Head Over Flats: Part 1 of 2

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“Does it bother you that I’m shorter than you?” he asked, glancing back at me over his shoulder and squeezing my hand as we walked to the car.

I blinked at him a few times in the California sun.  The question didn’t register at first.  Bother me?  How could anything about this man possibly bother me?

I mean, I had certainly thought about it enough leading up to coming here.  The height thing.  But in the blur of the past few days, it was funny to me how much it didn’t matter.  In fact, it was to the sickening point where I might have actually preferred it.

…

But I guess I should back up.  The whole story.  From the beginning.  Because this shit is too damn good to keep to myself.

It all started a stormy night (lies) in March.  I have no idea how long this will take for me to tell, but whatever.  

Lezzgo.

Sometime in early March, good ole SO@24 commented on a post asking if I lived in NYC.

I e-mailed him back, “No, Rhode Island.  Unfortunately.  Why?”

“I’m going to be in New York for work next weekend.  I wanted to meet up.”

From there, we started e-mailing about everything and nothing (A/N: “everything and nothing” is just the beginning of the vomit-worthy, unoriginal cliches that are going to be dropped in this series.  I can’t help it.  I’m sorry.)

In true SO fashion, he offered up his gchat soon and his phone number not long after.  On my birthday, I sent him the first drunk text.

Two days later, I got a drunk dial.

The next day I got a sober dial.  And then every single day after that.  More texts. And calls.  And after seven days (yes, you read that right.  Seven fucking days is all it took.)  I booked a spur-of-the-moment ticket to go see him in LA.  The Saturday after I booked the ticket, I got drunk (are you sensing a theme here?) and wrote this cheesy ass shit:

- From our first words, we could not stop.  Not stop laughing, not stop talking, not stop asking each other questions, not stop finishing each others sentences, not stop wanting to be in contact 24/7.

- We talked every day last week.  For hours.

- I got drunk on Friday and, after a +1000 line gchat conversation and a lot of eHandholding, just went for it.  And yes, he offered to come to me, but I have never been to LA and I am currently unemployed, so the better option was for me to go to him.  Also Rhode Island is tiny and cold.  Also he is taking me to Disneyland.  

Q&A

Q. Are you aware that this is batshit insane, desperate, lame, incredibly weird, insane, and also insane?  

A. Absolutely.

***

Q. Do you care?

A. Hmm.  Yes and No.  Read on.

***

Q. But you do know what this looks like, right?

A. What, you mean that I am going to be labeled as a crazy, desperate fool who is flying across the country to meet someone from the internet after only a week?  I would actually agree with that.  I. Fucking. Concur.  But… is that label enough to say no?  To turn away from something spontaneous and fun and possibly really exciting?  Not for me.  Believe me when I say, I know what this looks like.  I’m no fool (or am I?).  But, when it came down to it, I have never met anybody that has made me laugh that much and consumed my thoughts within a week, ever.  And is there a chance that it is not real, that I am clinging to the attention, to the thought of this person, and not the real person?  Yes.  But there is also a chance that I am supposed to really know this person.  A big chance.

***

Q. Why the hell are you subjecting yourself to blogging about it?

A.  See, a weird thing happened the first time SO and I talked.  There were no cards to hide or show.  No strategies.  No (p p p p p p) pokerfaces. What would be the point?  We live across the country from each other!  It was the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced.  I’ve known where he stood every minute of every conversation and (I hope) vice versa.  Nothing here is new to him, there’s nothing I could say about him that he would be surprised by and (I hope) vice versa.  

Additionally, if you are reading this, chances are you understand a little something about blogging.  Yes, it is honest, but it is also condensed, editorialized, dumbed down or played up, etc.  So, in this world of blogging that we all love… why not?  Why not share this crazy thing I am involved in?  Who wouldn’t want to read about two (semi-insane) bloggers who have only been speaking for a month meet up for a weekend of who-the-fuck-knows-what?  

And if we both tried to be all stupid-secretive about who each other was, well… that’s just arrogant and pointless.

***

Q.  Are you going to sleep with SO@24??!?  OMG, he needs to get laid, please say you are going to sleep with him.

A.  Fuck you.

***

So it was done.  I had my ticket.  I had this person.  I had never done anything like this before.

And I am going to write about it all.  You must understand if you are going to read this though, I am in a strange state right now.  As Shorty said when I talked to her a few days ago, “WHERE IS THE REAL BETH?!?!”  Because in the past, I would have puked all over someone who is acting the way I am acting right now.

I’m floating around with giant pink hearts in my eyes.  I actually possess a picture of SO and I KISSING on a BEACH.    I won’t listen to anything that doesn’t have the lyrics “now that we’re one now!” in it.  Chocolate covered strawberries are appealing for the first time.  Bearskin rugs all of a sudden make sense.  I’m incapable of having an original thought that isn’t soaked in cheese.

And I couldn’t be happier.

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