So. I was looking for a cheap apartment in Boston, which these days is about as easy as playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey in a spiked pit filled with rabid weasels, and not nearly as fun. I was therefore delighted when a friend told me that a co-worker of hers was looking for someone to take a very small (and therefore bargain) room that someone else was going to vacate. So my friend took me to a party the co-worker and her housemates were throwing so that I could meet them and we could all see if we liked each other.
I had been at the party just a few minutes when B*** walked through the door. My first thought upon seeing her was, "Oh My God, she's gorgeous." My second thought was, "But out of my league." I found out that this was actually the co-worker my friend had been intending to introduce me to. And at that point, since it was that kind of party, B*** promptly changed into a full-length vinyl dress (be still my beating heart), someone mentioned she was an astrophysicist (at which point my heart did just stop), and I decided that I was pretty much right in my first instinct that she probably wouldn't ever be interested in me in any romantic way, because, you know, I would imagine most sexy young scientists do not secretly long for a significantly older unemployed divorced bisexual playwright with a history of mental illness - exactly what you want to take home to mother, right? Besides which, and even more importantly, she was clearly attached to someone else at the party.
But anyway, she and her housemates and I chatted and we hit it off quite well, and I would have taken the room except that it turned out that B*** was horribly allergic to cats, so my moving in with my kitty would have pretty much entailed her instant death. But B*** and I decided to keep in touch anyway just because. How nice, I thought, a new friend. Then I left the party for a completely different party which somehow eventually involved a lot of toplessness and whipped cream, but that really doesn't matter to the story.
Anyhow, we kept in e-mail contact for a couple of months after that, always planning on getting together but never quite getting around to it. I would already have made plans for the evening she invited me out for a group movie viewing, she planned to come see a production of a musical I wrote but a weird set of circumstances kept her from going, that sort of thing. We finally met again in person because a local club was throwing a little celebration for the publication of "American Gods" - you got in free if you dressed as a character from a Neil Gaiman story. She was going with a group of her friends, and invited me along. I thought it sounded like fun, and said sure. (She dressed as Death from The Sandman, which might sound unoriginal except that she happens to be pretty much a dead ringer for Death from The Sandman if she dresses right. Sigh.)
At the club, we started talking. A lot. A lot a lot. I realized that everything about this person was cool. Anime fan. Liberal politics. Bi. Early music aficianando. Sense of humor. Not dangerously insane. Works with orbital x-ray telescopes, plays violin in an orchestra, reads Margaret Atwood, writes poetry, knows how to dance, enjoys wearing outfits consisting mostly of electrical tape . . . I didn't think they *made* people like that anymore. If ever. By the end of the evening, I was entirely smitten. And, I noticed, Significant Other From The Party was neither there nor mentioned. Discreet inquiries among her friends (which I later found out were so incredibly discreet that they promptly told her "somebody likes you . . ." ) confirmed that she probably wasn't attached.
So, going for the gusto, damning the torpedoes, going boldly forward and quivering with nervousness, I called her the next day and asked her out.
Turns out, by the way, that she was surprised I asked her, even though her friends had told her I was interested . . . since although she was also interested in me, she had assumed that, as an artistic type, I wouldn't be interested in a scientist. Apparently, she had been snubbed before for this reason, and so thought I was out of *her* league, which further convinces me that the whole world is on crack.
Anyway, she said she would be happy to go out with me, with one warning - it turns out that her ex, who had dumped her two weeks previously for being Insufficiently Jewish (convincing me that her ex was on extra extra strong crack), had just called her and wanted to get back together with her. She hadn't made a decision yet, and was feeling confused. If I was willing to accept that, she'd love to go out.
Oddly enough, this made me almost relieved - it had seemed too good to be true. I'd figured out the catch; she was sane, sexy, sweet, and smart . . . she just wasn't exactly single. OK, I thought, no insurmountable problem here, her ex is clearly an idiot, so all I have to do to win her over is be ABSOLUTELY PERFECT AT ALL TIMES. No, wait, I mean, all I have to be is comparatively UTTERLY AND ENTIRELY PERFECT. OK, so I have some issues.
Surprisingly, though, given how intent I was on romancing her, I actually succeeded. On our first date (Blue Man Group and an Ethiopian restaurant) we clicked so easily that I didn't feel the need to make an idiot of myself. At the end of the date, we shared an electric good night kiss.
I'll spare the steamy details, but a few days later, she confirmed that the ex was history.
We've been together just a few months over a year now. And I am still totally smitten. As you can probably tell from the fact that expanded "we met at a party" to a seven hundred page post by now . . .
--- KR