2009-01-12

How I Met Your MFF'r‏

Yes, Ms Florida Transplant, a previous time I delved into MFF with Ring of Lies left a lot of open questions. Few will be addressed here. This is my blog. It tells my story. If she wants to tell hers, she can start her own blog. (She's not going to.). But where our stories intersect, it sometimes gets interesting, and therefore a great source of material.

It was early January, 1992. T-Bone had just moved out to Akron, Ohio for a new job. It would have cost his company more to break the lease then to just pay his share of the rent until summer, so I had a nice 2BR/2BA in the NW Chicago suburbs to myself. Sweet! It was Sunday afternoon, and we'd just gotten 4 to 6 inches of powder. It looked beautiful, but to save myself some time in the morning, I decided to clean my car off before it got dark. "
The Butterfly Effect" in action. Little did I realize as I bundled up in my puffy down jacket, gloves and bright orange "toboggan" (a term I'd never heard before) hat and grabbed a broom (powdery snow) that my life was about to change forever.

Too be continued....

Just fuckin' with ya!

I get to the parking lot and see her, the future MFF. She's wearing the cutest black, pink teal and white jogging suit, and headband (but totally under dressed to be out there freezing to death). She was trying to clean the windshield of her car with one of those little ice scrapers that is for frost. She'd take a swipe, and her hand would disappear in the snow. Whatever didn't go up her sleeve reformed right behind her where she'd just been. Every once-in-a-while, I'd shout a friendly, "Need help?" or "Are you SURE I can't help?" Each time to be rebuffed.

Well, my car was done, and she was about 5% of where she needed to be. She'd said she wasn't feeling well, and had asked for directions to the hospital. (I was unsure where it was, but offered to drive. Shot down again.). Screw it. She was being a b*tch, and didn't want my help. So I did exactly what I was raised to do.

I smiled, and used the broom and a real ice scraper and cleaned her car off in about 3 minutes. She was sure that: 1) I was going to murder her. 2) I was an asshole because I made a comment on her Alabama plates. But somehow, I'd managed to get her name and we figured out that I lived about 3 apartments down the hall from her. She left for the hospital, and I was on a cloud.

I left a note on her door, inviting her down for dinner later. Reports have it (if you think this story hasn't ever been discussed, you've never met a woman) that she almost pitched the note, but decided to come down instead.




She told about being a flight attendant. :-)

She told me about being a gymnast in high school. :-)

She told me about her boyfriend back home. :-(

But that started a true friendship, and we were destined to share our first kiss...




About 8 years later.

But that's a story for another day.

3 comments:

That damn expat said...

I love how we met stories!

More! More!

Candy's daily Dandy said...

Loyalty counts for a lot in my book. The fact that you stayed around and were her "friend" for 8 years speaks volumes about the kind of guy you are.
Oh yeah, and did I mention you were a supreme gentleman also.

Ms. Florida Transplant said...

That's such a sweet "how we met" story. What a gentleman.