we're in love ....all because of a tupperware party

There I was, surrounded by plasticware, sitting alone on the couch in some stranger's house. Mostly, I looked at my hands, my lap, my feet. Mostly. Sometimes I would quickly glance up, wondering Where is she?, my friend, the giddy, happy, social-butterfly. Once again, she had disappeared. I took no offense. This was her night. Her co-workers. Me, I was simply too self-conscientious to interact. I was 22 years old.

I saw him talking to her. 

My friend was full of energy. She saw me sitting there alone. She approached me; asked if I was OK. I'm fine, I told her. She was off again. 

While I looked at my hands, I could sense someone watching. I knew without really knowing; instinct. He was looking at me. Did I dare look up? Yes, I dared. He was looking at me, smiling a genuine smile. I liked his smile. I looked at my hands again. Was I testing both myself and him when I decided to get off the couch and walk right passed him? I did need to use the little ladies room. He smiled as I passed by. I looked down. At my feet. Little did he know, I was a bit curious about who he was. Just a bit.

I didn't see him when I came out of the bathroom. But my friend saw me. 

"Come on! We're going to a night club!" She grabbed my arm and off we ran to my car. Two young girls, just wanting to have fun. Someone; some guy we didn't know, or at least I didn't know - maybe my friend did, approached my yellow VW Bug asking if we had space for one more. "Sure!" we both said. I guess I must have been feeling more social with the comfort of my friend next to me. The guy smiled, and then walked away. Interesting. In my rear-view mirror I saw him walking our way. 

"Oh, no. Oh. My. Gosh." I exclaimed. My friend asked me what was wrong. Nothing was wrong; except, "It's him," I whispered. "It's the guy who was staring at me." My friend laughed; she opened the door, pushed the seat forward, and let him crawl into my car.

"Hi." he said, his accent thick. Right then I knew, I liked him. 

During the ride, the three of us laughed. We were having fun. He called us California Girls. "You know, like in the movies," he said. My friend and I laughed. I felt flirty, so that's what I did, I flirted. I felt comfortable with him. He flirted back; flirting with his eyes. That's all I could see, were his eyes. When we arrived to the nightclub, my friend and I ran in. My shyness seemed to have disappeared, and I wasn't complaining; not one little bit!

We danced, he and I did. I kissed his cheek when the song ended. Aggressive; yet, so appropriate. When it was time to go, it was decided that our group wanted to stop at the local Denny's for some late-night munchies. My friend ran ahead, to catch up with her friends. 

 I walked slowly, with him. Neither of us was hungry. We wanted to go for a walk instead. 

We talked. 
We laughed. 
We grazed fingertips. 
We kissed.

We courted. 
We fell in love. 
We married. 

All because of a Tupperware party.