The Groom's Perspective:
As is the custom of ultimate frisbee players, we enjoy games of all sorts.  In Riverside, several of us would gather together on a Friday night to amuse ourselves with antics of Telephone Pictionary, Things, and whatever other items catch our fancy.  Anyway, sometime in April, Ben and Kim Rose held a game night at their apartment.  Naturally, I made an appearance.  After throwing on a pair of shorts, a Guinness shirt, and, of course, my converse, I quickly swung by a local grocery store to pick up a case of Dos Equis.  I walked into the apartment, surveyed the scene of all the individuals, Ben, some guy I didn't know, Max, two girls I didn't know, Kim, oooh, who is that cute red head... Some quick introductions were made. Wait...seriously, the cute redhead's name is Jameson, like the Irish whiskey. Nah....So, a Telephone Pictionary game ensued, pictures were drawn, phrases written, and perspectives taken.  Wow, that cute redhead can draw too.  Wait...she's talking to me. Quiet inner monologue. Pay attention. 
  

     "Are you related to Pavlov?", she asks.
    "Umm...no." I stammer. 'Way to be slick' my inner monologue snickers.
    "Oh, 'cuz you sure can make a bitch drool".
    'Snap', states my inner monologue. 'She's got great humor, beautiful hair, and, that rack...'
    "That's awesome," I respond.
    'Smoooooth....Her pickup lines are as awesome as your jokes. Roy will love her.  Good luck.  You're on your own. I'm going out for ice cream...' *poof*....
   
Anyway, being the outgoing individual that I am, game night ended, I left without further discussion.  I later planned my strategy. I continuously showed up for ultimate every single night, waiting for Kim in order to get the scoop on her sister.  Needless to say, Kim apparently had internship applications or some such thing that prevented her from coming to ultimate for two weeks.  I got restless, and I swapped my strategy to stalker mode.  What better way to stalk than Facebook. How common could the name Jameson be?  Ta-da! There she is. I don't remember if this was my first message to her, but it definitely reflects our initial conversations...

Conor to Jameson: "Math pickup line: I wish I was your derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves"

Continual Facebook messages back and forth, eventual meeting with Jameson and Paula, and an uncomfortable pirate joke on my part...and, *bam*, I built up the nerve to ask her out on a date.

(The following is not verbatim, but gets the gist of the conversation...)
"Hey, Jameson, would you like to go to dinner and get some drinks sometime?"
"I'd love to, but I have midterms coming up.  Maybe some other time"
"Sure. Godo luck with midterms." (Was the sound of dejection too loud in my voice?).
"I'm sure, I can find some time.  How about Friday?"
"That sounds great!"
'What did I miss during my ice cream break?  Whoa, cowboy, didn't you see Swingers? Act non-chalant. And quit jumping up and down!!!'

A day or two before our date, Jameson calls.
"I can't go on a date with you. I have the shingles."
"Oh, I understand", I stated.
A quick response from the inner monologue. 'Shingles? I thought that was eradicated with smallpox? You have netflix, right? You should rent Swingers? Maybe you can learn a thing or two about dating hot girls.'
"I'll call you later. It was good talking to you," she stated.
"You too. I'll talk to you later."

And she did actually call. On May 1st, we went out for some Thai food, drinks (randomly running into 2 previous guys she had gone on dates with), and then, after being snookered, back to hang out and throw knives. Yes, that's right, throwing knives. What more could a guy ask for?