Chantal and Curt's Wedding Website

Chantal's Version

Curt's Version

I'd been on a lot of blind dates.  I'd been set up by friends, friends of friends, sisters of friends, co-workers, my grandmother, and virtual strangers.  By 2004, in fact, I'd compiled enough interesting (read: embarrassing) blind date stories (something about spinach being stuck in my teeth from the appetizer through dessert comes to mind) that I envisioned writing a best-selling novel which HBO executives would immediately buy the rights to.  (Think Carrie Bradshaw, though I was hoping the likes of Charlize Theron or Catherine Zeta-Jones would embrace my alter-ego). 

In February 2004, my college roommate, travel buddy, and longtime friend Kirsten called me to inquire whether or not I'd like to be set up.  I listened – skeptical, curious, and eager to add to my mental novel.  Kirsten explained that her co-worker, Debbie had approached her about this blind date potential.  But Kirsten had a boyfriend.  "So I suggested you," she explained.  "Sloppy seconds????" I thought to myself.  "What, just 'cause I've been single for a short lifetime she thinks I'll like any other single person who wasn't even supposed to be set up with me!?  And who is this Debbie woman anyway?"  I'd hit rock bottom I realized.  I was in a cold, dark, lonely place and there might be no way out.  As my hyperventilating subsided, I figured, "What the hell?" and welcomed the free dinner.  "Fine," I said to Kirst.  "I'll go out with him."  "Good," Kirst responded.  "You never know what can happen."

True dat.

-Chantal

My friend Debbie told me once in either late 2003 or early 2004 that she was going to find me a good woman.  I'm not exactly sure of her choice of words, but Debbie had either come to the realization that I was a great guy who simply hadn't had much luck with the ladies of late, or was involved in some sort of community service project and had identified me as an underserved population of one.

In any event, Debbie sent me an email sometime in February about a possible blind date set-up.  Now it wasn't with some she knew; rather, it was with someone one of her co-workers knew.  I like to call it a double-blind date or blind date once removed.  I guess Debbie had tried to set me up with this co-worker of hers at BSR, Kirsten.  She had just recently started seeing someone, whom she is no longer dating, but had another friend who was single.  I had been on many blind dates before, so I was game, even if no one knew us both in common.  I had somewhat recently gone out a couple of times with a woman I met in the parking lot of Home Depot (cleverly called by some of my friends "Home Depot Girl") so I clearly didn't have anything to lose.

-Curtis

I arrived early.  I have a tendency to do that (or be right on time) and it's fairly annoying when "fashionably late" is really the way to go when trying to be suave on a first date.  So I had the cab drop me off a couple of blocks before the restaurant and I killed time by walking around the one block repeatedly.  Who does that?

-Chantal

I'm not sure why, but for some reason I expected Chantal to be short with curly dark hair, though I had not received a physical description of her at all.  I headed over to SF after work and when walking up to Solstice, I saw a woman standing in the doorway (little did I know but she been pacing around the neighborhood for some time).  "Wow," I thought to myself.  "She's pretty hot.  I hope she's Chantal."  She was.

-Curtis

This will come as little surprise to many of you, but I thrive off of intense conversation and can't navigate small talk so well (it's genetic, my father's the same way).  I was often the girl in college having a deep discussion with a new best friend at the back of a loud, crowded, dive bar (shockingly, not so conducive to conversations on racial equality, religion, or gender stereotypes).  People would occasionally (okay, often) suggest that I not initiate such intense conversations on a first date, "You might scare them away, Chantal."  And I believe I did.  In fact, I'm quite confident that I scared many of them away. 

So I don't know whether to attribute it to my density or the raspberry mojitos, but in February of 2004, I still seemed to follow my unsuccessful pattern of dialogue.  "So, Curtis," I began (3-4.5 minutes after meeting while hanging out at the Solstice bar and waiting for our table), "Do your parents live in the area?"  "My parents got divorced about 10 years ago, so my mother is in Sunnyvale and my dad is in Sacramento," he responded.  "How did their divorce impact you?" I inquired (prodded), "Did it change your perspective on relationships or marriage?"  "Interesting question," he offered, and then continued to share insights on life in Curt Below emotional-post-divorce-world.

I don't remember his response, to be honest.  I suppose I was so shocked that he engaged (not proposed, that comes later) as opposed to darting for the bathroom or sucking down his remaining beer, that I didn't really pay attention to his insights (sorry, 'bout that).   So you see, try as I may, I still just can't seem to scare him off.

-Chantal

So we didn't have reservations.  I assumed that it wouldn't be a problem on a Wednesday night.  I was wrong and we had a 30 minute wait at the bar.  That really wasn't a big deal, because it gave us time to talk.  And by talk I mean the Spanish Inquisition, but in more of a Monty Python sort of way.  I discovered that Chantal likes to ask questions.  Lots of them.  However, I also discovered that I'm OK answering questions, particularly if they are coming from an attractive woman and I've had a couple of drinks.

I have to admit that I was a little bit surprised by the questions about marriage and relationships, before we'd even had an appetizer.  Typically, those types of questions scream, "Crazy woman desperately in search of husband!"  However, I was amazingly plussed.  (Actually, I'm not sure if that is word, but people used "nonplussed" all of the time, so I thought I would give it a shot.)

-Curtis

Don't believe a word he says.  This is all fact coming from me. 

Curtis dropped me off at my Larkin street abode after our first-date dinner.  Amid the sketchy noises coming from his 1966 Mustang (a vehicle which I've come to realize he has a strange obsession with), it was hard to hear much of what Curtis was saying, but I believe he said something like, "You're the love of my life, you're amazing, I'm unworthy, you're an angel, I can't wait to see you again, I want to see you as soon as humanly possible.  What are your plans for Saturday night?"  He then made some mention of being sick, thinking he was contagious, and not wanting to get me sick by giving me a goodnight kiss.

I think the audience can appreciate the pity I felt for the poor fellow.  He was desperately in love (borderline pathetic) and using illness (which had gone unmentioned prior to this point) as his way of avoiding rejection if he did in fact go in for the kill.  So I did what any compassionate, sensitive, empathetic young woman would do.  To ease his boyhood insecurities, I gave him a peck on the cheek and called it a night.  Thanks to my romantic gesture, Curt is the confident, ambitious, self-assured man he is today.  "Lucky guy," you're thinking.  My response? "Damn straight."

-Chantal

On Wednesday, I was about two days into a nasty cold.  Prior to heading over to SF, I had taken DayQuil, some nasal spray and some sort of fish paralyzer.  Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I was definitely under the weather.  I excused myself from the dinner table a couple of times to go to the bathroom to blow my nose, apologizing for my cold.

I offered to give her a ride home.  It was only the gentlemanly thing to do, after all.  On the drive to her place, I had decided that I wasn't going to play the wait "X" days to call her game ala Swingers ("Definitely, two days is like industry standard.").  I wanted to have our next date set before the first date ended.  So when I pulled up to her apartment, I told her that I had had a great night and wanted see her again.  I suggested Saturday night and she agreed.  Damn, I was smooth.

I next decided to continue demonstrating how chivalrous I was by telling her that I would have liked to give her a goodnight kiss, but because of my cold, I didn't want to get her sick, too.  What happened next surprised me, but it was a pleasant surprise.  She quickly leaned over and gave me a kiss, on the mouth!  Wow, she was willing to risk certain illness to give me a goodnight kiss!  Yeah, she was in to me.

-Curtis