Pretty much this is how it went down:
I bought a house. I needed some paint work done.
Mom and Dad said to call Alek.
Alek is THE BEST, they said. Alek is meticulous, they said.
Alek is FUN to talk to, they said. We LIKE Alek, they said.
The problem was, Alek didn’t call me back. FOR WEEKS.
Apparently, Alek was busy.
Busy in Spain and Italy and driving across the country on his Harley Davidson to see rock concerts and getting stuck in hurricanes. You know, being Alek.
So I got another painter.
And then Alek called me back.
He said: “Let me guess, you got another painter.”
“Yes,” I said.
He said: “Let me guess, the other painter started today.”
“Yes,” I said.
And then we started talking.
And Alek sounded FUN. And Alek sounded CUTE. And I LIKED talking to him. So I invited him to my housewarming party. What the hell? I thought.
But Alek didn’t want to wait for that long so he called me back and asked me on a date. A blind-ish date. He said we should go get a beer somewhere. I said we should meet-up early in the evening in case he didn’t like me, so then he could do something else that night.
He said: “You’ve been watching too many movies.”
So we went on a date. And I showed him my house. And the horrible paint job. “That’s not going to get any better.” He said. (And he was right.)
And we talked until midnight.
Alek is FUN, I thought. Alek is CUTE, I thought. I LIKE HIM.
I still think that today. I’ll know that I’ll still think that when we’re 90.