Love means never having to put a laugh line in the third act

So I have this really strange habit when it comes to guys. Alright, I mean, as my best friend will attest, I do have more than one. Okay- I have more than one hundred.

But there is this one habit that I’ve had since I was a young, fresh-eyed teenager that just barely started thinking boys were cute. Whenever I meet a guy, any guy and have that moment of “Okay, maybe he’s cute. I could see myself dating him…” the very next thought that enters my head is telling people how we met. The scene is always the same. It’s always a dinner party complete with white linens, candle light and good wine; me and my new boyfriend (call him boy X) are sitting next to each other, enjoying colorful conversation with the other party guests when someone asks “So… How did you two meet?” X and I gaze at each other for a beat and we tell our story. However, if the story isn’t a good one, I shut the attraction off. Yeah, that’s the habit.

For example, a few years ago, I was working at a coffee bar while I was in school. It wasn’t the best job in the world; the hours were insane (sometimes I’d have to get up at 3:30 am to get to work on time), the pay was just above minimum and to make matters worse, I was putting on weight from my endless consumption of decadent iced coffee drinks. But there was this one thing that kept me going to work on time, and loving it every day. It was a boy X. This X was sweet and funny. He made off color jokes and liked my music and- this is the biggie- he was really- REALLY into me. He left notes in my locker. He stayed after his shifts to spend time with me. And everyone else at work already assumed we were sleeping together but *cue dinner party sequence*

PARTY GUEST: You and X are just so cute together.

ME: Oh, gee, thank you.

PG: So, how did you two meet?

ME: We worked opposite shifts at the Coffee Bean. Pass the cabernet.

Um…no. See, I can’t have something average. I blame Sleepless in Seattle. Remember the dinner party scene in the very beginning of the movie where Meg Ryan and Bill Pulman describe how they met? She orders a BLT on rye with no mayo and no bacon or something and he ordered the opposite- and their orders got switched? I mean how great is that? I want something like that!!

The crazy thing is the scenario is always the same and happens literally the instant after I meet someone. I don’t even really need to talk to them- I can see someone and I’m transported to that dinner party immediately. And it hasn’t changed with age, either- in fact, the stories just get better. Think about it “He was in my college algebra class” becomes “Four years ago he was in my college algebra class and never spoke to me and then one day we were in the same line in Starbuck’s…”

I’ve created the scenario for people I barely know as well. Like if I’m getting pulled over for a speeding ticket.

PG: How did you and X meet?

ME: Oh it was silly really. He pulled me over for a traffic violation-

X: She was doing forty in a thirty-five-

ME: And he asked for my license and registration and-

X: And her phone number!

Sometimes even people I’ve never met at all.

PG: How did you two meet?

ME: Well, I called because there was a miscellaneous charge on my Visa bill…

The thing is, perhaps it’s outlandish to want some ironic, romantic meeting, but I don’t necessarily think that there is anything wrong with it. One of my favorite stories my grandfather ever told me is how he met my grandmother. He was working as an office manager and she was one of many young stenogs that came in looking for a job. My grandfather interviewed her. “So, did you give her a job?” I asked him one day, “What?!” he asked, flabbergasted, “No, I married her!!” When my parents met, my mother was my father’s choir director and then something like fifteen years later, she was his landlord. My oldest older brother met his wife when they were randomly riding in the same elevator together. I may come from a family of cynics but dammit if we don’t have some adorable stories to tell. I mean- who doesn’t want a meet cute?

Maybe this is the exact reason I don’t like the idea of internet dating. Not that there is anything wrong with internet dating, it just lacks that Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy type epic romance I crave! I mean “His name popped up in my e-mail of possible matches from Love.com” just doesn’t seem like a funny, quirky, dreamy story of how I met my prince charming. Call me an idealist, but maybe I’d like something less ordinary.

And so, as I continue my search for my Harry, my Sleepless in Seattle, my optometrist, Paul- you’ll have to excuse me if I pause for a moment to reflect on our impending love story. Because as every good woman needs a good man, every good love story needs a good plot. Mine is still in rewrites.