Rebuttal: A Fairy Tale

For those that read Kevin’s version of how we met, I think it’s clear that he may have over-exaggerated a few details. This is the tale of what really happened.

For a few weeks, I had been planning to attend UF Law’s Music Law Conference—not because I am a nerd but rather because I am a lifelong lover of learning and music. And at the time, I was considering going to law school. Like all things that require me to show up at a specified time, I promised myself I would wake up early and be there on time. But it was Saturday, and even for a working woman who is used to 8:00 AM starts to her days, 8:00 AM on a Saturday is just cruel (though it probably didn’t help that I had gone bar-hopping with my co-workers the night before). I’m still not sure how Kevin managed to be there before noon.

Of course, I was late, but not by much. I arrived around 8:10, furious with myself but prepared to issue the appropriate apologies as necessary. Besides, being a little late doesn’t really matter when you look as cute as I thought I looked. I was wearing an adorable new dress, and my bangs were nearing perfection. And I was newly single, so I was ready to go full-concentration mode on this seminar. The last thing I was going to do was scan the room for datable men.

The cost for attending this event included breakfast and lunch. As I was approaching the entrance, I noticed two men walking parallel to me, their arms full with breakfast supplies. Suddenly, one of them dropped a gallon of milk. Again, newly single and working on my kindness towards others, I saw this as my opportunity to get a good deed in for the day. I hurriedly changed course, scooped up the milk jug, and locked eyes with the non-dropper. Though his arms were overflowing, he managed to offer me his little finger and said:

“Here, you can put that on my pinky.”

Guys, for real, it was like meeting Gaston.

Note: Kevin is not roughly the size of a barge.

“No, it’s okay, I can take it for you,” I said.

So I followed them to the breakfast area, only to find that I was the first one there (aside from those hosting the event). I guess 8:00 AM means something else in law school.

Having earned 10 karma for my good deed, I then focused on making breakfast for myself. I toasted a bagel and waited patiently as the coffee was brought in (catered by Panera). One of the event staffers noted that Panera had only brought one bucket of decaf. In a booming voice loud enough for all (and by all, I mean the six people who were there “early”) to hear, that same non-dropper guy gawked, “Who drinks decaf!?” (I should also note that he made eye contact with me during this interjection, which I interpreted as his version of flirting.)

Sheepishly, I raised my hand.

What followed was a never-ending silence that I had to break, so I said, “I have issues with caffeine.”

Finally, someone else said, “No problem, here’s the decaf!” and I felt slightly less awkward.

Decaf and bagel in hand, I sat alone, eating, observing, and waiting for the event to begin. Perhaps because I had kindled his curiosity, or perhaps because he felt sorry for the girl sitting by herself who had been damned to a life of decaf-only coffee options, non-dropper guy came and sat with me. He introduced himself (“Hi, I’m Kevin”), and the conversation flowed easily as we discussed our pets, my half-blue eye, our shared love of coffee and bagels, summer jobs, fire-bellied newts and the fact that they can regrow their limbs, and probably Harry Potter (I don’t remember, but knowing us, I feel like it happened).

Eventually, the event began, and though it was interesting, I caught myself glancing over my shoulder occasionally, curious as to Kevin’s seating location. In true Kevin fashion, he skipped about half of the morning lectures and finally appeared (and sat in the back) for the last seminar of the morning.

When the lunch break came, I made myself a plate and again sat alone, observing other people and lazily reading a book. I noticed that Kevin was sitting at the check-in table several yards away, and I noticed that he was checking my whereabouts every so often, and I noticed that he noticed that I noticed him noticing. But I am a dreadfully shy person, and there was no way I was going to just walk up to a stranger and start talking. And I was newly single and not looking for anything…remember?

After what seemed like hours of Twilight-esque glaring at each other, Kevin finally approached me. He asked me more serious questions: what was I doing here, what did I do for a living, what did I go to school for. We chatted for about 15 minutes before he said he had to go; he was heading to the springs with some friends. (Are you keeping track here? Kevin only attended one hour of the morning lecture and was completely skipping the afternoon series! Later, I would discover that this also happened to be his general approach to law school.)

“But can I have your number? We should get coffee sometime.”

I hesitated for what felt like forever. Yes, I would love to get coffee! This Kevin guy was charming and handsome, and I was completely surprised that he liked me and wanted to see me again after only speaking with me for maybe 30 minutes. Let me be clear: this had never happened to me before. Up to this point, I had met all of my boyfriends at school, band practice, or work, so giving my number to a random guy (while I was sober) was a very new experience for me.

But I was single and not looking to date anyone!!!

Alas, I replied, “Sure,” and pecked my specifics into his BlackBerry.

Too excited to sit through an afternoon of boring lectures, I too snuck out and went home, giddy with excitement and the idea of new beginnings.



The Dress: How bad is it?

The Dress

The Dress

Rebuttal: The Dress

Hello, blogosphere. I can’t believe it’s been nearly a month since my last post, but Kevin and I have been pre-occupied with Kevin’s latest and most ridiculous idea (aka, my newest and biggest life-draining, time-sucking chore): buying a house. But more on that later. Something else is long overdue.

Kevin maliciously berated the dress I wore when we met in his first and only post–which, to me, read more like a call to arms. So this is my retaliation. Here is me in the notorious dress:


I had to scour the closet and dust it off a bit because it has been living in secret ever since Kevin shared his true feelings. It has been downgraded from a “super-cute, multi-functional sundress” to a “sometimes-appropriate work dress.” The way he talks about it, you would think the dress had a scarlet letter “A” sewn into its pattern; on the contrary, Kevin thinks the dress is the living embodiment of the scarlet letter itself.  (I guess you could call the pattern a Hester Prynnt??) (Sidebar: Kevin didn’t get this pun, and that makes me very sad, which is why I added a link.)

It’s at least a little cute, isn’t it? Plus, I was 10 pounds heavier when Kevin met me, so I filled it out even more (read: bigger boobs). When paired with heels, it makes my legs look amazing.

And for the record, my grandma’s couches are covered in purple velvet, not a pattern. (Really, Grandma? I’m proud you broke the old-lady-couch-print stereotype, but what were you thinking?) I think a purple, velvet dress would have been a lot more visually insulting than this cute, floral print, am I right? And hotter, in the temperature way.

If Kevin hates floral-print dresses, I really don’t know why he initially found and continues to find me attractive. I must have a super pretty face and/or be the coolest person alive, because before he came into my life (and wardrobe…and re-did my wardrobe), my closet housed a slew of floral-print dresses with pockets. It’s just what I like. (I also like skinny jeans, but Kevin has no complaints about those. And really, would any guy?) To his credit, he has taught me that I can like and buy other types of clothing too (and I have), but I’m still a sucker for any dress with pockets. (In fact, any dress without pockets might as well ship itself back to Indonesia and stay there until it learns its lesson and gets some pockets sewn in.)

The day we met, Kevin was wearing Lucky jeans and a white Adidas pullover jacket. There is nothing wrong with this combo (or maybe I’m not as judgmental as he is), but it’s easy to criticize others’ wardrobes when all you have to do to be attractive is pair jeans with anything (except this shirt). And Kevin doesn’t have hair, so that is one less thing he has to consider when readying himself. Standards for guys are so frustratingly low. At least Kevin’s wardrobe includes more regular, adult shirts than got-this-for-free-at-a-college-sporting-event-in-my-early-twenties shirts. That sealed the deal for me.


Outtakes: Trying to Take a Picture of the Dress

I asked Kevin to take a picture of me in the dress. I just needed a simple photo; I wasn’t really concerned with lighting or background. This is a blog post, not glamour shots. (Did your mother ever make you do these? Mine did.) Here is the first photo:


Pretty bad, but not terrible. Instead of just adjusting the lighting, Kevin decided we needed to go outside, in the 5:00 PM setting sun, and take more photos. Kevin’s photography skills are so great that he made me face the sun so that I would be fully lit.  Who cares if my face is pretty or even bearable to look at. Here is the rest of the terrible shoot:

IMG_1144“Kevin, you don’t know what you’re doing! Let me see my camera!”

IMG_1145“See, Carly? Too many shadows.”

And finally:
Staring into the Sun: A photographic journey by Kevin H.

IMG_1148 IMG_1149IMG_1147

We aren’t the world’s most photogenic people, but hopefully this isn’t indicative of what our engagement or wedding photos will look like (when we get around to scheduling those….).