I happened to hit “T”on my Blackberry while in the txt messages to my Soup King. It happens that by hitting “T” it sends you to the TOP, i.e. the oldest message for that contact. (It took me over a year to happen upon that handy shortcut. I suppose I could have read the user’s manual, but where’s the fun in that?) I realized I had every single txt we’d ever sent to each other, going all the way back to the first one. I had set my txts to never delete for a far less romantic reason, but I like this particular happy result.
Seeing as how I’m a mom of three, attending graduate school, and pursuing a writing career as well, one could see how I didn’t exactly have much time to “get out and meet people.” Most of the students at my school are around a decade younger than me, maybe the small minority that are only half a decade younger, with the random outlier that is a decade or more older and changing careers. In any case, I spent ninety percent of my time in a lab by myself, or maybe with one other person. The other ten percent involves trekking across campus. So far, no likely dating candidates materialized in my flasks, so it was time to take advantage of the technology era.
A few of my single friends had tried online dating sites, with various results. My dating resume was woefully lacking, so I figured the worst that could happen was a bad date. I checked out a few sites, went on a handful of dates, all with rather low expectations of finding anything other than some conversation, maybe even flirting if the guy was lucky, and a free drink and/or meal. I admit the vast majority of men were so far below my my criteria that I found it amusing to see just how much of a prick/creep/moron some men could be.
Then one day, after a series of “eh, waste of my time- deactivate account” then “well it is entertaining- reactivate account”, I reactivated and spotted a new guy, who I found out had also decided to give it another shot and reactivated his account. We traded a few emails; enough to know we were both on the geekier/nerdier side, my horde of animals didn’t deter him, and he didn’t say a single lewd comment or ask for weird favors that made me want to find brain bleach.
So, we agreed to meet for coffee. (A bit of advice: A really short meet, like coffee or a drink is easy to end or turn into a “real” date. It takes the pressure off both people.)
There used to be a bookstore in what was once a theater that Elvis used to frequent. Inside it was a cozy little coffee shop and of course, BOOKS. I adore books, so hey, if the date didn’t pan out, I could go peruse the bargains. I forgot to specify the coffee shop INSIDE the store, as there’s a Starbucks right next door. Oops.
So here’s the confusion that ensued:
Soup King: I’m inside
I look around, but could not see anyone remotely similar to the picture online. At this point I’m wondering if it’s one of those decade old pics or something of that nature.
Soup King: [Street Name] right? (actual street intersection eliminated to prevent that one weirdo from tracking me down) Blue shirt, long hair, and glasses.
I look down at myself. Blue shirt? Check. Long hair? Check. Glasses? Check? He MUST see me! I look around some more. Maybe he’s outside, but no, no one is outside. The dude in the corner is starting at me over his newspaper, probably thinking that I’m a creepy weirdo for staring at him, but there’s no one else in the cafe and he has no phone in sight. Then, a possibility occurred to me…
Me: Wait, you’re in a blue shirt? Or me? Because I’m wearing blue.
Soup King: Where are you?
Soup King: Yeah, I’m in a blue shirt at the picnic table.
I’m looking at the handful of empty picnic tables.
Me: Picnic table?
As I stare out the window trying to figure out where in he was or if I’d happened upon the Invisible Man, I noticed the green canopies of the Starbucks’ tables.
At that point he called and we managed to end up in the same cafe. Really, what were the odds we’d pick the same shirt color to wear?
Needless to say, we hit it off and he became my awesome, wonderful, sweet Soup King.