First date

I shouldn’t be getting ready for a first date when I am 38.   I should be settled down instead of getting ready to meet someone brand new. These are my thoughts as I walk around picking up this and that, and worrying what impression this place might be making. Then I hurry back to the mirror again to see if my outfit and hair look right.  I get as close to the mirror as I can searching for gray hairs, another sign that I am way too old for a first date.  

Suddenly, it hits me that this guy doesn’t want to go on this date, but he was too nice to say so.  My coworker, who set us up, is a mom of one of his basketball players and he was probably just too nice to tell her no. I start to feel bad for the guy for having to go through with it. Now I see why he suggested our date for a Tuesday night.  He said his weekends were pretty busy, but I bet he didn’t want to waste a weekend night on a mercy date.  

Should I let him off the hook by texting him that we don’t have to do this, or would that just make it worse?  Would it be better to go through with the date so we could both tell our matchmaker we had tried?

It is just a few minutes before six so I can’t back out now.  I hear something in the driveway and realize he’s here.  Do I meet him outside or wait for him to come to the door?  I wait and try to act calm.  The doorbell rings and I glance at the clock and notice he is right on time.  

I pick up the Redbox video so I don’t get another late fee.  I continue to the door, set a smile on my face, and open the door.

I say hello and that it is nice to finally meet.  He is friendly and I feel better.  We walk outside and I notice his very shiny, spotless black truck. He must be very particular and fear that my laid back ways of doing things may not mesh well with his standards.  

He suggests a restaurant I really like and I’m glad that we have this in common. I like that he has picked a place.  I have heard many good things about him so my guard is down and I begin to feel comfortable with him quickly.  Our conversation centers around the school where I teach and where he graduated from and now coaches basketball.  Between school and knowing some of the same people,  we have plenty to talk about.  We are both surprised that our paths haven’t crossed before in our small town.

We arrive at the restaurant and each order a beer.  We both become more talkative and relaxed.  We enjoy a nice dinner and leave the restaurant.  He gets right back on the road heading home.  The conversation remains easy for the thirty-minute drive back.   I thank him and he walks me to my door. We say goodbye and he drives away; successfully avoid the strangeness that can accompany the end of a date. I walk back in my door and realize I am still smiling. I’m not sure if there will be a second date, but I had fun and I enjoyed meeting someone I have heard so much about.

Later that night, he texts to say he had a good time and if he forgot to tell me, I looked very nice.  After a little more texting, he asks me if I want to go out again Friday night.  I quickly say yes, happy to have moved up to a weekend date.

This is how our story began and a memory that always makes me happy.  I love to tease him about it being such a quick date!  He said that just gave him less chance to mess things up.  

Now that we are married, he is rarely on time and his truck is used for farming and I have never seen it as clean as it was on our first date.

When we talked about his first impressions, he says that it was when I asked to drop off the red box movie that made everything feel more casual right away.  There were so many details I was obsessing over, but that is the one that made an impression.  :)

Our love grew out of feeling comfortable together and enjoying each other’s company.  I worried about so many other things that never really mattered.  We both get too busy now, but it is nights like these when we just spend time together where I am reminded that just like being around him is what sealed the deal.

I just witnessed my 16 year old getting ready for a date.  I’m exhausted.  She looked great.  Then ran upstairs to try on a pair of jeans I offered.  Then run down to her room in the basement and came up with a different top.  Then the search for the boots began.  Upstairs, main floor, basement.  

Moooooooom, have you seen my boots.  I think they’re in your room.  I don’t see them.  Can you help?  I went down to look, nope.  I have no shoes to wear.  She has many.  My suggestion to wear the pair by the front door was obviously the dumbest thing she had heard ever.  Back upstairs to put on the original jeans she left in my room.  Then back to her room.  Do guys have any idea how many outfits we put on at that age to feel right.  It is no wonder her room is a disaster most of the time.  It has only been in the last few years that I stopped needing to try on 20 things before leaving.  It has been very freeing, but came in conjunction with not caring much at all how I look so that isn’t good.  There has to be a middle ground between thinking every detail is life or death and not caring much at all.