First Date

I grew up in a small town. My graduating class was, like, 30 people... and I'm not sure that all of those people actually received their diplomas.

Our high school limited the dating options and we weren't all that close to other schools where we shared (m)any social events and had a chance to cross-pollinate. Of course, most of my friends did have girlfriends and most did "date"... so maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion and it was just me. But I didn't really date and never had a girlfriend in high school.

I then went away to college and met my future ex-wife my freshman year. We started hanging out as sophomores and, with one brief exception, were together for many many years.

Fast forward to 2006. I'm out on my own. Our marriage is over. I have tired of World of Warcraft and I think I should, like, make myself available.

The second time I went out I met a girl and, although she hesitated to give me her number, I happily gave her my number. She was attractive and I was pleased that I hadn't scared her off. I was realistic enough to realize how uncommon it is for a woman to actually call after she declines to give her number out and then gets the guy's, but I didn't really care.

Fast forward again. Three weeks or so. It's a Sunday morning and I am bored. I decide--for the first time in my life--to go see a movie on my own. I walked some blocks to the theater to see "The DaVinci Code" and was a bit disappointed in spite of several layers of self-imposed expectation reductions.

A couple of hours after I got back, I received a call from a number I didn't recognize. I answered and it was... her. The chick from earlier in the month. (I know you never saw that coming, huh?)

We made a bit of smalltalk. She informed me that she had lost my card in her car and came across it and decided to give me a call. She asked if I had seen the DaVinci code.

I am, by my nature, an honest person. It sometimes gets me into trouble because I'd rather deal with the short-term consequences of the truth than the longer-term consequences of falsehoods.

I am also, by my nature, a guy who is interested in hot women. So I lied.

It wasn't a harmful lie, I don't think, but I easily answered, "No! I haven't. I've read the book, though. Have you seen it?"

She replied, as I knew she would, that she had not. She surprised me, though, by saying she was meeting a pair of friends on the East side to see it and wondered if I'd like to join her. That evening.

Sweet. I answered affirmatively and we made plans for her to swing by my place, park in my spot, and then us go across the water to meet her friends at the theater.

She got there on time and as we moved our cars around she explained that she had been at some sort of street fair and had a henna tattoo done. I had little idea wtf a henna tattoo was, and my confusion was compounded when she hiked up her shirt to show me the henna tatt she'd had done on her lower back.

Now... me being me now (at this time, knowing what I know and having experienced what I have), I would take the opportunity to admire her back. I might even playfully kino her a bit. Would it be pushing things a bit? Sure. But it would be fun and I would be able to apologize if I'd gone too far in response to her clear flirtation.

At the time, though? I was still trying to figure out what a henna tattoo was, and when she turned around and showed me her lower back, right there in the parking lot? Wow. I might have started blushing. I know that I stammered a bit and felt uncomfortable.

The ride to the theater went fine. We talked about where she was from and what she did for a living. We touched upon my education and career when we arrived at the movie theater.

Her friends hadn't arrived yet, and I bought our tickets (enjoying that I had bought three tickets that day for a movie I wasn't even excited to see the first time). And we stood there, waiting.

Waiting and talking. Our conversation was not ideal for either of us. It went something like this:

Me: So... do you go to the movies very often?
Her: Not really.
Me: Do
you like movies, though?
Her: Some.
Me: Ah. What kind of movies do you like?
Her: Horror movies. Scary movies.
Me: Really? Wow.
Her: Yeah.
Me: I haven't really seen that many scary movies.
Her: ...
Me: ...
Her: ...
Me: So you run? Like for fun?
Her: Yeah.
Me: Do you run marathons or anything ...?
Her: No.
Me: So you just run?
Her: Yeah.
Me: ...
Her: ...
Me: Do you read?
Her: Oh, yeah...
Me: Really? Cool. Who is your favorite author?
Her: Oh, I dunno.
Me: ...

She was a smart girl. She seemed interested in being there. She was a lot of fun to look at.

I just simply had nothng to say to her. I didn't know how to get more than four syllables at once.

Now? I'd compliment her. Make fun of her. Tell a story. Make fun of people standing around us.

Something.

Then? It was like a snowball. I had nothing else to ask. Nothing else to say. And I knew it. And I felt that she knew it. And I feared that she knew I felt that she knew it.

Oh, boy.

Her friends arrived. They seemed nice enough, but didn't seem terribly eager to talk to me, either.

We watched the movie. We agreed it was "OK".

The drive back we talked about my divorce. It was raw for me and I was a bit emotional and it was about the worst think we could have talked about on a first date... I mean, the worst if I ever hoped to go on another date with her.

We got back to my place. A nice goodnight hug. She agreed we should hang out again.

Now? I would know that she didn't mean it. Then? I actually took her at her word, rather than just that she was being nice.

We went back and forth in txts and voicemails for a while. After a couple of weeks she informed me she was seeing someone else. It was OK. I knew that I'd blown it. I wasn't sure, at the time, what I could have done differently, but I knew that I'd blown it.

Looking back I can locate several spots where I clearly blew it. I also know, looking back, I'd probably find altogether new and exciting ways to blow it if I had it to do over again.