Then. Now. Next: Meeting Cute IRL

They say that love connections happen when you least suspect it, and frankly, “they” are often full of shit. But this story happened and I’m still scratching my head about it, so in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, Hudson Valley style, I offer up this delightful little weirdo tale of how I met my boyfriend, right here in Kingston, at the always delicious Chleo restaurant in uptown. 

I’ve lived a lot of lives, with a variety of co-stars—spouses, partners, lovers, etc. And I’m old enough to understand that when you’re single, you rarely meet anyone by sitting at home in your pajamas. So I’ve tried (and succeeded) at online dating over the last decade in which I’ve been single on occasion, and contrary to popular opinion, there are lovely people to meet virtually. However, this past summer, I was having none of that. I was nursing a bruised heart after a multi-year romance ended and, as such, was on a break. I closed the apps, called my therapist and was planning a season of being firmly benched in Loveville. 

When I met my pals, the musician and honkytonk maven Connor Kennedy and his charming girlfriend K., for dinner that evening at Chleo, I’ll admit, I’d been having a bad day and considered showing up in yoga pants and the tear-stained hoodie I’d worn on my earlier forest walk, but something compelled me to go home, shower and clean up. I arrived in a dress, heels and lipstick. Good thing I did.

After we were seated at Chleo and the entire menu had been ordered (easy to do at this spot; all of the smallish plates are magnificent), I turned to my friends and, while gesturing with a head nod, asked, “Do we know that guy at the bar in the striped shirt?” He just looked so… familiar. And adorable. Connor agreed about the familiar part, but we couldn’t place the guy, so we got to the business of chowing down. 

It was during the beet salad when the guy at the bar paid his tab and started to leave. He passed by our table, and we made eye contact. “Did you like the beets?” I asked, as I could see what he had ordered from my own seat. Yes, he enjoyed the beets, and then… he just joined our table, plopping himself into the empty seat at our four-top, saying only, “I’m sitting down.” About 15 minutes later, following some rapid-fire rapport (and turns out we did have friends in common), he left with my phone number and we three just stared at each other.

“Seriously… regardless of what happens, I can honestly say that I have never experienced anything quite like that introduction LOL,” wrote K. to me later that evening on our text. 

A week later, bar guy and I had our first date, an A+. We were off to the races. 

As I write this nearly five months later, JJ (yes, he has a name) and I are still laughing when we tell people how we met. In person? In Kingston? Just…like that? Yes, yes and yes. 

In terms of Hudson Valley geography, this relationship is the joke that keeps landing; the hits keep on coming. JJ’s dad and brother are beloved area dentists that more than a few of my pals see and when we’re out and about, he and I are constantly running into mutual friends who say, “Wait… Abbe’s your girlfriend?” or “Hold on…this guy is your boyfriend?”

When I first moved north of the city, I was partnered for a decade after a downstate divorce, and in the years that followed, I tended to have relationships with people who were based in the NYC metro area. Meeting locally was a bit of non-urban legend—sort of like how Woodstock ’69 didn’t take place in Woodstock. Turns out, “meet cute/meet local” was in the cards, and all it took was a little eye contact and a Chleo beet salad.