🌻A Meet-Cute
A quick story about the time I met my husband.
A small crowd of twenty-somethings are milling about in the front lobby of a conference center hotel. I’m standing toward the edge, chatting with my new favorite acquaintances — two boys I met moments earlier, who, like me, are here to find out if they want to join a research group here for graduate school. They’re about to become my two best friends, but none of us know that yet.
Neither of them are main characters in this particular story, though.
I’m feeling pretty fine — I’ve learned that many of these people are here this weekend to interview; they don’t even know if they’ll get into Michigan State this fall or not. I’ve got a scholarship offer in my pocket; I’m being recruited.
Looking out over the group of mingling strangers, a thought pops into my head: I wonder if there are any cute boys here.
I scan the crowd, not seriously on the prowl, but humoring the intrusive thought nonetheless. Nah, not really.
Well OK, maybe him.
Someone does stand out. Beard trimmed short, mop of great hair, seriously blue eyes, and wearing one of his signature (though I didn’t know it at the time) white short-sleeved button-up shirts.
Definitely him.
It’s February 2012, and we’re at the Plant Sciences Recruitment Weekend at Michigan State University. We’re figuring out if we want to go to MSU, and if MSU wants any of us there for graduate school in the coming fall.
All I have figured out so far is that Andy Funk is a smokin’ hot hottie.
The weekend will mostly consist of activities such as touring the facilities. If I am remembering correctly, I don’t meaningfully cross paths with Andy until a social event one night, at the local East Lansing undergrad party bar microbrewery, Harper’s. I try to convince Andy to come with our smaller faction somewhere else (I believe it’s “dancing”), but he declines.
One of the nights, we all go to a MSU hockey game. Andy Funk happens to sit behind me in the arena. When the t-shirt cannons come out, despite my lack of true enthusiasm for MSU or hockey, I want a t-shirt, bad. Or maybe I just want the thrill of catching one.
Alas, I am not one of the lucky few. But Andy Funk is. He catches the shirt, and hands it right to me. Me!! Swoon.
Still, we don’t really get a chance to chat.
On the final day, our gaggle of prospective students trickles in to the Lansing airport to return home. I’m wearing my favorite navy blue tunic top, a purple skinny scarf, and probably white skinny jeans (#2012).
Andy and I are waiting at the same gate, making small talk. I tell him I’m going to school for field ecology, and he tells me I “don’t look like the tromp-around-in-the-woods type.” I am incredibly pleased.
Turns out we’re on the same flight, me flying home to Chicago and him connecting through O’Hare to go back to D.C.
I board the plane and take my seat, and an older gentleman sits down next to me in the aisle seat. When Andy Funk comes down the aisle, he stops at the man, and says, “excuse me sir, would you consider switching seats with me? This here is an old friend of mine, we’d love to catch up.”
Swoon.
If I wasn’t already completely charmed, I am now. I don’t remember much of what we talk about, except that he mentions liking Steely Dan and asks whether I go to church.
In Chicago, we walk together through O’Hare until it’s time for Andy to peel off toward his next gate while I head on to the baggage claim. We enthusiastically agree to keep in touch and to let each other know whether we choose Michigan State for graduate school.
We don’t exchange numbers. In fact, it doesn’t even occur to me; it’s 2012 and all of my peers are chronically online. “I’ll friend you on Facebook,” isn’t said, it’s assumed.
An unknown amount of time later — probably the second I get home — I hop online to look up my new friend. But he’s not on Facebook.*
I search around for an email address — I know he’s working at the USDA in D.C., but he doesn’t appear on any staff pages. I know he went to the University of Florida, but he doesn’t appear on any student pages, either. He’s not even on LinkedIn.
Finally, I find proof that he exists: on Twitter. But I’m not on Twitter. Do I … join Twitter just to connect with him?
I consider it for days, but in the end settle on the fact that I’ll have to just let it go. I add “Reeling in the Years” to all my playlists in his honor, and that’s the end.
Will young Anna ever cross paths with the one, the only, Andy Funk again?!
Andy declined to comment on the above summary of events, saying, “I trust you.”
Also, so that none of you walk away with the wrong idea, I will add that in previous conversations over the years, Andy has made it rather clear that I made essentially no impression on him at the time. Apparently he’s just naturally charming, and I happened to be caught in the crossfire!
*Also also, for the record, he was on Facebook, but had his account set to private, and so didn’t appear when I searched. Humph!
Lololol that was fun. My last few posts were getting too far into “opinion piece” territory, so it’s high time we got back to the task at hand: Storytelling. This one happens to be one of my favorites, for obvious reasons. There’s no deeper meaning here, really, except get the dang phone number!
As for life in the present day, we had a fabulous jaunt to Chicago and back last weekend, just enough time to see our friends M.A. and A.M. get married at the lakeshore. As it were, these are actually two Kansas City friends who happened to move away — to my home town.
As a bonus, we got to experience some of Brood XIII at my parents’ house in Naperville. Sadly it was rather overcast and cool, so we didn’t get to hear the chorus at full volume.
Mom is NOT a cicada fan. I thought it was neat, but I don’t have to live with them 🙂 The map tells me Kansas City is on deck for Brood IV in 2032. Bring it on!!
Have a great weekend, y’all!
✌️
Getting the dang phone number is so important! I was completely oblivious when Jenn offered to add me on Facebook when we first met, saying "I don't use Facebook". She graciously gave me her phone number instead despite this and it all ended up working out pretty well!
Cute story.