The Story of Us: The (Not-So) Sexy Somersault

The “Story of Us” will be a series (unless I get lazy), so if you want more, please leave a comment to get me off my ass!

The Beginnings of Us

I’ve decided to start blogging weekly about funny moments over the last 11 years, appropriately titled: The Story of Us.  People like to get a little insight into our lives that are both funny and COMPLETELY ridiculous! Plus, I want to combine my work AND my life on my blog…because I CAN! Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll have Peter write a few guest posts…

So let’s start with the somersault.

I should have known what I was getting into.

Back in 2006, I had just returned from my year abroad in France, and I thought I was SO cool.  In fact, upon coming home, I started dating a French musician who was living in San Diego. A few months into our relationship, he mentioned that he had a friend that I HAD to meet (who he had met at a party a few weeks prior). This picture below is from that VERY party (circa summer 2006), courtesy of the host, who I met years later. I’m not sure if this makes me nostalgic or makes me question the choices I’ve made in my life.

From left to right: Random dude I don’t know, French piano guy, the ex-boyfriend from HS, and Peter (who still looks like this on any given morning). Yup, I dated 3/4 of these gentlemen. Don’t judge me. What’s more insane is that they all ended up meeting and loving each other!

Sooo…his name was Peter, and he was from Hungary.

I didn’t overthink it, but I distinctly remembering French guy playing a message on his old school land-line phone recorder (I forgot what they’re called) and hearing Peter’s voice for the first time.  My first thought, “Jesus, that guys talks a LOT!”

Fast forward to the following Friday night at Hooleys.

I walked in and saw Peter sitting in his white pilot shirt (which he was wearing so people would know he’s a pilot), drinking a beer. We exchanged a casual “hey,” and proceeded to chat the night away. A few hours in, someone had the brilliant idea to ditch the Irish bar and go to a gothic bar down in North Park, and I thought it sounded like a great idea! (Whatever, I was open to anything ridiculous, being 22.)

The bar was empty, so we grabbed a few drinks at the bar and sat next to the dance floor. French guy and I were chatting about cool people stuff, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the disco light hit Peter RIGHT as he was doing a full-blown somersault on the empty floor.  I was a *tad judgmental and turned to the French guy and said, “Oh my GOD, I’d be so embarrassed to be his girlfriend.” He laughed hysterically, and I thought I was the funniest person on earth.

As Brooklyn would say, “mom, that NOT nice, say sorry!” I know, I know, but I was 22, cut me some slack.

I’ll leave the rest of our uber romantic love story for future posts, but I will say, I exchanged emails with French guy a few years ago and told him I ended up marrying Peter and had two babies with him.

His actual response, “What????? What???? No way! Omg!!! Peter???? Pregnant??? I can’t believe!”

Trust me, dude, I’m just as surprised.

Check back weekly for more!