A couple weeks ago, I started dating a guy named Ethan.
In the past several weeks, we have discovered a few things. One is that we both love peanut butter.
One is that our relationship is not contingent upon peanut butter, peanut butter cookies, peanut butter cup pie, or peanut butter smoothies.
One is that we are both easily distracted by ducks.
One is that we make the same sound effect when imitating a hippo.
But the strangest discovery is probably that, individually, we are blessed with a peculiar set of stalking skills. Combine forces, and we become a spy team of no maximum accomplishments. We first discovered this when Ethan was complaining about his eavesdropping skills getting him into trouble. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help hearing your entire conversation, even though I was having a conversation of my own…” at which point, I suggested playing dumb, and acting like you’d only heard a snippet – because that’s what I do when I need to eavesdrop inconspicuously.
We later discovered that we remember people we really shouldn’t. He remembers the faces and full names of people whose ID cards he saw once at Taco Bell while they were paying for a taco. I once introduced myself to a neighbor as, “Oh, you’re Aine! I know you. I saw you play the bodhran in a concert in the Crabtree building three years ago in room 214.” It starts getting really awkward if either of us sees someone enter a password or a PIN, and I can’t tell you how hard it is for me to forget someone’s SSN. On top of this, our church callings could both be described as: get to know everybody in the ward, and make sure they’re taken care of. We’re semi-professional stalkers.
So, every now and again, as we’re walking across campus, we’ll cross somebody’s path. “That’s Kylie McQuarry. She was in my freshman ward. She’s really involved in the campus feminist groups.”
“Does she know you?”
I love us. ♥