Kevin was rounding the last year of his Internal Medicine residency as I was halfway through my first year of pharmacy residency training in Temple. Wrapping up with my preceptor that day, I was readying to give my final presentation when his phone rang. A serendipitous call to immediately leave work and head to drinks at the local steak house. My preceptor was adamant that I come, to the point, much to my chagrin, of providing me with two options: present my journal club or head to the bar. While I was shy, I wasn't a fool. To the bar we went. As we left the hospital the torrential downpour began. By the time I made it to my car, my hair and clothing were soaked, sticking to my skin in the most unflattering of ways. I headed downtown, regretting my decision to go, but nonetheless continuing to drive. After parking what seemed to be at least 3 blocks away and, again, facing the wrath of the rare Temple monsoon, I finally made it inside. At this point you might be thinking, how romantic! But let me be clear, I was not cute. I looked like a wet dog after a 10 hour shift. I made my way over to the small gathering, sat down, and ordered a drink. Not two sips in, people at the table started to sing Happy Birthday. I looked around in horror and confusion. Surely I hadn't, but apparently I had. I had unknowingly crashed a birthday party of someone I had never met. And recognize, this wasn't the type of gathering where you could conspicuously sneak out the side door. Mortified, I tried to nod and smile along thinking of an exit strategy. There was none. A few minutes later Kevin came and introduced himself and politely acknowledged that he had never met me before. After an hour or so of small talk we went our separate ways. Three months later I ran into him again, with the now infamous opener of "I think I was at your birthday", and it all began.