Thread by @gdimelow

Today is our 22nd anniversary. To mark the occasion we decided to recreate our very first picture (again), taken in a photo booth at Blackhorse Road station.
Indulge me as I tell the story of how we met...

So the year was 1997, obviously. I was 22 and new to London. Four months hadn’t really been long enough for me to make a new set of friends, so I passed most of my empty evenings in a bar that catered to men who enjoyed the company of other men.

It was called Centre Station, and was just short walk away from my flat. Somewhere I could happily make a Smirnoff Ice last a couple of hours. With no local friends to talk to, I’d usually hang out at the bar and make half-hearted chat with the bored staff.

It was tucked away in a grimy, run-down industrial park in Walthamstow. Its exterior was downright unwelcoming, whereas inside was an explosion of Etruscan orange. We only discovered this later, when accidentally choosing the same shade of paint for a bedroom makeover.

One cold, damp evening, I found myself at a loose end, and decided to blow some of my meagre income on a couple of drinks. It was a Tuesday, which meant quiz night, offering some respite from another evening of standing alone at the bar.

Shortly before the quiz started, three guys came in and took a table directly in front of the stage. One of them caught my attention straight away. Talk, slim and handsome, with a vague look of Brad Pitt in Se7en. Maybe it was the haircut or the goatee.

As he ordered drinks at the bar, we caught each other’s eye, but I was too unsure of myself to say anything. As he returned to his table, the compère took his microphone and announced that there would be two quizzes - one on film, and one on general knowledge.

Sensing an opportunity to break the ice, I made my way to the bathroom, going via his table. I leaned in and, with all the faux confidence I could muster, I said “Just wanted you to know I’m going to win the film quiz.” He laughed disbelievingly at my arrogance as I walked away.

I instantly regretted that bravado since, as we’ve already established, I had no team. I could see that he and his friends were answering confidently, and I wondered whether I’d ever be able to show my face in the bar again.

When the time came to swap answer sheets, I made a bee-line for his table. Handing over my own, and taking theirs from his friend, I decided to push my luck. “It’s nineteen.” I was pretty sure I’d got every answer right, with one exception.

As it happens, I was right. And with a clear margin of four points I was named the winner. My prize - a pair of cinema tickets to be handed out after the second quiz.
Films might be my specialist subject, but I’m generally hopeless on general knowledge.

Nonetheless, I had a go, and tried to answer as many questions as I could. I left a couple of answers blank, and several others were just guesses. But then I noticed it was 11pm, and the job I hated so much required an early start.

I handed over my second answer sheet and wished them goodnight, saying “Well, I figured I’d better let you older players have a chance at winning.” I walked out without looking back and heard them jeer as I left.

The following morning I arrived at my horrible job with people I didn’t like, only to be told over lunch that they were letting me go. I later found out that the other writer they’d just hired was the one they really wanted - I was simply an interim measure until she could start.

Despite being relieved not to have to ever go back, I’d now lost two jobs in four months. And with Christmas looming, things were starting to look a little desperate. I decided that a one-night-stand was just the distraction I needed. And I’d already cast the role.

That night, I went back to Central Station, with even less money in my pocket, and a hope that my handsome stranger would also return. As I ordered my drink, the barman from the night before rushed over with exciting news.

“You won’t believe what happened after you left last night...” he said.
Unsure of how to respond, I let him continue. “You only went and won the second quiz as well! There’s a bottle of sparkly behind the bar, along with your tickets.”
At that moment, you can guess who walked in.

Accompanied by his friends, they took what I now assumed to be their regular table. This time, we locked eyes as soon as he realised I was in the building. I decided to bide my time until he was alone - when one friend went to the bar and the other to the bathroom.

I took a swig of Dutch courage and wandered over. Leaning in again, I said, “I’m so sorry, but it turns out I actually won both quizzes last night.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes.
“But that means I have a bottle of champagne and two cinema tickets, if you’d like to share them.”

We left together that night.
We drank the champagne as soon as we got in.
The tickets were used a week later.
And we still laugh today about the one-night-stand that never was.