Monday, 02 March 2009

• A Dream Date on Thursday

  Today after work, I went on an incredible date with _______.  We met at a small Italian place she knew of, hidden in the depths of LA. I arrived a bit early to find that she had come even earlier. She looked beautiful, and my not-so-great day at work was forgotten the moment I saw her smile. The food was delicious and the wine was perfect, too, but the conversation was even better. We talked about everything: our childhoods, favorite movies, the election, life goals and dreams and where we saw ourselves in the next five years. I was delighted to find that we shared so many interests and made a mental checklist of things we could do together, should future dates be in store. After dinner, we took a stroll, and though the wine buzz was wearing off, we continued to tease each other and laugh too much. I told her about my morning dilemma and how I was late to work because of her... 

  ...because honestly, I didn't know what the night meant. Was it a date? Was it just a friendly dinner? We had seen each other before on a number of occasions, but never alone by ourselves. We had flirted mildly, but nothing indicative of something more. We had exchanged phone numbers but only communicated online or by text. So that morning, I changed my entire outfit no less than five times. A suit? Business casual?  Just jeans and a tee? Was I overdressed? Was I too casual?  If I wore a blazer, would it scream desperate?  But would shorts imply something too platonic? In the end I decided on jeans and a nice shirt (and brought a hoodie and a blazer just in case). 
  

  She laughed, "Did you notice I'm wearing makeup today?"  yes I did, and she looked great.  "I only wear makeup on special days...and I guess dates are kind of special," she said with a wink and a smile. (omg how cute!  that absolutely made my day.)  "I didn't know guys thought about that kind of stuff!" 
  

  "Ha ha...yeah, I've been told I think too much." We both laughed, then a while later as we continued to walk, she slipped her hand in mine and our fingers intertwined. I didn't dare look at her in fear of turning beet red. She didn't look at me, either, but I was smiling, and I know she was too.

  We wanted to watch a movie but elected instead to pick up some ice cream and watch a DVD she had. We reclined on the huge sofa together and popped in "Dan in Real Life" (one of my favorites) and shared a bowl of strawberry Haagen-Dazs. We also had to share a blanket, so we sat closer. She leaned against me and nestled her head under my chin, and I put my arm around her to draw her close. It was a perfect fit.

  When the movie was over, she asked if I wanted something to drink, perhaps some more wine. She returned with a merlot in one hand and two glasses in the other. "Do the honors?" she asked, handing over the opener.  I smiled, she looks adorable with her glasses on and hair tied in a ponytail.
  

  "But first, can I see your ID?"  My ID?  "Can I see your ID, please?" she repeats. eh?  Oh, I get it, it's a joke. 
  

  "Ha ha, I love being carded, makes me feel young again."  She doesn't smile. 
  

  "No, I really need the ID, please." and that's when I woke up....  damn. 
  

  As I slowly regained my vision, I saw the blurred outline of a campus security officer. "Sir, it's past ten o'clock and only students are allowed to remain in the library. Can I see your student ID, please?" 

  Sigh...I  guess even my subconscious finds studying boring.

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