In all of my romantic relationships, I've struggled alongside my partner to develop mutual friendships. Sure, we would befriend each other's friends to varying degrees of success, but we rarely make new friends together, if ever.
I could spend the next 500 words exploring the various facets of the 'whos' and 'whys,' but I've actually already done that, and the answers are quite simple:
Who? Me.
Why? I'm introverted.
So imagine my surprise when I met Brad at the dog park earlier this week. He had come up to me and started chatting in the same way anyone starts chatting with anyone else at the dog park: "This one yours?" And by 'this one,' he meant the dingo-looking puppy getting trampled over by an overly friendly, goofy poodle. So yes, that one was mine.
We continued talking about dogs, parks, and the potpourri of topics one rattles through with a stranger. Meanwhile, Sam was off to the side with a work acquaintance, talking about hair (which is Sam's industry, in case this topic seemed random). Eventually, without transition or seams, Brad and I began talking about other things, less obvious things. I told him my name, and he said that Austin, TX is one of his favorite cities, a blue rescue boat in a treacherous sea of red. He blazed through a rapid summary of Ender's Game, shocked that I, an English major, had never read any of Orson Scott Card's work (who, as an aside, is a rabid homophobe, but I thought it too early to bring politics into the conversation). He described some of his experiences working for bigmuscle.com, an internet dating-ish kind of site for, well, big and muscly men.
Everything flowed smoothly, like we had known each other for quite some time already. I did not feel the usual self-consciousness or pregnant pauses when meeting someone for the first time. This was fun, light-hearted and meaningful at the same time, and I started wondering if Brad could be that elusive mutual friend I had been wanting. Sam and I had just had a conversation the other day about how we hardly ever go out anymore (mostly on account of Grr, but also because we are us) and we never meet new people together.
Right as I was telling Brad about my failed attempt last year at starting a book club with some friends, Sam sidled over, and Brad immediately turned to him and asked what kind of books he reads. Well, I thought, here's the dealbreaker; I'll hear from Sam later about how it was so pretentious to ask someone about literature right off the bat.
"Comic books, mostly," Sam replied.
"Oh cool! I love comics!" Brad said, and right as I expected to hear a recount of some Marmaduke antic or Garfield strip, he asked, "Marvel or DC?"
And off they went into their respective universes, babbling about the Incredible Hulk, Wonder Woman, Superman and some other Adjective+Noun heroes of the illustrated world. They also shared an interest in science fiction, something about a Dr. Who, and right when I felt like Brad could not be more perfect for us, he turned to me and said, "Now what are your feelings about Battlestar Galactica?" I just about died.
After staying at the park for over an hour, after even Grr wanted to go home, we got back in the car. I told Sam that we should try and be friends with Brad, whatever that means. (Hang out? Talk? Play? It seems so much easier as a kid, when those were essentially the only options available amongst friends. Can you imagine the awkwardness now when I ask Brad to come over to our house and "play?")
"Just make sure he's clear that this is not an invitation for a threesome," Sam instructed.
So no threesome. Got it.
But I could tell that Sam enjoyed talking with Brad, wouldn't mind seeing him in a context outside of pee-stained sand on which unruly pups abound. Same for me. Maybe this can be the beginning of something.
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