I will regale you with the tale of how the boy and I started dating. Gather round
Last February ('15) was my 30th birthday. And all of my friends were in town because we had mentor training. So we went out to the coolest bar. (Ok ok it's the cheapest bar)
After I had imbibed roughly 12-14 shots in the span of 2 hours (some were mixed so I think I was juuuuust under a toxic blood alcohol level) I forgot that some people value personal space.
That was when I noticed the shy, awkward around girls guy and thought "this guy needs some serious Abs attention, I'm on it"
So I proceeded to grab is face and ask him, with my face approximately 3/4 of an inch from his, if he thought I was pretty. Now, he did think I was pretty but he might have said yes anyway because I can be a little aggressive, like not physically, just mentally, when I've been drinking.
After I'd ascertained that, yes indeed, he does think I'm pretty, I proceeded to inform him in drunken slurs that I "make vurrry good breakfasht". And when he said he's sure I do I then told him "NO! You don't gedit. Pancakesh and eggsh and hashbrownsh....." I told him this many... many times.
I remember none of this but received many second hand accounts of it.
A week later I got an invite from him to a "group hangout" and thought "Awwww snap, it's on"
Now tell me that doesn't rival Romeo and Juliette