Friday, April 3, 2009

In the Beginning...

Inspired by Rude Cactus, Wyliekat, and possibly some other "how we met" stories [I surf & scan & bump & jump around a lot & can't don't keep track of it all], I began thinking of The Beginning of it all. While I enjoy every one of these other tales, I laugh to myself because the beginning of it all for Max & I was not textbook; not romantic; There was no "I gazed into his/her eyes & knew instantly"; was not "I saw him/her across a smoky room & knew I had to sabotage his/her relationship & make him/her mine"

To make this fair, I've asked Max to provide his perspective as well.

She Said:
by Harmzie

The most fate-soaked part of our sordid tale is that we met on the first day of first year engineering. It was daylight. Probably first thing in the morning. We were part of a group of first-years that were assigned to a "big sister" i.e. second year student [I'm not sure what exactly we were supposed to learn, but regardless, I still keep in touch with my big sis].

We didn't even hate each other. I remembered his name because I thought it was an odd name for someone my age. He remembered me because I was a chick. One of about 3% [nice odds, no? And still, that wasn't why I went in to this field! Shut up. It wasn't]. That was all.

But somewhere, toward the end of first-year, we began hanging out. Doing homework [did I mention that I didn't do very well in first year? that I had to repeat several courses? No? OK, never mind then]. Only we were *actually* hanging out an doing homework! It was slow and it was excruciating.

It was even more painful to watch, apparently, because another "new" couple we knew said to us: "We're going to a social Saturday. Why don't you guys come too?" Translation: "ENOUGH!!! go on a goddam date already!!" (I originally had "fucking" there, and for emphasis, it works better, but I didn't want to redirect the meaning)

That wasn't even enough. We both wanted to go. With each other. But neither could be the first to put it out there. We ended up with "I'll go if you go". And that was The Beginning. To this day, that is what one will say to the other when the other is being non-committal or wishy-washy on something. It garners darts sideways out of the eyes...

Epilogue: We went. We got hammered. We made out. It took a lot of booze to kill the bug up our combined asses [still the best part of Terms of Endearment was Jack Nicholson delivering that line], but kill it we did, in one shot. We both still shudder at our recollection of The Beginning. But we Began.

He Said:
by Max Power (he's the one with the name, and that name is 'Max Power')

My mission assigned to me by my lovely wife, Harmzie as you know her, is to write a post about how we hooked up. I was initially a little confused by this request, as her blog is not of the erotic variety. She then clarified her request, pointing to the calendar to remind me of our dating anniversary (as if I needed reminding, like duh), and that I was to write a post of how we got together. She also informed me I was not to use the words: heaving, throbbing, knockers, member, and honey pot in the post. Well, these restrictions are going to make this task a little harder than I thought.

I can vaguely remember the very first time Harmzie and I met. It was the first day of university, orientation I believe they called it; as it turned out, disorientation would have been more accurate, as my throbbing head the next day could attest. All the frosh were put into groups of 5 or 6 “sisters/brothers”, and led around the campus by 2nd year students on a tour of what were to be the important sites in our “higher” learning (i.e. arcade, bar, lounge). It so happened that Harmzie was a “sister” in my group. I do not know why, but I can remember that we first met in the lounge, and she was wearing a jean jacket. I also remember that she was a little standoffish and was completely uninterested in striking up any conversation. I do not blame her, as she was in a faculty that was at the time 95% male. I could not have imagined that next year at the same we would be going out, I also could not have imagined that next year at the same time I would still be in first year.

I do not recall any more instances or mental images of Harmzie until a few months later at a Valentines social. We ran in similar circles of friends – alcoholics in training (did I mention I failed first year?) – but we hardly spoke. I do remember that we sat with each other at the social for a while and had a pleasant conversation; that image is frozen in my mind. It was then that I realized that I had an interest in this lovely lady and she was not a total bitch (bitch = girl who does not talk to me). I had to come up with a plan.

My opportunity to ingratiate myself to Harmzie came one day in the lounge, a place where our circle of friends would spend a lot time. Harmzie was among the group when a question came up: “What would you do if a gorgeous girl with big knockers would show up naked at your door?” The usual response form the nerdy-sex-starved-males were something like, “I would grab her by the hand and drag her in my apartment and bang her brains out!” Seeing my opportunity I responded, “Well, I would give the obviously disoriented lady a bathrobe and find out where she lived and give her ride back to her mom and dads house”, or some BS like that, I do not remember exactly, but I do remember I had to fight all instincts I had, to come up with that answer. Of course, I suffered a great deal of ridicule, but I stood my ground. When I brought this up with Harmzie years later she admitted that my honey pot had worked, and I had managed to differentiate myself from those other Neanderthals as someone not entirely controlled by their member. I love it when a plan comes together.

The school year was coming to an end, so there were a bunch of assignments coming due. I somehow convinced Harmzie that if we worked together we could get more done, so we spent many late nights together working on our assignments. After a couple weeks of heaving her books about campus, I still was not sure she liked me. I would need some kind of sign, like a notarized copy in triplicate of Harmzie's romantic feelings towards me. Finally, some our mutual friends must have gotten tired of our lame mating dance, and suggested that there was a social which we could attend. Seeing my chance I boldly stated, “I’ll show up if you show up”, not to be out done Harmzie stated she too would “show up if I showed up”. I was so sly and smooth I arranged to pick her up to make sure that she would actually show up. As it turned out, it was the best move I could have ever made.

[me again]
Unedited. Just cut & paste, baby.

The night of that social was 22 years ago tonight. While we always make note of it, we generally don't celebrate it. It just seemed like a good opportunity to force him to talk about me force him to read my damn blog already invite him into the fold.

[also: you thought I was long-winded...]

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  1. holy crap... blah, blah, blah!
    and very cute. :)
    you guys are lovely. a couple of drunk, horny, love-struck crazy people.
    Thanks for bringing back memories of Frosh Week and the weird guy I was trying to avoid and subsequently had 2 beautiful children with.
    Happy Anniversary!

  2. Wow. Did you ever get his name?

    'Cause you might want to say "hey, dude, watch these while I go for sushi."

  3. I totally enjoyed that post!!! I love the way He Said managed to meander a few words in there that were no susposed to be there.
    I also like that your first year sounds so very much like mine! I wasn't an Engineer but I had to cry my way back into university as a parttime student on self imposed Probation.
    Bathrobe! HA!

  4. Oh man, that's a big surprise of a story. I was convinced your "how we met" story would have centred on "the elevator" that you were seemingly obsessed with when they tore the #2 Engineering Building down. (For those that weren't there, it was an old-style elevator with a steel sliding door with two portholes in it, followed by a metal inner door made of bars that scissored open and closed --- don't know what it's called. The elevator didn't have buttons for different floors, it had buttons for "up" and "down", so it moved until you release the button. Meaning you could stop it between floors if you needed 4.3 minutes of privacy for any reason). It's just that you mentioned it so frequently that it seemed to have some sentimental importance to you.

    And re "I originally had fucking there", which was it, you were asked to go to a social. or... ? What kinds of friends did you have? This doesn't have anything to do with Nenette's new Waffle Room, does it?

  5. Ah, booze. One of cupid's best arrows. :)

  6. @kyooty: thanks! and, um... a grumbling Max would (or, um, did) say "Hey! I got ALL the words in there..." ;-) I have to say, Max is the only one I know who could say a normally innocent-sounding term like "honey pot" and make it sound dirty. OK, maybe I'd be suspicious if I heard it from Nen's Roomie too.

    As for your university first-year story, you would fit in well with my friends. Many (in addition to Max) had to do the same thing. Some carried on to finish Engineering, some didn't & went on to other things. All are successful now. I like to think of it as people who had (have) diverse priorities, and were perhaps a little too young to focus on one at a time (at that time). Lest it sound like I'm preaching, it was a pretty random thing that I was one who finished.

    @Albert: funny. I thought it was *you* who was obsessed with that elevator. I did find it fascinating, from a technical standpoint; and disgusting, in that on Monday mornings it would have cushions from the lounge on its floor. The latter had nothing to do with me, though.

    @musing: "to alcohol, the cause of, and solution to, all our problems" Amen Homer, Amen... How else would us nerds find love?

  7. did he have you at, "hello. want to borrow my scientific calculator?" SNICKER

    very sweet and romantical in a 'get shitfaced and dry hump' kind of way.

    aaaannnnd for the win, alex:

    i am so sick. how sick? my head is throbbing and my stomach is heaving. 'member those old style knockers you used to see on oak doors? it feels like someone is banging on one inside my head - i think the reverbs are gonna shatter the ole honey pot and my brains are gonna leak out everywhere.

    did i mention i am pooped? i should have been in bed ages ago.