Just for fun, Carlos and I have each written our own version of how we met. We wrote them independently- no consulting and no comparing. This is a fun game.
He says:
The meeting between Sarah and myself almost didn't happen. If I were to have followed my typical routine of leaving work with a sense of lost dignity, turning down invitations to hang out with friends, and returning home only to retreat to bed in defeat, I would have missed out on one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Despite my sour mood, I decided to take a friend up on her offer to meet at Asheville's beloved dive bar, Broadways. Afraid the night would play out in disappointment and be an absolute waste of time, I proceeded through the door into a room of gloomy stares and neon lights.
As I walked through the bar of unfamilar faces (in my saturated jeans that reaked of Indian scented dishwater) I approached the door leading to the patio area. There I saw a few fellow co-workers and a good amount of friends of a friend of a friend that were nameless to me playing apples to apples. I searched for a space to sit at the combined tables that seemed to be assembled to house the last supper of party games. No such luck. Then, I turned slightly to my right and, to my saving grace, noticed two people I vaguely knew along with a cute stranger. It was very unlike me, but I took it upon myself to pull a chair up next to her and make my presence as non threatening as possible. And yes. My luck. The chair was soaked with water.
Now that my jeans felt as if I just put them on after immediately stepping out of a pool I introduced myself. "Hi, I'm [the] Carlos, and whats your name?" Pretty standard introduction, but Ive never been a guy who throws out one liner bear traps. "Sarah" she says as we both shook hands. With her elbows fixed on the chair's arm rest, one leg crossed over the other in tight blue jeans, and a mysterious glow illuminating from her face I instanty felt comfortable. We begin talking about typical typicals, not so typicals, interests, and our current pursuits. There seemed to be a nice connection between the both of us.
As the conversation and the night continued I began to worry that my speech would become noticeably slurrly. Not eating for hours, being as dehydrated as a dried apricot, and drinking usually does that to people (or I just may be speaking for myself). After finishing my first beverage without plans of leaving anytime soon I offered to buy Sarah a drink. I asked what she would like? and she responds to me "I'll just have another soda water with lime." Question marks spun in my head like the barrel of a revolver as I walked to the bar. I then thought to myself, she hadnt been drinking and she is still here talking to me. I must be doing something right and this isnt just me imagining sparks.
I returned with our drinks and we chatted more at length. Our time and night was coming to end, and i knew i couldnt leave this place without asking for her phone number. "Asheville is small town, but what would be the chances that I run into this girl again?" I thought to myself. Right as I opened my mouth to shyfully ask for Sarah's number, she had her phone out to get mine. We begin to throw out possible hang out plans as we both nodded our heads and smiled in approval. As I watched her walk off with Ryan and company I proceeded to thank my friend for the invitation out. If I would have become victim to the motions I wouldn't have meet Sarah. Instead, I left that hole-in-the wall dive bar where people go to hide their faces and mask their depression feeling hopeful,brand new, and no longer defeated.
I say:
Carlos started out as the friend of a friend, Jeni. Jeni and I go to similar events sometimes, so the fact that Carlos and I had not crossed paths before May 30th (thank you, Facebook) is a bit strange. Our other mutual friend, Ryan, invited me out for drinks at Broadways (one of her and Jeni's haunts) that night. I had just gotten home from a long day of chicken salad slinging at the cinema. I could easily have said, "No thanks, hun. I'm hitting the hay." But I didn't. I got cute and went all the way to Asheville.
We were having a nice enough time there. I was out on the patio, sipping my favorite through a straw, talking with Miss Ryan over the sound of boisterous lesbians when I looked up and saw Carlos's frame in the doorway. His shoulders were squared as he surveyed the room and there was look on his face that said he was happy to be there. Tattooed roses bloomed down one muscular arm. The first thing I thought was, "Oh, he's cute." The second thing I thought was, "He's probably gay." How could a guy who is that well put-together, wearing that tight a shirt be coming to see this group of people (lotta fantastic queer folks in that circle) and be straight? No such luck, right?
Gay or not, I would have been pleased to talk with him, but I was surprised and more than a little glad to see him make a casual bee-line for the chair next to mine. Even though it was wet from an afternoon rain shower, he stayed put. As he and Ryan and I exchanged words, I noticed a playfulness in his responses and genuine interest on his face when I spoke. Ryan ducked out once she saw the spark between us (she's a good, good friend). Although when Carlos was otherwise occupied, she whispered to me urgently, "Get his number!" (again, good, good friend). Mr. Ventura and I found ourselves in conversation for pretty much the whole evening- stopping only when we had exchanged digits to ensure the pleasure of repetition.
He texted me a day or so later. That was it- the beginning of something beautiful.
No comments:
Post a Comment