The year was 2000 and I was living in what was roughly the Big Bang Theory apartment, but without all of the physics banter. Two of us worked at a web design firm during the day and came home to play EverQuest and watch various sci-fi TV shows at night (although he got far ahead of me because I had gotten involved in Junior Chamber). The third worked at a job he didn’t talk much about, coached debate (his real passion), and spent his off nights watching pro wrestling. We were all nice, considerate guys who got along well and rarely had visitors.
As the Leonard of the group, I was the bespectacled, fluffy haired one who was attracted to a woman who liked jerks and drama. What can I say, I had a White Knight syndrome until it got burned out of my system a few years later.
The girl in question was buddies with the women from my office, so I hit upon a cunning plan to invite them over for Valentine’s Day since their boyfriends were non-existent or fairly lame. My lure: having a guy cook for them while they watched Sex and the City on DVD and drank “girly drinks.” Of course the 6 women I invited turned into 9 as friends and sisters tagged along (if I remember, I don’t think the girl even showed up) so we chopped up the raspberry glazed chicken breasts and I made more rice and veggies. We had a blast chatting and drinking, so the more the merrier.
Somewhere during the cooking and DVD watching, the debate coach came home. I don’t remember if I had mentioned to him the fact that I was throwing a party, but he said hello to me, looked at the food I was slaving over, and then walked into the living room. All the girls turned to look at him and then he turned back to me in a look approaching utter shock, then proceeded to walk directly into his room and didn’t come back out until they were gone.
This story has been re-told time and again when I get together with one of my former office buddies and each time she probably embellishes his expression a bit more.
Image by Cali4beach (modified slightly)