And now the continuation of the origin story of me and Honey Bear, which I’m posting on the two-year anniversary of our retroactively declared first date! (Neither of us knew at the time if could be called a date or not.)
Friday, February 21, exactly one week after I conducted my love spell: I met up with Lil’ Sis, and she drove us over to her friend Mummy’s apartment for snacks and entertainment. Matchmaking purposes lurked at the heart of the small gathering: Mummy and Lil’ Sis’s friend had both contacted her on the same day and were like, “I just got out of a relationship and I need to hook up with something!” Thus, this party was held so they could meet in an environment where it wouldn’t be weird.
Also being set up was Lil’ Sis’s roommate and one of Mummy’s friends, but neither of these orchestrated pairings panned out: Lil’ Sis’s friend couldn’t make it because it was too icy where she lived (although apparently she and Mummy met up the next day with no pretenses or fanfare and got down to it), and Lil’ Sis’s roommate left early.
Howevs, I did manage to kind of hit it off with their friend Honey Bear, who was just killing me softly with his anecdotes and observations all night. I told him that he was a charismatic storyteller and Mummy was like, “What about me?! Am I charismatic storyteller??” I like to tell Honey Bear that he wooed me with his anecdote about how he passed out in a 7-Eleven in Philadelphia. He also ensnared me by making all sorts of goodies—guacamole, tzatziki, bruschetta with goat cheese, and pizza—and the guys provided us Yuengling, and it was just so much fun for me to not do absolutely anything but just eat snacks and be entertained by boys. The life!
We played Just Dance, and the guys were so into it they insisted that whoever was dancing have “a shadow,” so more people could dance at once. Honey Bear and I shared a high-energy dance to Ike and Tina’s version of “Proud Mary.” (Honey Bear later expressed how drunk he was that night.) And to my great joy, we then played Rock Band, a game I hadn’t played forever but Friday reignited my passion for it. The boys scoffed at me for picking “Hungry Like the Wolf,” saying it was the lamest song ever, but then Mummy was harmonizing with me. He also scoffed at the rest of us for playing on Medium while he was on Expert: “Am I the only one who’s actually going to play this game?” Mummy kept running around all night, texting ladies to see if they would come over, and I had to tell him to “stop talking to Yoko” and get his head in the game.
And then! Lil’ Sis and I left eventually left the gathering after bidding the boys goodnight. (I’d noticed that when we were leaving, Honey Bear was hanging around the door, looking so hopeful about perhaps getting a farewell hug.) She and I were halfway back to her place when I stopped rhapsodizing about all the yummy snacks that were there that night and asked, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we turned around and went back and stole the dip and then just left?” and Lil’ Sis was like, “If you’re serious, I’ll turn the car around right now,” and I was like, “Mmmm…. OKAY!”
We giggled the entire way back to Mummy’s, and we left the getaway car running while we ran—still giggling—up to the apartment. I was nervous we were going to run into one of the chatty boys—Mummy or Honey Bear, the ones who wouldn’t let us escape without saying something—but the gods were on our side: as we burst in, two mild-mannered dudes were the only ones in sight, sitting at the dining room table and having a conversation (that promptly ended as soon as we materialized) and eating the guacamole and tzatziki, which we then proceeded to steal. We also snagged the bag of tortilla chips—the open one (Lil’ Sis: “We’re not complete assholes!”). Then, resuming our giggling, we ran back to the car and congratulated ourselves all the way home. (Mummy later texted Lil’ Sis, “You didn’t even take the lids!”)
As we walked to Lil’ Sis’s house from her car, cradling stolen snacks, Lil’ Sis said Honey Bear texted her and was like, “You absconded with the dip? Also give Stef my number.” Later I texted her that I was “slightly intrigued” by him but I just wanted to see how it all played out, and she’s like, “Do you want his number or should I give him yours?” and I finally told her to give him mine. And so on Saturday, I got a text that read, “Salutations, this is Honey Bear. How goes?” (Much, much later, when reminiscing over these humble beginnings, Honey Bear lamented about his lack of game during our courtship and I asked if, after he sent that text, he slapped his forehead and groaned, and he was like, “YES THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I DID.”)
We met up for coffee on Sunday and had a marathon dish fest for four and half hours. It was really quite enjoyable talking to him—so enjoyable that I didn’t realize until I left how intensely dehydrated and exhausted I was (and how badly I needed to pee). I wish I remember what we talked about but it was just tons and tons of stuff: our jobs, my creative projects and how I need fifteen hundred marketing interns, the couple times he almost died (it was not just at the 7-Eleven!), tattoos, where we want to move to, how one guy we both knew always dressed like the Crow, and so on. He was seriously cracking me up and I liked that he was listening and asking me questions; I generally feel like I have to have mostly rushed conversational sound bites prepared, so it’s rare for me to be in a situation where I’m talking and people aren’t stopping me. He was just really easy to be with, right from the get-go when I showed up; there was nothing terribly awkward about any of it. And I liked how he kept shaking his hair around and tucking it behind his ears.
“Oh my goodness!” I’d thought. “I might like a boy again! This is kind of fun.”
So there you have our meet-cute. Like I’d said, I’ve always fallen in love with the concept of having a story of us, and I think this one is quite nice!
Still, as far as birthday party entertainment goes, I’m sure it was a far superior experience than if any of the following entertainers had been present. Now I’m no expert on kids nor do I pretend to be; however, my intuition does suggest that the following would not go over well in any crowd, especially for the under-ten set:
Playing in the empty bathtub
