Act I: They Meet

SHE SAYS:

Contrary to my generally introverted tendencies, I remember really wanting to go. I must have, because at that time, I was a staunch Virginian and traveling into the city was akin to deep space exploration. From their pictures, the alumni club looked as if they knew how to have a good time. The Best Friend - parties personified - agreed to accompany me into the drunk garnet and gold unknown.

The sports bar was packed and hot. And we were late. My best friend and I commandeered empty chairs from cringing adult diners and sat down next to a table of what for all intents and purposes appeared to be frat boys. Two buckets of mini-Coronas later, I recall hunger kicking in, as well as my extroverted side, and I hit the drunkest up for some of his food.

Drunk likes as drunk is, so it was natural that the Best Friend and Robert Downey, Jr./Hard Living were fast friends. A quiet, terribly game-engaged man sat next to him, cute as pie in a garnet baseball cap. I started talking to New Guy.

Where did you live in Tallahassee? When were you last at school? What do you do now?

Crickets.

He answered politely, but hardly took his eyes off of the game. I had seen these signals before. New Guy and I were going to be great friends.

I moved closer to him as the seating became more accessible, and I became bolder. Best Friend and Hard Living discovered they were both into beer and production, so New Guy and I had lots of time on our hands. We talked. He got my pop culture references and had a sense of humor to strive for. Although shy with me, he was en fuego with his friends. I liked him. And I remember trying to fan my sweat rings in the bathroom and restrict my use of the F-bomb so not all secrets would be told the first night.

The 4th quarter ended. Still bold and even more tipsy, I kept talking. We should all get together sometime. Let me get your email address.

I didn't ask for his phone number, but he wrote it on the back off his business card anyway.

I had seen these signals before. We might just end up more than friends.

HE SAYS:

When Kris first walked into the bar I went into shock. I wanted to speak, but couldn't. My heart skipped a beat, then raced. I was hot, nauseated, nervous. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I knew from that moment, that if someone didn't tell her and her wasted sidekick to get down in front I would've thrown my beer at them. I've often wanted to hit Kris (and sometimes her violently drunk best friend) with a Corona, but never with such intensity. It was the first game of the college season for us, and to those of us that attended as undergrads, there is no greater day.

I sat with a large group at a front and center table. We secured this spot by arriving early and drinking heavily. Fitz had been drinking since Tuesday for various personal reasons. Kris and her best friend were late and the latter was more drunk than Fitz. The girls sat stage right on individual bar stools. I remember thinking they were loud and I remember looking at Kris and thinking there is one girl I would never date, and she would never date me. It seemed she had to be at the center of attention, and I couldn't want anything less.

As the game wore on our groups blended. Fitz and Kris' best friend shared a moment over some type of cheese dip. Kris would chat with the group but was seated next to a guy on another bar stool so I thought her spoken for. Both girls wandered the bar quite a bit. I focused on the game and mainlining Corona. Towards the end of the night, Kris said we should all hang out again, so I gave my email and made a joke that she would never call. She took this as an assault on her character and I had an email from her within 24 hours. My reply was a compilation of roughly 27 different drafts edited for style, content, and "breezy-ness" by my brother and his girlfriend.

A Redskin game, a preseason hockey game, a hurricane, a blown off concert invite, and her 30th birthday party were all that stood between me and our first date.