My best friend decided that I'd be perfectly suited to this girl he worked with, and invited me over for the weekend of a local festival. She arrived at his flat while I was half-way through a bottle of scotch & applying eyeliner
later that evening, she variously: sat on my shoulders in the moshpit, rugby-tackled me for no reason between tents, and engaged me in deep discussion on Resident Evil. The next time I saw her, she was drinking pints of bitter, and I realised I had met my perfect match.
Incidentally, despite said pints, after 8 years her arse is just as shapely as then
...pretend here is reality, and not some expectant itch of july...