By approximately 10pm on July 31, 2014, the sweat, and other residual evidence of having run a 5k in Van Cortlandt Park, had nearly dissipated. Some friends, my brother, Zac, and I had chosen a bar, Inwood Local, as the setting for our usual method of balancing out our exercise with consumption. As the night shifted from a sit down dinner to drinks at the bar, another group entered the Upper Manhattan watering hole. One of the members of that group caught my eye as a singularly attractive woman, but at first I did not have the guts to strike up a conversation. Fortunately, I had the benefit of being with my younger, taller, and far more eccentric brother. As Zac’s 6’5” danced to 90s hip hop, testing the capacity of the narrow aisle of the bar, he caught the attention of the group that had recently entered. I had my opening. I do not remember what was first said between us, but I do know that both Maria and I inquired as to the other’s age. We both found the responses satisfactory enough to continue the conversation. I do actually wonder what age would have been the conversation ender as I was (newly) 29 at the time. We shared a few laughs, and I very slyly told Zac to leave ahead of me, and “I’ll catch up.” In fact, I did catch up several minutes later, bragging about how I had gotten the Pretty Girl At The Bar’s number- a significant accomplishment for a Thursday night; I was sweating again, profusely. “Maria Hoboken” and I began texting almost immediately.

It was a July 31, 2014. A Thursday night, and I had just finished practicing Bikram yoga with a good friend when we decided to get dressed up and grab some drinks in Upper Manhattan. We arrived at Inwood Local and sat at a hightop table by the bar. Nearby was Matt, his brother, and their friend. I was having a great time drinking and chatting with my friends when we struck up a conversation with Matt’s brother, Zac, and their friend. Matt returned from the bathroom, and we all introduced ourselves. Matt and I began chatting and getting to know each other, until we realized we both forgot each other’s name. So we reintroduced ourselves. We talked until Matt’s pals decided to leave. Matt told them he’d catch up- that was when he asked for my number. Of course, I gave him my number, so I was then known as “Maria Hoboken.” He texted me later that night, and he was saved as “Matt Inwood.” The rest is history... with our actual last names.