The Meet Cute


ELIZABETH ROSE

“Scenario in which two individuals are brought together in some unlikely, zany, destined-to-fall-in-love-and-be-together-forever sort of way (the more unusual, the better).” – urbandictionary.com

So today we start our relationship journey with first contact. In the movies this is always in the unusual, cute and zany manner that makes you realise these two are meant to be together.

In the lives of the ordinary and unscripted, first meetings can be awkward, and sometimes even boring. Many people meet through friends, at work, and these days online (*Hello Ken* – I’m looking forward to my close up…).

To be honest, with more than few of my past lovers my memories of our ‘first’ meetings involve me laying next to them naked and hungover the morning after. So although they weren’t boring meetings, they were definitely awkward. Personally, in this situation I find fucking like monkeys really helps break the silence.

Anyway, I digress.

Many of us, like a cute story and our romantic notions of “the one” require a story you can tell your grandchildren. I even know one or two. My favourite belongs to the parents of a friend of mine. The lady lived in the town centre during her university years. After a night out drinking with a mutual friend, her future husband was convinced by the mutual friend to head back to the lady’s house for further drinks. The result? Two drunken reprobates banging on her door in the wee hours of the morning, much to the dismay of our feisty heroine. How did she get rid of them? Well, the clever lass opened her first floor window, threw a bucket of cold water over the two pissheads, and followed it up with some verbal abuse.

Upon waking the next morning, our  hero felt quite bad about upsetting a complete stranger. So he returned to her home to apologise. A few years later they were married, and my dear friend is apparently the result of a late night shower.

That’s a great story for the grandchildren (especially in North England, where drunken men and feisty women are the stuff of romance).

Finn and I didn’t have a meet cute. We met in a bar watching rugby. I chased"not so meet cute" him down the street as he didn’t have the balls to get my number. Also, I haven’t heard from him at all since our sex tape escapade. I’d be annoyed, but instead I am a little piqued. I had sort-of-started-to-kinda-like him. I’d even stopped having regular sex with other men. I was still having casual sex with random men, but I am only human.

Posted in: Elizabeth Rose, From Our Blog, Main Page on February 1st by Elizabeth Rose


6 Comments

  • becky

    Comment by becky — February 1, 2010 @ 6:45 am

    “I had sort-of-started-to-kinda-like him. I’d even stopped having regular sex with other men. I was still having casual sex with random men, but I am only human.”

    Classic.

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  • Peter

    Comment by Peter — February 1, 2010 @ 10:23 am

    Did I just see cupid fly past the window on his way from place Elizabeth?

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  • Elizabeth Rose

    Comment by Elizabeth Rose — February 1, 2010 @ 12:46 pm

    @Peter – yes it appears the little bugger went and shot me. In this case might have been somewhat too late. Still no response from the Irish man – proper sulking after I ruined his homemade porn.

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  • Ken

    Comment by Ken — February 1, 2010 @ 1:40 pm

    //I’m looking forward to my close up…//

    I’m just gonna lie down on the floor and wait for you to straddle my chest, facing my feet. It’ll all be worthwhile, trust me.

    Also, excellent post. As always.

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  • Peter

    Comment by Peter — February 1, 2010 @ 5:03 pm

    @Elizabeth, I am sorry, perhaps you can make it up to him this weekend after the rugby. If not maybe you will have to pull something special out of the treat bag for valentines

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  • peter

    Comment by peter — February 1, 2010 @ 6:16 pm

    @Elizabeth, I have just had a rather sobering thought. Perhaps Finn is not pissed at you because you were pulling funny faces during his porn shoot but maybe there is a gay switch after all. You did say he wanted to take his plug home with him didn’t you? Perhaps there is a slightly confused Irishman wandering the public toilets of Toronto looking for some cottaging.

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