Meet-cute; “Scenario in which two individuals are brought together in some unlikely, zany, destined-to-fall-in-love-and-be-together-forever sort of way (the more unusual, the better).”
(Thanks Urban Dictionary)
A few years ago a few friends and I were attending another friend’s 30th birthday party at a pub in Tooting, Southwest London. As this area is known for its curries we started the night eating and drinking our BYO bottles at a local restaurant before going to the pub to celebrate.
At one point during the night I noticed a guy with a curly top-knot and thought that he looked like a bit of alright but didn’t think much else. The night continued. or should I say descended. Somehow a night of curry and birthday drinks at a pub turned into a pretty big one. I came with three friends and we were doing rounds of vodka, soda and fresh lime – my friend Drew’s only had soda and lime due to the fact he was so drunk. He had no idea.
I lost him (and the other two friends) at some point in the night but it was all good as I found myself talking to the top-knot guy from earlier.
As we leant against an old sofa chatting we discovered we were not only both from Perth, Australia but from suburbs right next to each other. Actually we had a few mutual friends and had once attended the same party.
That’s not all – at said party, that I attended in my final year of high school, we had met, liked each other and spent most of the night making out. His hair at the time was dreadlocks (and I was, embarrassingly, a sucker for a scruffy guy with dreads at that stage in my life – my obsession with John Butler had something to do with it) so he looked very different to the guy in the pub but it was definitely him.
We were both a bit surprised at the fact that we had found each other after all these years. Fate? Who knows.
This wasn’t just any old guy I kissed at a high school party (and there were a few of them) but a guy that I got a MAJOR crush on. If I really wanted to I could find my diary entries that I wrote about him at the time (I am literally cringing as I write this). He had dreads, played guitar (and was a John Butler fan!), played football and had the same birthday as my Dad! Which was also my sister’s boyfriend (at the time)’s birthday too. Meant to be or what?!
I remembered back to that time where I didn’t yet own a mobile phone and he did so we arranged to meet up via my Mum’s phone (the embarrassment continues) and attended more high school parties. I remember a party where he showed off his skateboarding tricks and tried to teach me some, I remember lying on a trampoline looking at stars, I remember lots of kissing, including in an empty swimming pool and lots of general underage shenanigans.
I don’t actually remember what happened after that. I’m pretty sure a great way to kill potential for any sort of relationship was to use your Mum’s phone to make plans! But, more than likely, he was 17, good-looking and just wasn’t interested beyond some intense make-out sessions.
Of course I was a 17 year old girl with a diary so for me it wasn’t that simple. I think I remember some entries that involve questions like “is he the one that got away?” and “is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Even if you haven’t got to the love part yet?” (*cringe*)
Thankfully those entries didn’t continue and I got on with life and forgot about the cute boy I met at a house party in Hillarys when I was 17.
Or so I thought. Until I found myself chatting to him at a pub in Southwest London 10 years later.
The pub closed before our conversation ended (and, as I mentioned, I had lost all the friends I came with) so we decided to leave together. At this point – caught up in the excitement of meeting again and being full of alcohol we thought it was a good idea to start walking. I lived in East London at the time and he was staying in central – so neither us were even anywhere near where we would usually be! Another sign?!
It was also January so it was cold. But somehow I found myself jumping over fences, walking through graveyards and wearing his sweater as we continued our night.
Eventually we did catch a bus to Central London, where he was staying, and cracked open a bottle of red wine in order to continue chatting on a comfy couch in a warm apartment.
From that night we spent the next couple of months seeing each other when we could – he was spending most of his time in Berlin at the time and I was preparing for my departure of London at the end of February. We would cook together (he had been working in kitchens in Aus so enjoyed “whipping up” gourmet feasts), go out dancing, lie on a pebble beach in Brighton, attend gigs, tick off A LOT of London restaurants from our bucket lists, watch documentaries in bed and hang out – catching up on lost time.
Being reunited after 10 years in a random pub in London – almost 15,000 miles from our hometown of Perth – still blows my mind.
If that doesn’t make for a great meet-cute story than I don’t know what does!
And that guy?
He is not my boyfriend.
Whilst we enjoyed one another’s company the “relationship” was always going to be short-lived. Ever the romantic I think I wanted it to become something more but he was 27, good-looking and just wasn’t interested beyond some intense
make-out sessions (you can fill in the blanks) and the above mentioned activities.
And you know what, dear readers, that’s totally ok.
Sometimes the story of how you met has to involve kissing teenagers, 10 years apart, two different countries and a chance meeting at a pub.
Other times you just need to swipe right.