I know I kinda sprung being in an official relationship on everyone with very little warning, my apologies. I didn't even write about our first few dates at all. Why? Because those dates were, simply put, freaking awesome. There was nothing to write about except rainbows, hearts, unicorns and googly eyes and I wanted to spare you the gushing.
I usually write about traumatic things that happen to me for comedic effect, mainly because if I wasn't laughing, I would be crying profusely and often. The first date with Mr. Wonderful was simple, easy and, honestly, the best first date I'd ever gone on. I even came to a great realization during the date. Here is a little of how it went:
We had been texting for a little bit and he asked me to go to dinner. He didn't ask me to "hang out," he actually asked me on a big kid date. The day of the date, I wrote a blog about failing at dates (it's here, in case you missed it) because I was so exceptionally nervous. I spent most of the morning deciding what to wear (a dress) and spent a fair part of the late afternoon deciding what to do with my unruly hair (it still looked like a hot mess). After a day spent thinking about all the possible ways I could/was probably going to screw this date up, it was time to actually go out with him. *gulp*
I drove over to the place we were having dinner and I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. What I mean by this is my heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears and I LITERALLY THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE. I sat in my car for a minute and tried to compose myself, while he texted to ask me if I was there yet. My next thought was, "Ahhhhh! This is happening. I can't breath! I'm actually going to pass out. I'm going to throw up, pass out and he's going to find me in this car, unconscious with puke all over my lap. Awesome."
After getting myself together, I walked up toward the door of the restaurant and he was standing outside. My hands started sweating - 'at what point in my life did I get sweaty palms?!?!' - and it felt like my knees were going to start shaking. I managed to plaster on what was probably a really awful, "Help me, I'm scared" smile and he, not missing a beat, hugged me hello. After that hug, all my awkward, dorky nervousness disappeared and I was able to be my regular, still semi-dorky, self.
I did spend a little bit of the first part of dinner intensely studying the menu, but eventually looked up and engaged him in actual conversation. "Hey, I can do this! I can talk face to face to a real guy without being an idiot!" After dinner, we hung out and kept talking, about a little of everything. It was so comfortable, it felt like he and I had been friends for a long time. I was enjoying myself.
At some point toward the end of the evening, he was talking and I was able to really look at him. I have to admit, I zoned out on what he was saying (am I a boy, or what?) and just looked at him. "Huh, this guy is cute. Have I thought that yet or was I too focused on my eyeliner running to take notice? I think I might actually like him..."
See, what I did before this thought was something that lots of girls do: I was so caught up in getting him to like me, I didn't stop to think if I liked him. Shouldn't it be about figuring out if the other person is good for us, not the other way around? Why did it take me nearly 30 years to figure that out? Life would have been way simpler if I had learned that lesson before.
Anyway, you all know how the end of the story goes - a few more dates, a week away and then I have a real, live boyfriend. If only everything was this easy.
~j
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