Have I Met You?

I had fun with a meme that was recently going around Facebook. I got warmed up with the first one, then tried various things with the others. The status that many people took turns posting:

I want you to comment on this status about how you met me. But, I want you to lie. That's right. Just make stuff up. After you comment, feel free to copy this to your status so I can do the same.

The various responses I came up with:

When you were in the Secret Service, you investigated me because someone hacked my account and framed me for death threats to a presidential relative.

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We had a class together in grad school. Didn't really talk or get to know each other, but it was a small class. 16 or 17 years later we bumped into each other in the food court at the mall and instantly bonded over shared memories of how the professor always found a way to link marital issues to his lectures and would end up going on and on about his wife. At the time we had thought it was funny, but reflecting at the mall we just thought it was kind of sad.

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I was enjoying a romantic walk on the beach by myself under a full moon, when I accidentally stumbled into a rowdy bunch of sea turtles mid-orgy. They ganged up on me and were dragging me out to see, but luckily your Baywatch duties had you on wereporpoise watch that night and you saw what was happening and rescued me.

I'm pretty sure it was just another forgettable incident in your busy life, but the traumatic yet highly adrenalized emotional state I was in made the whole experience significantly memorable for me. In just the brief conversation after the rescue while you warmed me with coffee, you made a lasting impression.

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You were reading the latest harlequin romance on a sunny May afternoon at the park, when my frisbee bonked you in the forehead and left a significant gash. You refused my offer of a sweaty sock as tourniquet, so I ran off to look for help while you blindly waited as blood flowed freely into your eyes. An elderly couple claimed the wife was a retired nurse, but instead of worrying about the cut she immediately started performing CPR on you. After a highly inappropriate comment about being attacked by a hag, you mentioned I must have rolled a natural 20 on my frisbee ranged attack roll. That started talk of D&D, and you invited me to join your game later that night.

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I was Ben Kingsley's hair stylist for his role in Gandhi the day he went on a horrific tirade about how I was making him look like a deranged space monkey, calling me a number of names that increased my vocabulary significantly. You were supervising the extras, but noticed me standing in the corner trying to pull myself together and came over to comfort me. I'll never forget how you lifted my spirits, along with your honesty behind the life-altering advice that I may want to consider a different career path. In many ways, it led to me becoming the person I am today.

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It was during the week-long Ride through Moria bike tour. We were part of the group that on the third day got separated from the main pack by a cave-in. The conversation at the campfire that night got pretty intimate and intense, and you and I almost instantly bonded over our shared fear of choking to death on too-sticky peanut butter.

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We had walked into an Einstein Bros. at about the same time and were each trying to offer the other the next place in line. During the impasse creating by our contest to be the more acquiescing, a high-powered businessman jumped in front of both of us. We stared at each other amused disbelief for a moment, then gradually noticed the guy was being a total dick to the gal behind the counter. Things got uncomfortable for a bit, but then she deferred him with wit and underhandedly ripped him a new one, and we again rolled our eyes at each other in humor when we realized he totally missed the insult. When all the tables were full after I got my order, you offered me a seat with you. We struck up a good conversation and have been friends ever since.