Tuesday, February 25, 2014

How I Met Your Father




I am a "How I Met Your Mother" obsessed. After watching last week's episode, I started thinking about the story I would tell my kids in 2030:

Kids, it was the year 2009.
I had been planning this trip for quite a while now. I was the very first student from my university to go on the brand new exchange that had just opened up with a New Zealand university. At the time, I had a tendency to leave things until the last minute, and my student visa was no exception (as you know, now I am super productive and never ever procrastinate!). My flight was due to leave on a Sunday morning, and I received my passport on Saturday afternoon. All thanks to my mom who had coincidentally been in the city where they were processing my visa and brought the passport to me that Saturday.

Fast forward one week, and I was about to start my first class at the university. I was scanning the other students beforehand, you know, to find the cutest one and sit next to him. Then I saw him. Your father was there, leaning against a wall, apparently oblivious to the rest of the world. All chunky headphones and messy hair. I immediately knew I had to sit next to him.

Kids, you know your father can sometimes come across as talkative and sociable. That wasn't one of those days. When I introduced myself and asked what had happened the previous week, he bluntly replied with "I wasn't here.". I tried again, asking what his name was. "Sean" was his one-sentence response. So that's that, I thought. See ya! I'll sit next to that not-so-interesting-looking dude in the front row next week.

To my surprise, when the class finished your father approached me and said something about how the other campus was better or something. I think he knew I would have no idea what he was talking about. When I said that it was my very first class there and I had been in the country for less than a week (!), he immediately assumed the role of travel guide. We both had an hour break, and we spent it talking about Colombia and New Zealand and the university, his job, and our thoughts on climate change. Fine, maybe not that last one. But by the end of that short hour, I felt like I had known your father forever. I knew he was a guy I wanted to talk with for many more hours.

When I had to go to my next class, your father asked for my number. I gave it to him, without much hope that he would act on it. But that very night I was bored in my room, reading "Eclipse" when I heard that distinctive ping from my cellphone. I grabbed it and sure enough there was a text that read: "Hey it's your friend Sean. I am just at work and thought I'd text you.". It took me a second to figure out who he was, because if I am being totally honest, when he said his name in class I thought he'd said "John". (I know they sound nothing alike, but what can I say). When I finally realized it was the cute guy from class, my heart started beating a little faster.

I made sure that on our next encounter, I wasn't spilling barbecue sauce from my sandwich on my shirt. I cleaned up a little and he invited me for lunch. This may surprise you, but back then I was quite the fuzzy eater (hard to believe, I know, with me being a vegetarian and all) and your father considered not asking me out again for a moment. But I suppose he couldn't resist my foreigner charm and that's why all three of you are sitting here today (Tommy, who came only 14 months after that very day; and Isabelle and Olivia who came much much later).




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1 comment :

  1. Nice story!!
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    ReplyDelete

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