On Meetings

It's fairly typical that when I go out to a bar -- or anywhere really -- I'll strike up conversations with strangers. Some conversations last only a few minutes before I declare them -- silently -- to be a waste of breath. Other times, however, I end up talking to people for long periods of time, sometimes hours.

My favorite people to talk to are couples. I enjoy it because with the absence of flirtatious undertones you can just talk. The men aren't territorial pricks and the women are open and honest, with nothing to hide. We talk about our jobs, what we do, how we got here, where we're going.

And it is guaranteed that at some point in the conversation I will ask them my favorite question: How did you meet?

I've asked this question to almost everyone I know who is in, or was in, a relationship. I have seen this question quell arguments, spark looks of fond remembrance and arise debates on dates, times, details, etc. Many people have phenomenal stories about how they got together, about what roads led them to find one another and start dating. And I love hearing about it.

It's unclear to me why I enjoy hearing their answers to much, but I think it may be partly because I always enjoyed the story of how my parents met.

My mother was a sophomore in college and, on a Wednesday night, found herself in a car with her two roommates drinking beer. The college campus was in the middle of nowhere Indiana, they were two young to go to the bars, if there were even any bars open on a midnight on a Wednesday, and they wanted to drink. So she and her roommates simply scored some beer, hopped in the car, and drove to a street and parked.

They were having a good time, trading stories and talking about college life, when there was a problem: They all really had to pee.

As they were near the street dubbed Fraternity Row they exited the car and made there way a few blocks to a frat house. The lights were off and the house was quiet but they knocked anyway. No answer. They went down the street to another house, this one as well was dark and quiet. Again, no answer. Then another frat house. Once again, no one answering.

At this point they were hopping around doing dances because they really had to pee. And then, as they were contemplating the use of a nearby bush, they decided to try one more frat house. The Lambda Chi house.

They strolled up the front steps of the porch and knocked on the door. A fraternity brother answered the door.

Mom: "Hi. We really have to pee. Can we use your bathroom?"
Frat Brother: "Absolutely, come on in."

My mom and her roommates walked inside to see, among other things, my father and a few of his brothers shooting pool. It was low key, and it was comfortable. There was music on, not loud, but there was music.* And there was also a keg on tap. Imagine that.

After using the bathroom my mom and her friends hung out for awhile. They shot pool and drank the beer from the keg, and my father and mother started flirting. Of course, it was along road that lead them to getting married, but I always enjoy that story.

In the course of talking to couples I've heard some hilarious, odd and fated stories about how they met. I have my favorites -- I won't relay them here -- and I've heard some real lame ass stories, ones that have caused me to think to myself "Yea, right, this will last" and others that have made me hope that they do get married or stay together, because their story is too damn good to waste.

So, the next time you meet a couple and strike up a conversation, ask them how they met. It's worth it.

You have any good stories?

* This is completely unverified since my parents can't remember what song it was, but in the movie in my mind it will always be "Hang On, Sloopy." I have no idea why.