The morning after our ski trip / concussion incident, B felt that he was okay to drive, so we decided to head back into the city. Remember: this was an unplanned overnight excursion, so as attractive as I had looked the night before, it was doubled come morning with no clean clothes or personal care supplies.
If you can’t quite picture it, I was lookin’ fiiiiine. ;)
We were all exhausted after the events of the previous evening, so we were all quiet on the drive home. When we arrived back on my campus M left to head home, and I finally had a moment to reflect on our first date. I was positive that the first half had been a complete and utter disaster, but I hoped he had enjoyed our night-long conversation and laughter as much I had. Before he left that morning he had promised to call later in the week, and despite his perfect track record for calling when he said that he would, I was still unsure of where things were going. So, I waited.
One day passed.
Two days passed.
…almost. On Wednesday night my phone rang, and my heart skipped a beat when I heard his voice. Despite my abandoning him on a ski hill in an unknown city for hours, he asked if I’d have dinner with him. I said yes without hesitation, hopeful that this could be a “do-over” from our disastrous first date. We decided to go out that Friday, before heading over to the YSA dance I had planned to attend later that night.
When Friday night arrived I was determined to look FABULOUS to make up for my bush-woman-Green-Giant ski trip appearance. I was a little braver with my style choices in those days, and I picked out a pair of faded jeans with a white top and mauve knitted shawl, paired with my favourite pink stiletto ankle boots. I wore my hair down and curly, and tucked my Green Giant suit away for another date.
He arrived looking better than I did in a white and blue collared shirt, dark jeans and great shoes, pulled together with a leather jacket. We talked shyly but excitedly as we walked to his car, ready to put the ski trip behind us. He remembered that I’d said I loved chicken during our middle of the night conversation, and took me to Swiss Chalet.
(It has been and always will be one of my favourite restaurants. Their french fries, dip and white rolls are AMAZING.)
As far as date do-overs go, we knocked it out of the park. From the moment we sat down we picked up right where we’d left off and talked easily and comfortably without any awkward pauses. He was charming and funny, and the more we spoke the more I liked him. Dinner flew by, then M chose an ice cream sundae for dessert. Our server slyly asked if we’d like two spoons, and with a smile, we both said, “Yes”. For a few minutes it felt like we were in an old 1950s ice cream parlour as talked and laughed and we shared our sundae.
We reluctantly left the restaurant and drove into the city for the dance. I began to feel nervous while we drove–we hadn’t established anything about what we were, or if we even wanted our friends there to know that we had been on a date. We walked in together, then shortly afterward A spotted M waved him over, and I found Telly. I poured out the details of our dinner before she pulled me onto the dance floor, anxious to get a better look at the man I was obviously head over heels for.
M and I spent much of the evening apart, unsure of how much attention we wanted to draw to ourselves. Even though there were hundreds of people at the dance, The YSA community is small, and we knew that people would speculate and talk once they saw us together. I danced with Telly and my girlfriends, and he spent much of the night talking with A.
Eventually, the DJ played a slower song and as Telly ran off to find someone to dance with, I scanned the room for M. As an attractive, single, well-dressed man I knew that someone was bound to ask him to dance, and I realized that more than anything, I wanted that person to be me.
I caught his eye from across the room and made my way over to where he was…. and I asked him if he would dance with me. He smiled and nodded, and I took his hand as we walked onto the floor. I can’t remember what song was playing, but I doubt that I was listening much anyway. As we danced he held me close and I knew that I was exactly where I wanted to be. From that point on we found each other for every slow dance, finding it a little harder to let go after each one.
The night couldn’t have been any more perfect. We stayed until the end of the dance, stealing moments to be alone or discreetly hold hands as we talked with friends. There was a light snow falling as he drove me home, easily after midnight at this point. He walked me to the door of my residence where we stood and talked for a minute more, both unwilling to let the evening end just yet. It didn’t take long for the January night air to seep through our coats, and I debated whether or not I should invite him in… just for a minute.
I bit the bullet and asked, and he said…
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[Original Post: http://lifeisgoodblog.ca/2008/03/chapter-seven-the-first-date.html/]