THAT'S AMORE

I had committed to being single for a year when I moved out west on my 27th birthday, and based on my track record, I didn’t expect that to be a problem. What I never anticipated was that an innocent outing to repay Natalie’s unwavering friendship with cocktails—after she had held my terrified cat, who rarely leaves the house, in the car for over 48 hours—would essentially change my life forever. After googling "best fun & cool place to dance in Venice," we headed straight to The Brig, only to be confronted with the longest line I’d ever seen for an exceptionally average bar. We tried to work our typical Kansas City charm on the doorman, but he remained unimpressed. Back to the end of the line we went. We waited for over 20 minutes without budging, so Natalie ventured off to find the second-best fun and cool place to dance in Venice while I held down the fort under unforgiving yellow-hued streetlights. Suddenly, I became hyper-aware of the collection of boys behind me. They were laughing loudly when I heard one of them say, “We’ve got at least another hour before we make it in.” Immediately, I turned around to the group to clarify. My patience was dwindling, and I was in desperate need of reassurance. I mentioned if that was the case, I was leaving. The boys sprang into action, assuring me we would get in soon and that they would accompany me in line until then. They lured me in with good vibes, pocket shooters, and the rapid passing of time. Next thing I knew, Natalie was back, we joined forces with the boys and we were on the dance floor when the house lights came up. Naturally, we accepted the invitation to the afterparty at the apartment where three of the guys lived. Although we weren’t sure what to expect, the rest of the evening turned out to be incredibly wholesome. The boys gave us a grand tour, made us drinks, and we played games for the rest of the night. It was a right of passage in their friend group to add a picture to the polaroid wall, so obviously we obliged. I vividly remember leaving the apartment and saying to Natalie, “I really liked the tall one.” The tall one was Patrick. ----- The next weekend, we were back at The Brig. I knew I wanted to see her again, but honestly, I was anxious just thinking about what I would say to capture her attention. As if on cue, she made her entrance with a group of friends and immediately b-lined to our table. I sat back and watched her work the room - it was easy to see this girl had never met a stranger. She was extremely chatty, yet so easy to talk to. We laughed together for most of the night. Even while mingling with others, her beautiful eyes kept meeting mine. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was intentional, so I hesitated, nervous to take my shot and miss. I don’t know if it was her abundance of confidence or the many ranch waters she had, but before I knew it, she was next to me asking, “Are you interested in me or not?” I shakily mustered up a, “Yes, very much!” Without missing a beat she said, “Then do something about it.” So that's what I did. The next day, I planned her initiation to Los Angeles. We headed up north on the PCH to spend the afternoon on the beach at Point Dume in Malibu, something I imagine she hadn’t had much experience doing being from the quintessential definition of a landlocked state. We sat for hours discussing anything and everything, never once running out of things to say. If you know Faith at all, you know the art of conversation isn’t a skill she particularly struggles with, but for me, this level of comfort and ease in conversation was rare. We quickly grabbed dinner and planned a date to the Dodgers game for the following week. The next morning, we met for coffee. And the adventures haven’t stopped since.