look, a jauntily confident attitude, a playful naughty smile, reddish hair with a few bits of grey, and a cider bottle being swirled around casually. Oh and stories of triceratops sex and you kind of warning me that you were trouble and a blogger, but don’t worry your pretty little head about that now cos I “promise not to blog about you”.
Anyway, after that I went home thinking “well we should do that again some time…..”
I think even slept that night.
Then all I can remember is a text at 6.30am the following Tuesday and then after that it is ALL a complete blur.
DD wrote those words to me a few weeks after our first meeting and a few hours before our second.
To be honest, the day I met DD wasn’t terribly earth shattering. Everything exploded two days later when I sent him that early morning text.
It was a Sunday morning and I was sitting in my favourite position: at the computer.
A message came through from DD on RSVP asking how I’d slept. We’d exchanged a few messages on the previous Friday, mostly about how we both had insomnia.
DD suggested lunch. I told him I was seeing a movie with my sister that afternoon and could only spare an hour. He said that wasn’t long enough and we should do it some other time.
It was 11.59am, so I heated myself up some leftover lasagne.
At 12.05pm he sent a message saying bugger it, let’s have lunch anyway, even if it’s just for an hour.
I explained I’d just swallowed my last mouthful of lasagne, but I’d be open to a cider.
So we agreed to meet at a suburban pub halfway between our houses. He said I’d recognise him by his GHB T-shirt and the carving knife he was carrying. I think it’s a mark of our shared sense of humour that I thought it was hilarious rather than scary. Oh, and it wasn’t a totally random remark – we’d been discussing the dangers of meeting strangers in bars.
I started this blog post with DD’s memories of me … what are my memories of him?
I told my sister afterwards that he was “arrogant and put his bare feet on the chair, but had a nice face.”
The bare feet thing really got to me. He was wearing thongs, took them off and plonked his feet on the chair beside me! Blerk!
He, on the other hand, says it was very bad manners of me to have ordered myself a cider before he arrived, not to mention regaling him with stories about sex acts named after dinosaurs.
We parted with me suggesting he should Google “Alana House” before committing to a second date.
He texted that night to confirm he was undaunted by my infamy.
I thought that was sweet, but I wasn’t really in the “zone” yet.
Little did I know that by the end of the week something pretty freaky – and ultimately lovely – would have happened between us.
Again, it’s a story for another day.
Erm, so much for my promise not blog about you, DD. Sorry!
Do you have a good “how we met” story to tell?
Song of the day: Grease “You’re the one that I want”