And We Have A Winner!

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A big heartfelt thanks to all the terrific storytellers who shared with us their funny, romantic, improbable stories of meeting their mates.  We loved it and readers loved it, too!

Choosing a favorite was tougher than we expected, they were all such terrific stories, we couldn’t choose just one! So, here are the honorable mentions:

Chuck T’s in Love

Fluid Movement

Love at the Cat’s Eye Pub

We have Mouth Party caramels for you!

But the one that stole our hearts was Angie’s tale about meeting her guy on Match.com. (Please contact us, Angie, at [email protected] so that you can receive your gift certificate for dinner for two at Pazo and a bottle of Roederer Estate “Special Cuvée” Brut NV from Bin 604.)  Happy Valentine’s Day to all! 

The winning story: Love is Weird by Angie

I met my guy on, what else, a Match.com date. It’s always a little sad that it was such a generic venue, but in my experiences I met some cool, very non-generic people, so I call it a success.

I don’t remember him particularly standing out to me on the site. In fact, when he responded to my initial contact, I sifted through his account wondering what in fact had drawn me in? It must have been a late night, “Why not cast the net wide?” moment. He was tall (score!) and active (who would actually admit they aren’t?) but, on paper seemed rather boring, so I must have “winked” him in a spirit of hopefulness.

We met in Fell’s Point, both after extensive, secret Googling of each other, and now both saddled with slightly negative perceptions from our Google findings. For me, the meet was overshadowed by his uncanny resemblance to my stereotypical frat boy soon-to-be ex-roommate, something I had somehow overlooked in my online perusing. Just perch a backward baseball cap on that blond head attached to the tanned body in the preppy clothes and he was a dead-ringer. Ever a traditional fella, he was reeling from the fact that my nose stud was still in, despite my non-teenager, non-Indian status. Over burgers at Cooper’s Tavern he talked incessantly and hyperly, making me cautiously recall a coworker’s blind date with what turned out to be a cocaine addict. I wondered if I would end up with a drug user online dating tale. I remained optimistic—either way it was a good story. Later in the evening, over a beer at the now shuttered Shuckers, he shared an entirely unrelatable, ridiculous theory about how sneezing is such a vulnerable moment you shouldn’t acknowledge it with a “Bless you.” But, at some point I realized maybe the motor mouth was nerves and indeed, there might be a supremely interesting, dare I say, highly nerdy person in the incorrect body and correct social skill set. He had thought a lot more about tithing more than the average 27-year-old. He was actually active, maybe loving the sea as much as I did the mountains. And, I laughed. Constantly. At his self-conscious jokes, his college experience, his attachment to his flip flops long past their prime, and the way his face contorted when he realized he was talking too much or got excited that he was.

He didn’t seem dangerous and life is short, so I said he could drop me off at my Little Italy home in his huge pickup truck. He parked where unfortunately most of my neighbors were sitting on their porches drinking their wine with a prime seat to witness our next actions. A first-date drop off in a truck is inevitably awkward. Stretch across the canyon between seats for a hug? Primly shake a hand? Smile and sprint? For me, a slight prude, a kiss was out of the question, especially because I hadn’t completely negated the possible drug addict angle. “We should hug,” I said, hopping out of the truck, rounding around the back to… an empty seat in the running vehicle. I headed around the passenger side. Nothing. After a few baffling laps, we finally found each other near the front. “It was fun,” I said warmly. “…You’re weird.” He immediately looked understandably stricken. “No! That’s a good thing… to me,” I rushed to say, leaning in for the hug.

We’ve been weird together ever since.

 



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