We're changing things up around here today... Your regularly scheduled hilarity will be back next week!
The first day I met Fiancee was my first day working in an office. I was the new Administrative ASSistant at 18 years old, just 5 months after I graduated from high school. I remember it being a great day, mainly because I wouldn't be working a job that required me to wear a visor (::cough:: SONIC ::cough::), and I actually got my very own desk! Squeeee!
My new supervisor walked me around the tiny office, introducing me to the only seven people that could actually fit inside. Most were old, fat men whose names I wouldn't remember for weeks. But there was one man that stood out. She introduced him as Andy, but I would later find out that everyone else called him Andrew.
My first thought was that he was cute in that computer geek kind of way which is just my type. But for some reason, I thought he was much, much older than me. I'd never worked in an office before, and I assumed anyone working in an office must be at least 30. Because I assumed he was so much older, I also assumed he would be married or have kids or something along those lines.
For the first six months of working there, I rarely spoke to him because every time I did, it just became one big, embarassing mess. I would be standing at the copier, copying a stack of papers when Andy would walk by and say, "Good morning, Sara," which would result in my face turning beet red, tripping on my heel, and papers flying everywhere.
There were also many moments when I would try to make a joke with him around that came out all wrong. The rest of the afternoon would be spent beating myself up about it, thinking about what I should have said and how ridiculous I sounded.
The first day we really had a conversation still sticks out pretty vividly in my mind. There was some project that needed to be done for his team. I didn't have anything to do so my supervisor sent me to help. It was incredibly boring work, but it did keep the two of us standing right next to each other while doing work that didn't require a lot of thinking.
This is the first time I remember being myself around Andy. I'm pretty sure I spent the entire two hours making fun of his taste in music, movies, and television. One of the best things about him that first day was that he held his own. Instead of just laughing at my jokes, he made fun of me right back for my love of alternative/indie music that nobody's ever heard of.
"Oh, I just surf Myspace until I find a band no one has ever heard of to be my favorite band. And then once they become popular, I don't want to like them anymore because I'm an indie rocker."
After that particular day, I looked forward to going to work every day. I would find ways to sneak in to his office on a daily basis so I could start a conversation. His office held the only three-hole punch, and I would often bring blank pieces of paper in there to hole punch just so I could talk to him. Later, those papers would just be thrown away.
My favorite thing about Andy was that he never looked taken aback no matter what conversation topic I brought up. We often talked about hookers, why their lack of teeth was so beneficial to the ahem, process, and I spent many days asking him to please pick one up just so he could tell me what it was like. I babbled on and on, trying to cover any silence so he would realize what an interesting and beautiful and amazing and perfect girlfriend material kind of girl I was. And somehow? He didn't think I was the weirdest girl on the planet.
After a few months of talking at work, social networking provided us with a way to exchange phone numbers without being creepy and ruining our work relationship. For a few more months after that, I texted him every single night until I fell asleep with my fingers still on my phone when I woke up.
(I even had a drunken night at one point where I sent him a text message that said, "So when are we gonna make out?")
This is the point where Andy and I have differing stories. I'm pretty certain that I'm the one who asked him out on a movie date, but he thinks he did. Whatever the truth is, the date was set for a Friday night movie to see Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.
I spent HOURS planning my outfit for that night. Something comfortable and casual, but also hot and sexy, but not too sexy because I don't want to look like a slut, but just sexy enough to make him think about having sex with me, but I'm not shaving my legs because I need a reminder that I can't have sex with him tonight because it's the first time we are actually going on a date date.
Being a girl is fucking tough, okay?
So the night of the date came around, and saying I was nervous would be quite the understatement. I was practically that girl with the note cards in her pocket just in case any awkward silences arose. My heart was beating about a million miles a minute, and I was sweating like a fucking dude. (Attractive, I know.)
I told Andy that I would drive to his house and he could drive us to the movies from there. I, of course, was late as usual. When we were in his car and heading to the movie theater, I said, "You should really just get used to this. I'm kind of late to everything."
(Aside: You are so lucky I love you guys because I'm going to get a lot of shit for that last paragraph. Andy and I always fight about who made us late that night, and I tell him over and over that I had been sitting outside for fifteen minutes before he finally noticed me. I have officially been caught.)
He drove slow, he went the long way, and I made sure to make fun of him the whole way there because that's my go-to when I'm nervous.
I remember most of the details of that date perfectly. I remember whispering in his ear during the movie, hoping he was wanting to make out with me. I remember buying a Dr. Pepper for the both of us, but he didn't take one sip the whole goddamn movie. And I remember missing half the jokes in the movie because I was so fucking nervous.
After the movie, he started driving us back to his house so I could get my car. The conversation flowed perfectly, with no awkward silences or bad jokes. We were both incredibly nervous, but we somehow made it through without looking like total jackasses.
After I climbed out of his car, he said, "So do you want to come in for a little while?" "I was already planning on it," I said over my shoulder, on my way to the front door.
While I was getting comfortable on the couch AKA laying my clothes just right so they cover all the flabby bits, he went to pick out a movie from his less-than-stellar movie collection. Somehow he decided it would be a good idea for us to watch a movie I've never seen before called Ravenous. Just a little FYI: It's a disgusting movie about cannabilism. I still think he did this on purpose, knowing that I would get so bored with the movie that I would need something else to do (like make out with him).
After about 20 minutes of that Godawful movie, he asked me if he could kiss me, and I could feel both of our hearts racing in our chests. He tilted my head up, and when we first kissed, my whole body went into extreme heat mode. I had never kissed someone before whose lips felt like they worked so well with mine. There was none of that disgusting slobbery-ness that I experienced with my first kiss and many others after that. There wasn't that obnoxious "open your fucking mouth because I'm tired of kissing like middle schoolers" thing. It was just... honestly perfect.
Obviously I wasn't planning on things going any further than that, but.... come on. If he was that good at kissing, that had to mean something, right? I figured the theory needed to be tested.
And thank the good Lord in heaven that it was.
The next morning, I woke up at around 7 in the morning and panicked. After glancing in the mirror and having my suspicions confirmed that yes, indeed, I did look like absolute shit, I knew I had to get out of there before he could see me looking like such a fucking trainwreck. So I crept out of bed, grabbed my bra off the floor, and crept quietly out of the house to make the 30 minute drive-of-shame home.
To Be Continued...
For part 2, clickity click hiz-ere.