It was a Thursday night in late February 2009. I was exhausted from work, and to be honest, exhausted from life. Or rather, the romantic life. A month earlier I had finally, officially ended a two year relationship that had been teetering on the edge of destruction from almost the beginning. Two people who wanted different things and yet took (way too) long time to determine that once and for all.
So back to the Thursday evening when I went home from work debating whether I would actually go to the happy hour/night out for a newish friend's birthday. I told myself I'd nap, skip the happy hour part, and see if I felt up for the festivities a bit later in the night. I awoke to several messages from friends who were already out celebrating, encouraging me (and harassing me) to get out and get some drinks. So I did.
When I got to the bar where everyone was, I realized there were two groups. The one group was standing around high tops and consisted of the birthday girl's friends from a running group she volunteered with. The other group, my friends who I joined, were sitting at a table next to the standing group.
(Me and two awesome ladies who repeatedly left messages saying I needed to show up)There was very little interaction between the two groups, but that was fine for all involved. A good 15 minutes later another guy showed up and joined the standing group. And someone at our table whispered "Oh, that's the Scotsman" and we all diligently fell silent so we could try to hear an accent. And then all giggled when we did. And then fell back into our other random conversation and copious amount of pints. Another 15 minutes later myself and the two ladies above decide we're not going to eat at the bar, but that I need at least a slice of pizza before the next location (which is where the story gets really good). So we start to exit, telling the birthday girl we'll see her at the next stop, but before we make it down the stairs and out the door, the Scotsman steps in front of me, sticks out his hand and says "We haven't met, I'm Andrew" and gave me a great big grin. And after about 30 seconds turns to my friends and says "oh hi". We chatted for a minute and he said he wouldn't be able to make the next bar because of an early work meeting the next day and the three of us proceeded to give him a hard time for being such a lightweight (which of course now 17 months later, I fully realize is not possible for any Scotsman to be) and then walked out the door.
And I honestly did not think one single thing about it as we got pizza, got to the next bar, and ordered our next drinks. And then the rest of the group showed up, Andrew leading them in. He walked straight up to me at the end of the bar, ordered a drink and said he'd changed his mind.
(The first and only photo of Marrv from that evening - he did that strange pose quite a lot in the beginning, thank goodness he seems to have moved on a bit)This is where I now tell you that this bar, where we really "met" and where we began our courtship, was the infamous Bob & Barbara's - where on Thursday evenings (including that one) they host the best darn Drag Show ever. Along with their signature "Philly Specials" - $3 gets you a PBR and a shot of Jim Beam. And sometimes (including that night) those specials just go down like water.
We spent the rest of the night talking, and I couldn't believe how deep our conversations got right from the beginning. And of course cheering on Lisa Lisa ("the girl so nice they named her twice") and singing every Cher and Madonna song possible.