I met Edgar on October 3rd, 2006, having arrived in California merely days earlier on September 30th. It was the day before my first day of work in my new office, having relocated over two thousand miles from home. I had my roommate, Jason, as well as an uncle, aunt, and two cousins 70 miles away. That was all.
I remember the first time I saw him. Jason and I had stopped by the office so that he could show me how to get there and we could find our desks and meet our bosses. Jason was to be Edgar's supervisor, and their desks were located very close to one another. He was standing up, talking across the low cubicle wall to the person at the desk that faced his. He was wearing a button down shirt with the cuffs rolled up. His hair was longer than it is now. We didn't speak, but a smile was exchanged and I remember thinking "Hmmm, he's definitely the cutest guy in this office." I would find out later that his thoughts at that time were "Hmmm, nice ass."
The next two months were spent in a holding pattern. As employees of a call center we were chained to our phones, only released from those shackles for brief reprieves in order to pee and socialize for a few minutes with others. On my breaks I usually found my way over to Jason's desk, happily sparing a smile to Edgar whenever our eyes would meet. Our normal encounters happened on the phone; he was a part of the 'escalation team,' so whenever some bitchy ass caller wouldn't listen to me and wanted to speak with a supervisor, I called the escalation queue. And always got him. The universe was already trying to tell me something. THANK YOU, UNIVERSE. Every time he would answer he'd be all "Jeez, you again?"
He enjoyed those calls as much as I did.
During that time there was a subdued amount of flirting going on. He would sometimes stop on his way out in the afternoon to talk to another employee whose cubicle was next to mine, and that's when I spotted the Steelers lunchbox. Ouch. Being born and raised in Indiana, I am an Indianapolis Colts fan, and at the time was still smarting from the playoff loss in the divisional round to the Steelers the previous season. The Steelers had gone on to win the Super Bowl, and were currently floundering through their Super Bowl hangover while the Colts were tearing through the season that would end in their own Super Bowl ring. It allowed for some good natured ribbing and would ultimately lead us into our first date.
At the end of November, Edgar scored a promotion to be a supervisor in another department, a move that also landed him in a different office. On his last day, his friends in the office had a going-away party for him at a Dave & Buster's near the office. Jason was going, and since we carpooled together, I was going too. While discussing the impending plans for the evening, another employee involved in the conversation informed me that Edgar was engaged and cheating on his fiancee with another girl in the office. Considering my history with men, I was not phased by this (shockingly untrue) revelation.
I pleasantly found out while we were out that evening that he was not, in fact, engaged; he had recently come off of a three year relationship that ended badly. Score one for Amanda. The 'other woman' story hadn't been resolved yet, but hey, no ring, no problems. Edgar and I clicked from the beginning. He was visibly impressed that I was drinking dark beer in the biggest size draft that was offered, and pleasantly surprised when we started talking football that I could hold my own and knew what I was talking about. He, being a non-smoker, even went outside with me while I smoked a cigarette, what with me still being in my smoker phase. The next time he went to work, he even got some "Hmm, so, you and the new girl?" questions. We were clearly hooked. I drove home from the party that night with a smile on my face, normal smitten-girl scenarios playing out in my head about first dates, first kisses, marriage and babies. YES, GUYS, WE ALL DO THIS.
I didn't hear from him after that, but I never expected to; we were no longer in the same office, and we hadn't exchanged phone numbers. I thought my little fantasies would exist only in my head. Except it didn't stay that way. Thank God it didn't stay that way.
A couple of weeks after that party, I got to work one day to find an email in my inbox from him, saying that he just wanted to thank me for coming to the party and to tell me how much fun he had talking to me. Thus began a frenzied exchange of emails over the next several weeks, starting out innocuous enough but always having that flirting subtext. He bet me a dollar that the Colts would lose to the Dolphins the next Sunday; I took that bet, and upon winning came to work the next day to find a dollar under my keyboard--he had stopped at my office on his way to work to leave my prize for me.
He invited me to come out with him and another co-worker one evening to watch the BCS Championship game. I have no interest in college football whatsoever, but went in order to spend the evening with him, hurriedly reading up on the teams that were playing during my free time at work so that I could sound like I actually knew something about it. The other co-worker magically had to bail out at the last second; I still to this day cannot get Edgar to admit if he had a hand in that or if it was actually for real. We had beer and pizza at the Alcatraz at the Block of Orange, and after a tight hug upon leaving, we both went home alone. Obviously not the most ideal end to the evening, but I was proud of myself; I had turned over a new leaf in life that mainly consisted of not putting out until he bought me dinner.
The Colts went to the playoffs that year and the day before the wild card game, I got an email from Edgar asking me to text him during the game to let him know what was happening during the game; he and his brother were taking his mom to Disneyland that day for her birthday. Phone numbers were exchanged; a rapid flurry of texting happened during the football game, and thereafter the art of texting became an open form of communication in the increasing game of flirtation. The Colts were playing the Ravens in the playoff game the following week. He bet me the Colts would lose, I bet they would win, and he tasked me with setting the stakes. I took a deep breathe and I plunged. Happy Hour. Winner picks, loser pays.
I won.
We look back now and have officially chosen that Happy Hour as our first date. We met after work on that Wednesday night. January 17th, 2007. I knew by the time that we left the restaurant that I had just spent an evening with the man I wanted to marry. Neither of us wanted the date to end, so we walked to Starbucks and got some coffee. I made the move there of setting a second date: I invited him to come to my house that Sunday to watch the Colts versus the Patriots in the AFC Championship game. He walked me back to my car. He gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. I kissed his cheek back.
Then he kissed me.
THREE WHOLE TIMES.
I was in love.
He came over that Sunday to watch the game. The Colts won. So did I.
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