When Love Walks in the Room

His older sister invited him to a Friday-the-13th/birthday party for a mutual friend. The last party he attended with his sister was eight years earlier in high school. That bash ended with him in a doorway, swapping DNA samples with a future lesbian.

Yet he was ambivalent and depressed. He was 24 and still living with his parents. His job sucked ... and it was only part-time.

He relented. Maybe this would break the funk. Moreover, there was certain to be a keg.

A few hours later, he walked into their friends' house. Immediately he approached an athletic-looking woman with long curly hair wearing black stretch pants. He had his weaknesses.

She said she was from Nebraska.

"I've never met anyone from Nebraska before," he said.

The remaining conversation is lost, but he remembers disengaging from it when another partygoer, who looked suspiciously like his brother-in-law, started horning in on the action.

He meandered into the kitchen, and started catching up with some refugees from a past life. Among the group stood one person he didn't know.

She said she was from Nebraska.

"That's funny," he said. "You're only the second person I've ever met from Nebraska, and I met the first one a few minutes ago in the other room."

She laughed. "Next, I suppose, you'll tell me I'm only the second blonde you've ever met."

Her eyes were blue. Her skirt was short. The beer was Heineken.

Several hours of witty banter later, his sister interrupted and asked if he was ready to go home.

"I guess I'll go with you," he slurred matter-of-factly, "unless she wants to give me a ride home."

To his surprise, she said she would. Little did she know that his sister lived just three houses from him.

They drove to his house in her duct-taped burgundy Toyota Camary.

"I'd invite you in," he said as they sat there in the driveway's November darkness, "but I live with my parents."

"That's OK," she said.

Once inside, he offered to make her a cup of tea.

He handed her the steaming mug and a half-filled carton of milk. Without unfolding the cardboard spout, she tipped the carton on its side. A thin stream of milk shot out of the slit and into her cup.

"I don't know about Nebraska," he said, "but out here, we usually open the carton, then pour."

It was then, legend has it, that they knew that they we're perfect for each other.

Happy 16 years together, My Love. Earl Grey?



Video: "Message of Love," The Pretenders

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