Anna wants a meet cute, not a drunk meet.

As I was driving to work today, I let my mind wander, and my consciousness stumbled across a term I’m quite fond of.

I actually first heard it in a cute little movie called “The Holiday”. It was a simple holiday film, suitable for watching with grandmas and little ones alike on Christmas Day (you know, after the presents have been opened but before you burn your house down on Christmas Day because you left the oven on cooking a 20 pound turkey while you went out to watch a movie… Idiot)

As my finger swept over the keyboard, updating my FaceBook Status today, I of course added my own little interpretation to the line, ie. “not a drunk meet”.

While it’s not a new thought of mine, but I has occurred to me in the past that is is awful hard to meet good guys when they’re drunk, your drunk, inhibitions are low, expectations are high, and the two of you are anything and everything in between.

Who wants to be sitting down with they're grandchildren and have the conversation go like this,

“Grandma, how did you and Grandpa meet?”
“Oh well, that is a great story. You see, my darling, Grandpa and I were both hammered, I mean just falling over, can’t remember your name drunk!! Grandma stumbled out of this dingy little club on the wrong side of town and there was my night in shiny armour, necking a chick. Well once she passed out, he off-loaded her on a friend, who poured that sucker into a cab, and grandpa turned to me. Id like to think I knew right then that he was the love of my life, but lets be honest, I’m not even sure of that to this day, and on that particular night I didn’t even know where my shoes were!
“If you can learn anything from Grandma, let it be that high-heels hurt like a B*tch, but make your legs look f*cking awesome! So, my darling, wear them, and then remember to drink enough so that you can’t feel you legs anymore, let a lone your aching feet.
“Well anyways, your Grandpa turned to me, and with his cute little smile asked me my name. Well at least I think that’s what he wanted to ask, but he tripped over the curb and face-planted into the pavement. It was the cutest, hottest, most manly fall I’ve ever seen. Well I think I saw it, I did blink right at that moment and may have had my eyes shut for up to a minute, or at least until the spins kicked in. I may have imagined the fall, but I know when I opened my eyes he was on the ground and his friend, who you now call Uncle Luke, was pointing and laughing.
“I ran to him and his nose and face were bleeding badly. He got blood all over my skirt, and I could never wear it again. He did drunkenly promise to get me a new skirt, but 2 kids and 3 grandkids later he has yet to deliver.
“He staggered up and asked me if I could help him to the hospital. I pointed him in the direction of the hospital and planned to move on, but something in his face just pulled on my heart strong and even though I could barely stand, and I was quite certain I was making one of the worst decisions of my life, I asked him if he wanted to come back to my place. He smiled, I think, and that’s when I noticed he had knocked a tooth out. It was beautiful.
“We made it back to my place, a few blocks away, and while he cleaned up his face, tried to stop the bleeding and tried to ascertain if he really did need to go to hospital, I changed out of my blood covered cloths and threw them out.
“Well I won’t get into all the details, my darling, but the joyous mix of alcohol, Grandmas surprising willingness, and the fact that Grandpas face had stopped bleeding and wasn’t swelling too badly lead to us getting married.
“Well actually my baby it lead to your daddy being born, it just wasn’t until after that night that I found out your Grandpa is quite the Conservative, and that turned around to bite me in the ass!”

At this point your Grandchild will cry and run to their (almost a bastard) parent, who will turn to you, give you the stink eye, and chalk it all up to crazy grandma.

Now you're a crazy geriatric, with a drinking problem, a husband you're not even sure if you’re fond of, and grand-children who hate you. It’s all because of your drunk meet.

So next time you stumble up to the bar, and order yet another Vodka-Water, and you turn your head to see what you think is a cute young guy looking your way, walk away. Don’t worry about the next drink, don’t look at that ‘cute’ guy again, and leave the bar. Go home, sleep it off, and instead try to aspire to a meet cute, not a drunk meet.

Now you may be asking me, how do I find these so-called ‘meet cute’s? Where are they? How do I obtain one of my own? 
Well first of all it can’t be bought, traded for, planned or designed you capatilist pig. 
This isn’t Burger King, you can’t have everything your way! You can’t plan you love life, any more that you can plan the weather! You can, howver, plan for your life to happen, much like the weather.

Watch the signs.

The weather-man says it’s going to rain, but you don’t think will. What are you smarter that the weather-man? Did you go to weather-person school? Do you suddenly know how to read weather charts? God, you really a pompous ass, aren’t you??


So, let’s say you don’t bring an umbrella or a raincoat, and later you find yourself in the midst of a torrential downpour. You're there, standing in the rain, cursing the skies, and the Great Creator of theUuniverse, and even the weather-man, but let’s face it, you have no one to blame for this situation except yourself. You were given the warning and you chose not to listen, or care.
It’s the same with your love life, except instead of possible showers today, it’s a chance at love today. And instead of only occurring during the rainy season, and in the event of high humidity in the summertime, it’s happening every single day of your single life! (pun intended)

You know the opportunity is out there, but are you choosing to ignore what you see around you? Are you ignoring those hypothetical clouds on the horizon, and instead choosing to let the blurry vision of drunkenness guide your way?

So you’re watching for the signs, and I’m now going to hypothesize that one if these ‘signs’ hits you smack n the face (get your mind out of the gutters, okay that was probably just me). This sign, lets say goes something like this.


Suzy had worked on the cake for about 3 hours the night before. She was on her way to the party now, and even though she wasn’t sure why she was even going to this party, she had already baked the cake, so she might as well go. There was no doubt that Trevor would be there with his new girlfriend. The hotter one, the one he’d dumped Suzy for, but they still had a lot of mutual friends. She felt like she kept making up reasons to go to the party, and she hadn’t found a reason yet not to go. It was true she didn’t want to, but she hadn’t seen Trevor since he’d broken up with her, and she really did need to get out of the house more.
It didn’t help that after Trevor had broken up with her she left his place upset. She shouldn’t have been driving, but she just wanted to get out of there, and she didn’t even see that cat. She’s swerved to avoid it and wrapped about that lamp post. Now she was car-less, and using public transport. The bus smelled funny, and she had the cake on the seat next to her. She didn’t completely trust the cleanliness of the seat, but the cake was in it’s cardboard box, and it felt safe enough, it wasn’t like she was going to open it in the bus, there was no way she was going to expose food to this air!
As the bus tolled along it course, she suddenly wished she had an iPod, or even a cheap Walmart MP3 player. Everyone else on this bus seemed to have one, and they were able to suitably shut themselves off from this disgusting situation. She guessed that no one else was happy about having to take the bus either. The bus slowed, two more stops to go, she thought. Her stomach started to twist up. She was nervous, really nervous about this stupid party.
She should just skip it! No, she couldn’t do that, she’d already baked the cake, and people were expecting her, weren’t they? A few more dubious looking characters got on the bus and the last few chairs filled. She was a little unfamiliar with bus etiquette, but she moved to pick up her cake. As she did so the bus lunged forward and an unsuspecting passenger fell causing a domino affect. More and more decrepit bus passengers fell eventually ending in a young man toppling into the seat next to Suzy. All of this would have of course would have been a somewhat awkward bump if Suzy had moved the cake in time.
Suzy had not moved the cake in time and the young man now squirmed on the seat, realizing that hit something on his way down and now that something was all over his pants.
Suzy stared at the young man, mouth gaping open, in disbelief. He had crushed the cake!! He’d destroyed it! It was gone! Three hours of work for nothing!
Suzy couldn’t speak. She turned forward; other passengers were staring at the two of them. She could feel her face flush and before she could think she pulled the bell to stop the bus. It was one stop too early, she could walk, and she wanted to get off that bus as soon as possible! She wanted to get away from their prying eyes.
“Excuse me.” She whispered. The young man with cake on his pants obliged her. He was obviously as confused as her, and didn’t know what to do other than get up and let Suzy by.
She waited for the bus to stop and exited through the backdoor. She took a big step towards the curb. The bus driver, oblivious to what had just happened, and his role in it all, was apparently having difficulties steering today as well as accelerating.
Suzy almost had to jump to the sidewalk, and sighed as the bus drove away. She watched longingly after the bus, suddenly aware that she’s just left the cake on there. She didn’t even care. Anxiety and relieve washed over her simultaneously. She didn’t even want to go to party. It was a stupid idea to go. She wasn’t going know anyone there and she didn’t have cake to bring now. She slumped over and turned to cross the street. She may as well go home.
As she turned she walked right into someone.
“Sorry.” She muffled as she tried to walk by.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Can I do anything for you?”
Suzy looked up and saw the young man from the bus. The one that had both destroyed her cake and freed her from the horrific day that had lay ahead of her.
He looked about her age, and despite the fact that she knew he currently had cake on his pants, he was quite well dressed. She wondered what he had been doing riding the bus. He continued to stare at her as she analysed him, and she suddenly realized he had said something,
“Are you aright?”
“Yeah,” Suzy answered, “I’m fine.”
“But I ruined your cake. That must have taken hours!”
It did, she thought.
“Can I buy you a new one? It won’t be the same, I know, but you obviously needed a cake, wherever you were going.” He looked around, residential houses surrounded them.
“No it’s fine; I’m not going to that party anymore.” She answered.
“So quick? But it just happened? I mean I just sat on it. I mean destroyed it. How do you already know you’re not going?”
“I didn’t want to go, so now I won’t. I don’t have to now. So… thanks, I guess.” Suzy stumbled over the words. She just really wanted to go home and sulk. Maybe she could make another cake, and take it Trevor later. He had always liked her baking.
She took a step to the left and the young man countered. She took a step to the right, and he moved again. Why wouldn’t he let her by? She scowled, not exactly at him, but the whole situation.
“Can I -” he stopped, looking at Suzy’s expression.
“What?” she demanded. What did he want? She knew what she wanted. She wanted him to leave her alone.
“Umm, can I… umm, can I take you out for a coffee,” the words came out in a rush. “Or umm, yeah, a coffee? Or tea?”
Suzy stared at him. Did he just ask her out? Did the guy with cake on his pants just ask her out? The cake he had destroyed, her cake.
He looked at her. He was no doubt, questioning her mental stability at this point.
“Sure.” She replied. What did she have to lose?
“Good!” he beamed! “I’m John by the way.” He moved out of her way and ushered her to the corner. She had no idea where she was. Which stop had she gotten off at again? As they walked in silence, she saw a coffee shop on the next corner.
She introduced herself.
“I’m Suzy.” She put her hand out.
“It’s nice to meet you Suzy.” John beamed again. Suzy thought he smiled a lot for a guy who had just sat on a cake. John started apologizing again and asked again if there was anything he could do to help her.
“You already have helped me.” Suzy smiled.
Her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and looked at the screen: “Trevor – cell… incoming call”.
Suzy hit the ignore button and turned her phone off. She and John walked up to the coffee shop and walked in, John talking the whole time, filling the silence easily. Suzy listened attentively, smiled at his jokes and felt more comfortable with him then she had in two years with Trevor.


So that was quite a long meet cute, but it proves my point. Take your headphones out of your ears, or put your cell phone down! Get off your computer (after you're done reading this of course). Experience the world around you and pay attention to where you are. Don’t text during a meal. Don’t take a call from friend down the block or waiting in the idling call outside. Turn your phone off sometimes!
When the signs come along, and don’t ignore them. Instead I suggest you ‘ignore’ all the distractions in your life. Ignore all the people who try to own you rather then want you. Ignore all the people who disregard you rather than love you. Ignore all the people who try to change you rather than appreciate you for who you are, faults and all.

Try hitting the ignore button.

The meet cute was better described in the movie “The Holiday”:
Eli Wallach's character Arthur Abbott (a retired Hollywood screenwriter) described a meet-cute by saying
“Say a man and a woman both need something to sleep in and both go to the same men's pajama department. The man says to the salesman Ted, I just need bottoms, and the woman says, I just need a top. They look at each other and that's the meet-cute.

Those are the kind of stories you want to tell your grandchildren.

1 comment:

Vanessa said...

Test comment!