I had seen Lance Romance at a festival or two but had never spoken with him. And blonde ponytails really weren't my thing.
But that night after many cans of Sly Fox I suddenly didn't mind the hair as much.
We were sitting across from each other at the Good Dog at a table filled with friends but we talked the whole time. The night was coming to an end and he asks me, "Have you ever heard of the P and P?"
I was floored. Lance Romance knew about the seedy after hours club for bar/restaurant folks?
Yeah- I knew about the P and P. I didn't engage in the seediness of it, but had a few beers and gross hot dogs there in my day. So we smuggle cans out of Good Dog. Drink them on Latimer St by Dumpsters....(soooo romantic) and precede into the P and P. We got a table in the corner right next to the juke box, Sierra Nevada Celebration ale and talked and talked.
We talked about the beer club, and how he started the West Chester Cycling Club. I found out that he had a degree in journalism from Syracuse- a program I wanted to do, but couldn't afford. We enjoyed each other's company until the lights got bright and it was time to say good night.
He was a gentleman and waited for me to get a cab. I didn't know what to do. Do I smooch him? Hug him? Nothing him? It was the worst. I was like half in the cab and according to him- I went in for that first lipsmack. The cab starts driving away. The window was down so I leaned out of it, turned around and screamed, "Don't tell anyone." Oh my god, how mortifying! Who does that? I guess I did.
A month would go by before I saw him again. We had a few email exchanges. Enough of an electronic flirtation to build up to his Belgium comes to West Chester event.
I took the bus out there with a gang of people and got extra free drink tickets from the brewmaster. He was trying to woo me I guess. A few tripels, and quads later I was officially smitten.
and that was three years ago today.
Sometimes he wants to choke me.
Sometimes I hate his facial hair.
Sometimes we get coffee at Flying Saucer after a long night out.
Sometimes we're pretty cute.
(after a Founders Breakfast Stout or two)