The Introduction

The prompt this week at Write on Edge was: describe a face to face meeting which, for better or for worse, didn’t go as planned.  This “meeting” popped into my head immediately.  For more stories, head over to Write on Edge! 

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

It was probably the least likely place that I expected he would suggest to meet.  I had been there before, of course, shoved between men and women around my age with ice clinking gingerly in my glass.  I remember being pushed around easily in the place – never being able to stay near the group of people I came with and surrounded by strangers far too eager to pay for overpriced liquid courage.  I was 80% positive that a girl had puked in the bathroom the weekend prior.

I thought about calling it off.  I really did.  There were too many things that scared me.  What if I don’t like him?  What if he doesn’t like me?  What if we have nothing in common?

Instead, I was late.  There are far few events that I am actually on time for.  He responded quickly that he didn’t mind and it was the first good sign.

Luckily, he picked a night during the week and so it was quiet.  We could talk and talk we did.  We started off easy discussing some things that we already knew that we had in common… crossfit, paleo, family.  Then, the surprising things happened.  Like, how was he the only one to get me to talk about my blog?  Or, the way he laughed for no clear reason.  I would later find out that he does it because he’s happy.

It ended at exactly the right time – not too late and not too early.  It wasn’t dramatic, a fairytale or a damsel in distress situation.  It was simple and I had no idea how it was going to end.

But, it was definitely the beginning.

The 20%

It was a Thursday night like any other.  I lay half asleep in my bed dreaming thinking of the things that I needed to do the next day.  Print the presentation.  Email a coworker.  Clean the condo.

Gurgle.  Gurgle.  Gurgle.

“What was that?”  followed by a soft “I’m scared” was all that he needed to jump up and rush to the kitchen.

To my dismay, my kitchen sink was rising with… water?  Liquid?  Literally my garbage disposal and plumbing were up-chucking water and “food particles” into my sink.  Apologies if you are eating anything now…

“Toolbox,” he called.  I scrambled to my utilities closet and presented his request, tripping over strewed garbage bags and flower vases – that normally find their home under my sink – as I approached him.

“I think that we’re going to need a plunger.”

“A what?  But it’s the KITCHEN SINK… and I don’t have one.”  (I have to admit; I thought that this conversation would happen way later in our relationship.)

“What do you mean you don’t have one??”

There were a good 2 or 3 minutes here where we just stared at each other.  I’m not sure if he thought that I was going to magically show up with what he was looking for, but it became evidently clear that it wasn’t going to happen.  That’s when he decided to go to 7-11.  They must have plungers for purchase, right?

A few minutes and rising water later, he reappeared plunger in hand.

“Great; they had one.”  I quickly spoke the obvious.

“Yep.  I just took it.”

“Haha,” I laughed.  Good one.

We again stared at each other for a good 2-3 minutes where I contemplated whether he was still joking or actually serious.

Upon several of my questions, he finally said “No really, I walked into the 7-11 restroom and walked out with this.  We’re either going to have to return it tomorrow or never go back to 7-11 ever again.”

OH MY GOD… I didn’t know whether to laugh or hug him a million times to thank him for doing the most ridiculous thing to save my condo from flooding.*

There comes a point in every friendship / relationship / acquaintance-ship that I’ve had with a male where they make this “bold” statement.  “Just so you know, 80% of what I say is a joke.”  Yes, I get it.  I discovered this when Danny from second grade punched me in the stomach to say that “he liked me.”  Y’all like to avoid the truth.

Here’s the hard part — how the heck do us women know when it’s the 20%?  

*My condo did not flood.  The water stopped on its own.  My garbage disposal / plumbing is still somewhat broken.  I still have the plunger.

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