The New York Times' wedding story about how professional juggler Lindsay Benner and pyrotechnic sculptor Dan Das Mann met, fell in love, and burned for each other like a brushfire, is pretty epic. What I mean is, if James Cameron and David Lynch were going to co-direct a romantic comedy, they'd buy the rights to the Benner/Das Mann love saga and shoot the whole thing in mega-awesome IMAX 4D.
The Atlantic Wire compiled a nice round-up of Internet adoration for this most glorious of all Times wedding announcements, which features the perfect romantic comedy blocking mechanism: Benner was dating someone else when she first met Das Mann, and couldn't decide whether or not to break up with her then-boyfriend (spoiler alert: she totally did). Benner and Das Mann exchanged some texts, but then Benner decided to see her other relationship "through to the end" like all frustrating romantic comedy protagonists, and asked Das Mann not to text her anymore, a wish he respected except when he texted her a single comma, "To signify," he explained, "that in my opinion, we were just on pause."
That punctuation text has proven to be the real aphrodisiac for the Internet, but a lot of people are just glossing over the most suggestive passage in the entire story, which comes when Das Mann first sets eyes on his future wife at a holiday party in San Francisco:
“It was almost déjà vu, like I already knew her intimate secrets,” he said. He was a year out of a long-term relationship and looking for love, but he didn’t anticipate finding it on another man’s lap.
So, this was holiday orgy, right? That's how I read it. Amid the blur of genitals, Benner and Das Mann spotted each other. Sparks and fluids were flying. Incidentally, "I Found Love on Another Man's Lap" could be a great music video for The Lonely Island.
[NYT]
Image via Honchar Roman/ Shutterstock.
DISCUSSION
I hope her ex BF moved on and is also happy now, otherwise would totally suck to be him right now.
Anyone ever lose out to a romantic rival, then get invited to their wedding or something equally mortifying?