Since 2009, How I Learned has featured some of the best live storytelling, comedy, and readings in New York City. It all happens a couple of times a year, and sometimes more than that, which basically means you'll have the best night of you life on those nights, repeatedly.

All My Stuff is Ghostwritten*

Friday, February 11th, 2011

In anticipation of last month's topic, How I Learned I Was Basically in Love With You, my boyfriend asked me if I was going to tell the story of how we fell in love. I was like, "Pffft, no! Who reads at their own series? That's so self-indulgent! This show isn't about me!" But I knew it was really important to him when he wrote this piece for me and handed it to me right before the show, delicately suggesting in this super-insistent way that I read it as my opener.

If you missed it, here it is, as written by my boyfriend, copied and pasted for your enjoyment. I'm sure he will be pleased to see his very own words on the world wide web for the rest of eternity. (Please note that any typos and grammatical errors are his.) Happy Valentine's Day, Babe!
Hi. I'm Blaise. Thank you for coming tonight to my wonderful show, part of a series of which I'm not only the founder, but the producer, curator, and host as well. Also, I created it.
Here is the story about me and my boyfriend, which definitely fits tonight's topic and should take 10 minutes or less to tell:
We met at a month-long international artists' residency in Northern Vermont in 2009. I was there for writing--something I am incredible at--and Andrew was there as a visual artist. [Could you please mention the URL of my website here, and spell it.] We met the very first night we arrived. Andrew thought, Who is this gorgeous girl? I want to spend time with her. But for the next two weeks I basically tried my best to stay away from him and not think about him at all, which I did not do very well. Also, doing that was ridiculous because Andrew is an amazing person. Second only to me on the scale of amazing persons.
One night, halfway through the residency, I did a reading in the old Town Hall and pretty much blew the roof off the place with a poignant and incredibly sexy personal essay about masturbating with stuffed animals. After all the applause and accolades, a bunch of us went out to celebrate at the one bar in town called The Hub. It was a special Tuesday at The Hub: $2 beers and "Reggae Night." Needless to say, the incredible trifecta of reggae, cheap ale, and a childhood history of violating stuffed animals three ways from Sunday was all it took to seal the deal. Andrew and I spent our first night together.
He didn't actually stick it in that night. He was in no rush; he wanted to wait until the time was right to make sure this wasn't some dead-end fling, and I was content to follow his lead, however long it took. The next night, he stuck it in. He'd never been so happy.
The truth is, even though I was interested in him from day one, I'd decided that I shouldn't be anybody's girlfriend for a while because of my debaucherous past. (Not just with stuffed animals, but with real living people. A lot of people.) And I never figured he'd be interested in me. Fortunately, I was able to let all of that go. It's a good thing because it turned out that I was just the kind of girl that he'd always wanted--his dream girl, pretty much--ever since he started liking girls at the age of 11 months, or earlier.
At the end of the month, when the program was over, he and I went back to Brooklyn--together. We'd been living in the same borough for over a decade. It's funny to think that in order to find each other we had to travel 8 hours north of the city after paying a non-refundable fee to apply to a pretty competitive program, and actually get accepted, which, frankly, was not as much of a sure thing for him as it was for me. My father attended the same program several times so I had nepotism going for me.
It's also funny to think that I spent considerable time and energy trying not to fall in love with Andrew right from the start. Looking back, I now realize it was already too late.
 Thank You.
NOTE: Babe, So this is what I think you should read at your show--the best storytelling series in New York City. I know it's the best because I'm at Happy Ending every 4th Wednesday of the month at 8pm except for the 3 times I couldn't be there for stupid reasons I can't even recall now. I bet you did a great job just like you do at every show. That's all. I'll be standing in the front row when you're done.
With all my love and basically full on in-loveness,
PS. You're so hot I can't believe I get to have sex with you.

 (* Fine, I wrote this.)