Ask Jamie: How Jamie Met The Boyfriend

Caitlin asked: My next getting to know you question was going to be about the meeting and falling in love of pi.

Let’s make a long story short: University. Trip. Paris.

You want more? Okay, you shall get more…

I met the boyfriend the first time shortly after I started studying in fall 1999. That reminds me: Did I ever tell you what far-from-reality subjects I chose at university? I guess not. When I started I was a student at the departments for musicology, American language and literature and folklore studies.
When I quit I was a student at the departments for musicology, art history and sociology.
No wonder I never went for a degree.

The boyfriend was a student at the department for musicology (among others), so guess where we met.

Although I remember I liked him from the start and he says he did so, too, he prefers to start telling our story with the small and totally unimportant incident where I bitched at him.
Only I didn’t really bitch at him. Okay, maybe I did, but I didn’t mean to.

Additionally to being a student there he worked at the department for musicology. He was doing a weekend workshop for one of the classes I went to and one day when the class was over he asked me if I would like to come to the workshop on Saturday.

My response was: ‚Yeah, like I’m going to spend two hours in the train on a Saturday just for that workshop.‘

Maybe I bitched a little.

Nevertheless we seemed to like each other. Looking back I would even say that I was unnaturally attracted to him despite being in a relationship with someone who lived on the other side of the ocean.

Then came Paris. It was a student’s weekend trip to the City of Love in late January 2000. I told the boyfriend that I would be going and he said he was thinking of going, too, but didn’t know if he could make it.

When I was waiting outside the department on Friday afternoon I was – again unnaturally – happy to see that he indeed had decided to come to Paris.

From the moment we got into the car we were pretty much inseparable. I don’t really know why or how, but we were. We took turns in driving (only I didn’t drive) and the moment it was his turn to drive it was clear that I would be the front-seat passenger.

As for the trip, it was pretty much one of the best trips I ever had. Pure fun, great people and the unnatural tension going on between the boyfriend and me, it was just amazing.
The boyfriend and I, of course, were inseperable during the whole trip. Whenever the group splitted, we weren’t. We saw Montmartre, went up the Tour Eiffel and to a big flea market in the north. Somehow our sticking together despite even knowing each other was never questioned.

Saturday evening was weird. We roamed through the streets drinking wine like stupid teenagers and I drank too much. As in way too much. Pretty much the last thing I remember is sitting in some café with the video to Paul Simon’s Concert in the Park playing soundless in the background. See, Paul Simon I remember. I even know what concert it was. I can’t really tell you, though, if it was really soundless, because my senses were pretty blurry already. Everything that happened between that and the moment the boyfriend brought me back to the youth hostel where I could puke heartily into the sink I know from what the boyfriend told me. I have snippets of memories, but they’re not really nice and they’re all pretty confusing.

But what could be a better sign of love than cleaning up the toilet in a restaurant after someone you hardly know has lost most of last week’s meals in it?

(Needless to say, the last two paragraphs are not necessarily the parts of the story I am particularly proud of.)

While I was still in the bathroom, he had climbed up the ladder to my bed and when I came out I did so, too, and we ended up hugging and kissing.

Paris, after all, is the City of Love. It worked for us.

When we got back it got a little bit complicated. We were both in a relationship with someone else and we both had to figure out what we were going to do. All the time between January and May it was unclear what was going to happen with us, but in the end, we both ended what was before and have been together (and pretty much inseperable) ever since.

Unlike other couples we don’t have a date. You could take the Paris trip as our date, but since it took us some time to finally decide what we were going to do, we weren’t a ‚real couple‘ until early summer.

But, do you really need a date? I think not.
The love makes up for all.

Question answered?