Long post but funny moments plus important news, so bear with me. *ahem* A few times, Alan has urged me to blog about how we met, so today I will oblige. It’s complicated because the story of How I Met Alan isn’t the same as the story of How Alan Met Me. I’ll get the easy one out of the way first.

How I Met Alan: I went to a baby shower for my dear, dear friend Nancy. It was co-ed so her husband Mark and his best friend Alan were there. I sat at the same table as Alan during present-opening festivities.

How Alan Met Me: Alan’s friend Nancy had a blog which he enjoyed reading. Nancy convinced me to start a blog, posted a link to mine on hers and gave me the occasional shout-out when I posted an especially funny entry. Alan started reading my blog as well, and one particular entry inspired him to send me an e-mail. We exchanged e-mails for weeks, only a few at first but it ramped up to five and six exchanges per day. We wrote about all sorts of things, stupid-people stories, computers, Invader Zim (a cartoon passion we share), music, movies, books, personal histories - everything.

During the course of our cyber-exchange Alan wrote about events at Nancy’s baby shower. I replied, "I know. I was there." He claimed to have no memory of me. Hmm...perhaps I have Guy-At-Shower confused and "Alan" was some other person entirely, or he’d gone to the shower held for her in Athens - but no, Nancy confirmed that we attended the same event. I couldn’t believe it! Not only oblivious to my charming personality, but oblivious to the allure of long red hair as well! That loud crash would be my already fragile self-esteem shattering.

Alan first consulted Nancy, who confirmed my attendance, and then asked Lachele. According to him, it went like this:
"Do you remember Nancy’s friend Helly being at that baby shower we went to?"
"Yeah, dumbass, she was sitting right across from you!"

In his next e-mail, Alan wrote, "Do you remember me at all?" to which I responded, "Of course I do. When we did the present-opening thang, you were sitting at the oak table in their living room, in the middle on the side next to the wall, to Lachele’s right." Alan couldn’t believe I remembered him, but he didn’t remember me. This led to a long-running joke that continues to present day. I’d occasionally conclude an e-mail like this: "Helly <---- Mark's wife Nancy's redhaired friend who loves Spongebob, Invader Zim and hockey, and lives in Atlanta on Lachele's side of town, in case you forgot". Which is the reason why the story of How I Met Alan is different from How Alan Met Me.

At some point during all this cyber-conversing, I realized how much I liked his intelligence, sense of humour (quite snarky, is Alan!) and the personality coming through via e-mail. It had transpired during our correspondence that he lived in Atlanta, too - in fact, I could practically see his neighborhood from my office building - so I consulted Nancy and learned that he was unmarried and without a girlfriend. SCORE! I began dropping hints in my e-mails, trying to get him to ask me out. He ignored my efforts. I tried to be more obvious, which he likewise ignored. I was crushed. How could anyone withstand my abundant charm, rapier wit and stellar personality? HOW???

Now, Alan contends that my forays were too subtle. I protest. I think a fellow should know I was trying to flirt with him when I wrote, upon the subject of tattoos, "You show me yours and I’ll show you mine *evil grin*" and on the subject of personal dances (mine’s the Happy Dance, his the Dance of Chicken and Rice), "I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours." Furthermore, I submit that I flat-out asked him to buy me a drink. Wouldn’t YOU think I wanted to meet you after work for drinks and the swapping of amusing tales if I wrote, "Sometime I shall tell you about my blind date from hell, involving among other things, high-heeled shitkicker cowboy boots (no, not mine) but it is a memory that I prefer to face armed with a stiff Scotch. So, if you buy me a Scotch I'll tell you the whole story and it's pretty damned funny. I'll even throw in, at no extra Scotch, the story of my second blind date from hell, which was supposed to make amends for Cowboy Guy but sadly did NOT." I thought that last was fairly forthright but from him, nothing, nada, zip. Hmpf.

Throughout my quest, Nancy continued to monitor my progress or lack thereof. She was certain that Alan hadn’t asked me out only because it had not occurred to him that I wanted to date him. Several times she offered to intervene. I told her not to say anything to him, for two reasons: one, I believe that everything which happens, happens for a reason so if he wasn’t picking up on my not-so-subtle advances, perhaps that was a sign that it wasn’t meant to be. Secondly, I couldn’t believe anyone, especially someone as intelligent as he otherwise seemed, could be that truly oblivious; therefore I was certain that he understood my overtures but for whatever reason wasn’t interested. How humiliating for Nancy to talk to him about me, only to have her report that he knew what I was hinting at and was nauseated at the prospect! - which I felt was far more likely than him not grasping my meaning.

Time passed and e-mails continued. Then on June 28, 2004 David Sedaris, Nancy’s favorite author, was giving a reading at Border’s in Buckhead. She invited Lachele, Alan and me to meet her there and hang out a bit. My opportunity was at hand! I would wear something flattering, I would be amusing and diverting, he would be totally infatuated with me and ask me out, probably that very night for coffee or something! At Border’s, I followed him around like a lost puppy. I was witty! I turned on the charm! I failed abysmally. The next day (a Tuesday) was a day of standard, normal e-mails, no suggestion of getting together, no hint that he’d like to converse in person, no indication that he had succumbed to my tempting femininity - and I’d worn my very cutest shoes! - though he did acknowledge that it was nice meeting me for the second first time.

Once more, Nancy asked to interfere and once more, I declined. Thankfully, she chose to ignore me and IM’d Alan that evening. The next morning, Wednesday, I had an invitation: "So, here's how it is - I really enjoyed meeting you Monday night. Would you be adverse to meeting me again for dinner and a movie, or whatever it is the cool kids are doing nowadays? I'd like a chance to meet you again for the first time, without a baby shower or hundreds of David Sedaris fans in the way. Yes or no, it's your call, but I'm hoping you say yes."

As astute readers have probably surmised, I said yes and our first date was the following Saturday, July 3 - wasn’t it clever of us to place it close to a national holiday so it’d be easy to remember? He’d moved in by January and now guess what?

If it doesn’t work out, we’ve agreed to blame Nancy.

MONTOYA DELENDA EST!