How I used to roll my eyes when people would say that love comes at unexpected times and when you are not looking for it; for a single person there is no way to understand what that means nor believe it to be true until you find yourself repeating the same adage. And, while I like to think myself cliché free, I have found myself repeating that adage in one form or another. I should note, however, that I think that adage is more in line with the “a watched pot never boils” philosophy rather than some magical happenstance. At any rate, I found love on an otherwise routine Saturday evening.
When people ask us how we met, we always say, “There are two stories”
Dave’s story is as follows: “Michael and I met at Fugazi, (a gay bar in Buffalo). He of course came over to me, since he was mesmerized by my pretty face, as most people are (Dave is given to hyperbolics). We exchanged information and chatted online for a little bit and then went on our first date at Butterwood Bakery.”
And like a well oiled comedic duo, me playing the straight man, I would say “We met on Gay.com”
My version is the correct one. And henceforth is the truth of our “Two stories, one heart.”
