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Boy Meets Girl In The Age of Facebook

Knowing how to start a blog is difficult. Intro posts have a nasty habit of becoming trite, and let’s be honest here: when’s the last time you actually read one? Can’t we all just skip to the juicy details and witty banter that comes when you’re three months into the process already? Sadly we can’t. Especially not here. Blogs are an invitation to step into the life of another person. A little voyeuristic treat for those internet surfers with a little too much time on their hands or an in-box at work that’s overflowing but can be ignored for just five more minutes before it becomes an avalanche that the National Guard needs to be notified of.

So let’s get to the basics:

For the sake of my fiance not feeling like I’m dumping TOO much of his personal life out on the wide web for generations to come I’ll call him The Beard. Which if you know us is currently ironic, but once upon a time there was a whole story as to why he’s called The Beard. For those of you that don’t know us or our story all you need to know is once upon a time The Beard had facial hair of epic proportions, a feature he was known for and upon meeting him a group of my friends lovingly dubbed him “The Beard”

For those interested in those juicy details I mentioned The Beard and I met in what very well may be the most cliched way possible: at a bar. Back in July of 2010 His band was playing and I was there with my best friend/co-conspirator/alibi provider who just so happens to run THE coolest cupcake company in Atlanta (don’t believe me? check out The Sugar Dolls and try some of her tasty concoctions. They’re not laced with any illegal substance but they might as well be. They’re that addictive).

So here’s the rough sketch of the big Meet/Cute (film slang for when the lead lovers meet):

Me: busty red-head in a pin-up dress selling miniature banana split cupcakes to drunken hipsters armed with sparklers and talking to anyone and everyone still sober enough to hold a conversation (which, let’s face it, it was 1AM and an Atlanta bar. That really narrows it down).

The Beard: cute guy in a suit that comes across in that Rabbi/Amish BUT sexy kind of way whose just played a kick-ass show to a sold out room full of said drunken hipsters.

It being the night before the 4 of July there were of course decorations. As the night wore down I found myself  holding a twine of sparkly stars with nothing to do with them. They’d done they’re duty as sparkly hat for the evening, but now it was time to retire them with dignity. So I did what any self-respecting cupcake girl would do with such a proudly patriotic item: I plopped it on the head of the person nearest me. Who just so happened to be The Beard himself. Of course if you’re going to adorn a complete stranger with what is admittedly a very embarrassing head piece the least you can do is strike up a conversation and introduce yourself.

What followed was a mix of talk, drunken antics, and of course cupcakes. What story is complete without cupcakes? And as the house lights were thrown on and the drunken crowd was wrangled out of the space The Beard made his big move:

He asked how to find me on Facebook.

That’s right folks! Because in 2010 phone numbers are passe, and if you want to pick a girl up you go straight for the Facebook.

The moral of this story? The way to any man’s hearts is a complex combination of three very important things:



And Facebook.