How We Met, Part II

Okay, I posted this in my comments, but I just want to reiterate I am not making one bloody word of this story up. I use LL as my voucher since she was there. Occasionally Ms. Magnetic checks in here too, and she could verify this story also. I agree; it's pretty fantastic and makes you think that there was something larger working to bring us together.

So, to pick up the tale: At Ms. Magnetic's urging, I rang up the Cute Concert Girl, who did not pick up her phone, much to my pleasure. I can remember how my heart was racing and I was praying for voicemail so I could avoid a conversation right away. After all, what was I going to say? "Hey! You're adorable! I'd like to kiss your sweet moon face all the time!" I just didn't see how it was going to work, even though our conversation at the bar was fantastic: we both talked about wanting kids, being in graduate school, writing dissertations, etc. It was obvious after talking with her she wasn't just another purdy face, but still...

Now, as I have tried to emphasize, rugby can be, if you let it, one giant social activity, and the big weekend deal coming up was the annual Pig Roast, aka Drunken Festival with Pool and Hot Tub. And of course, roasted animals. It was a whole club event-- men, women, old boys, families, friends, supporters, etc. Since we have a large contingent of Aussies, Kiwis, Paddies, and Brits on the team, we roasted not only a big pig, but also a lamb. And since I had access to a big truck (see previous installment of story), I volunteered to go downtown to Eastern Market and pick up the grub. (This is a blog installment of its own really, but suffice it to say, it was pretty freaking gross and thank God, Ms. Magnetic was with me, but every time we turned a corner, we'd hear dead animal carcasses sliding around the truck bed. I still eat meat, but I try to not remember this trip.) As Ms. Magnetic and I were driving the food to the Pig Roast location, my phone rang and it was her: Cute Concert Girl.

What a conversation. I asked her what she was doing for the weekend, and she said she was going to Pelee Island and then to her cousin's birthday party. "Too bad," I replied, "Because it would be great if you could come to the Pig Roast. I've got the pig and a lamb in my car right now!" As an omnivore who really appreciates meat-eating, this sounded like a line designed to woo a potential lover. And perhaps if she was like the men I had been dating, it would have worked. Unfortunately, it didn't.

"I'm a vegetarian," she said. "That doesn't really make the event that appealing."

So, shit. My first post-bar conversation with Cute Concert Girl did not go that well. By the end of our strained phone talk, I thought she sounded bored and totally disgusted by my meat-eating ways. She said she'd call me or I could call her after the weekend. To tell you the truth, I didn't expect much.

But again, I was pleasantly surprised by this woman. I got an email. I sent one back. I got another and so on. Cute, flirty emails. This was getting fun. And later that week she gave me a call in my office whereupon I took the bull by the horns and asked her out. The only night we could both do happened to be the night before I left for a two and half week holiday to the UK, and I had rugby practice that night too. How dedicated I was in those days! Now I'd just skip practice and gussy up at home, but instead I went to practice, hightailed it to a friend's house downtown Detroit, got myself prettied up there, and walked over to a now closed restaurant to meet the girl. I was scared shitless.

Not unsurprisingly, this was the best first date ever. We were talking so much that the waiter brought us an appetizer we didn't order because he thought we must have been getting hungry. (He was gay too-- very sympathetic and perfect for the first date.) We ate well, drank nice wine, and when we left, I tried to kiss her. She rebuffed me. Gently, but still. No fucking kiss. This was a bit of an anomaly to me since my first dates tended to move very fast in the past. (This is not a great reflection on me, I know, but it's the truth and since I am telling you the whole story, you might as well know it all!)

This was awful. I called Ms. Magnetic and whined to her. I called other friends. I was really sad about the end of the date because I thought the whole thing went so well. I was upset about my UK trip because I wanted to see Cute Concert Girl again and again. I think I might have even cried while waiting in the airport. (Who cries before going on a great holiday to the UK?)

When I got the UK, I told my friend all about my date. She humored me and we stopped off in pubs with Internet access and I sent Cute Concert Girl at least three emails from abroad. In the last one, I finally asked her out again. And guess what? I never got one freaking response. Not one! Perhaps I was showing my eagerness to clearly? I should have played it cool? Detached? Oh, no. Not me.

I knew that right when we got home, there was a big rugby tournament scheduled at Pelee Island. The tourney was to take place at winery, and we were all going to camp at the pitch, mere steps away from the vino. And I knew that Cute Concert Girl was actively involved with planning at this tournament and she'd be there. I'd keep my hair on, I thought, and see what would conspire, but so far, I wasn't feeling that positive about the whole thing. I mean, a rebuffed kiss and no replies to my emails sent from abroad? It's the type of thing I'd be excited about and calling all my friends saying, "She emailed me from England! She emailed me from England!" And then writing back an enthusiastic response right away. Instead, I got total and complete silence, and it sucked.

Now, again, I need to stop since some friends are coming over tonight for tacos and I still haven't been to the store and we're even out of VODKA, so pressing things are beckoning. I do appreciate your patience with this story, but since you know how it ends, you shouldn't be fretting too much.