First Date

Not only did you call, but you actually wanted to go out with me.  On a date.

How did I manage this?  A really, really good looking guy who was smart, who agreed (mostly) with my politics, who wasn't a dork AND who played in rock 'n' roll band?  Guys like you didn't date girls like the person I thought I was back then. 

Euphoria gave way to complete and total panic!

You did research.  You called a mutual acquaintance to find out where to take me. You chose Me Kong on South Grand.  It was perfect.

I gave you bad directions to my house.  You said it was cute.  I figured this was our first and last date. 

I wore black jeans, my tight white t-shirt, and a bright pink cardigan (the first of many that you would come to loathe).  You wore a vest and purple t-shirt and jeans.  Your hair fell in your eyes. 

We talked about music and politics and music.  We went to The Bull Tadpole for drinks after dinner.  We played "What It Takes" by Aerosmith on the jukebox - a break up song of all things!

You took me home.  My parents refused to leave the living room while we sat in the family room.  When they finally gave up and went to bed, I desperately wanted to make out with you, but you wouldn't do more than kiss me a few times.  

When you left, I was sure I'd never see you again.  

Apparently, I was wrong.  Fifteen years, two weddings and two children later, you're still here.