Third time's a charm

"You were so not into me the first time we met," T.B. Player quipped on Sunday afternoon.

"That is not true," I said indigently, sure that I was blushing, furious that he knew.

"Sure it is. I'm like George Costanza."

"What the hell does that mean?" I say, now even more miffed. It's rare that a Seinfeld reference gets by me.

"He's got some great line about how it takes people three times of meeting him to really start liking him. That's like you with me."

"Humph," I grunt, mumbling something about how ridiculous of a statement that was.

Damn him.

The first night we met, I was sooooo not into him. Mainly because I was busy crushing on two other people at the time, and I felt like his friends were kinda pushing us together.

Two weeks later we met again. It was after the symphony, and he was still in his tails. He and the other musicians had beaten my friends and I to the bar that they knew we would be at. Let me repeat that - the actual performers had beaten us to the bar. My kind of people. I walked into the bar, saw that he was there and sighed. Great, another night of having this guy shoved down my throat. I went over to politely say hi and didn't leave his side for the next four hours.

A week and a half later, we had our first date, and I was hooked.

Damn him.