Welcome to day three! All my "stories" are especially written for this event straight from my own memories and are not excerpts as has been hinted in comments. Hope you enjoy.
First Date
He walked me to my car and invited me to go home with him. "I'm not that kind of person," I declared, wishing I was. Instead, I wrote my phone number on my business card and gave it to him. He promised to call.
While driving home, I listened to that annoying little voice that usually gives me the wrong advice, telling me he wouldn't call. Clearly his interest was only in sex, and he'd move on to a woman who wouldn't turn him away. I convinced myself him calling was only a pipe dream (and I'd missed out on the pipe :)
Despite being up late on a Sunday, I worked on Monday and thought about 'him' all day. After spending only a few hours with him at the single's dance, I felt as though I'd found the lost slipper I'd been looking for...you know that other comfortable shoe. I kept tamping down any hope that I'd hear from him, and I went home determined not to sit by the phone all night.
What did I do? I went home and sat by the phone. Of course, I lived in a small apartment so the phone was pretty near wherever I sat. Around 6:30, it rang. I expected to hear anyone, but 'him.'
"Hello, remember me?"
"Of course I remember you. I'm not so old that I'm senile yet."
We shared a laugh.
After we made small talk, and he invited me go to a classic car show in Tahoe with him, I knew I couldn't wait a whole three weeks to see him.
"Would you like to come for dinner on Wednesday?"
"Sure. What time?"
I'd done it...I asked him out...or 'in' as the case may be, but at least we'd agreed to see one another. I swear the clock that passes time had a broken hand. Wednesday took a week to arrive, and I hurried home after work, trying to decide what to make. I hate cooking, so I knew it wasn't going to be anything exciting. Sandwiches sounded nice, easy and not time consuming...and how wrong could I go with ham and cheese? If I wanted to woo him with my cooking skills, this definitely wasn't the way to do it, but...
I had the the tomatoes sliced, the lettuce leaves ready, fresh bread in the cupboard, and ham and cheese in the fridge. Chips, of course. I'm no Julia Childs, so why put on airs? Sandwiches go well on paper plates, don't they?
I'd changed into something casual, freshened my makeup and cologne, and tried not to stand at the window and watch for him. I was as successful at avoiding that as I was sitting by the phone earlier in the week. Finally, I spied him driving into the lot. Squinting through the blinds, I watched him get out of the truck, and in his hand, he carried a bouquet of pink carnations. My favorite...but he didn't know that. Must have been Karma.
To shorten a long, non eventful evening, we ate, talked, talked some more, laughed, held hands, and thoroughly enjoyed each others company. As the hour grew later, I kept checking my watch, knowing that 5:00 a.m. wasn't far off and I needed to get to bed. My job at the university was pretty demanding, and falling asleep on my desk was not an option. If administration hadn't turned the ladies lounge into a "mother's nursing room", I could have sneaked in and stretched out on the cot as I had done at lunchtime on a few occasions, but...
Around 12:30, I finally couldn't stifle my yawns anymore. "Oh," I said, stretching my arms over my head. "I hate to call an end to this, but I have to get up early."
He cocked his head and looked at me with a raised brow. "I didn't drive all this way to turn around and go home."
"All this way?" I raised my own brow. "I'm assuming you came by car and not wagon train."
Was he kidding, he'd driven over the Yolo causeway from Sacramento, not from New York.
"I don't have to work tomorrow." He said, his chest inflated. "I'm on worker's comp for hand surgery." He showed me a pretty well-healed scar on his wrist. "So, we might as well hit the hay."
AWWWWKWAAARD! With no prior experience in booting someone out, I shrugged and pointed to the bedroom. I suppose if I hadn't felt such a connection with him, showing him the door would have come naturally, but why start listening to that little voice in my head now. I hadn't gone home with him the first night, like he asked, so maybe I earned a little respect, but I had a pretty certain feeling, I was about to earn a whole lot more, but for an entirely different reason. For thirty-two years, I'd worn the same old shoes...Momma was about to try on a new pair. Do you get my drift?
Join Me. Tomorrow for "First Dance." Click the other participants to see their entries:
Don't forget to follow my blog and leave a comment for your chance to win the prizes listed on my First Sight blog post, February 8th.
While driving home, I listened to that annoying little voice that usually gives me the wrong advice, telling me he wouldn't call. Clearly his interest was only in sex, and he'd move on to a woman who wouldn't turn him away. I convinced myself him calling was only a pipe dream (and I'd missed out on the pipe :)
Despite being up late on a Sunday, I worked on Monday and thought about 'him' all day. After spending only a few hours with him at the single's dance, I felt as though I'd found the lost slipper I'd been looking for...you know that other comfortable shoe. I kept tamping down any hope that I'd hear from him, and I went home determined not to sit by the phone all night.
What did I do? I went home and sat by the phone. Of course, I lived in a small apartment so the phone was pretty near wherever I sat. Around 6:30, it rang. I expected to hear anyone, but 'him.'
"Hello, remember me?"
"Of course I remember you. I'm not so old that I'm senile yet."
We shared a laugh.
After we made small talk, and he invited me go to a classic car show in Tahoe with him, I knew I couldn't wait a whole three weeks to see him.
"Would you like to come for dinner on Wednesday?"
"Sure. What time?"
I'd done it...I asked him out...or 'in' as the case may be, but at least we'd agreed to see one another. I swear the clock that passes time had a broken hand. Wednesday took a week to arrive, and I hurried home after work, trying to decide what to make. I hate cooking, so I knew it wasn't going to be anything exciting. Sandwiches sounded nice, easy and not time consuming...and how wrong could I go with ham and cheese? If I wanted to woo him with my cooking skills, this definitely wasn't the way to do it, but...
I had the the tomatoes sliced, the lettuce leaves ready, fresh bread in the cupboard, and ham and cheese in the fridge. Chips, of course. I'm no Julia Childs, so why put on airs? Sandwiches go well on paper plates, don't they?
I'd changed into something casual, freshened my makeup and cologne, and tried not to stand at the window and watch for him. I was as successful at avoiding that as I was sitting by the phone earlier in the week. Finally, I spied him driving into the lot. Squinting through the blinds, I watched him get out of the truck, and in his hand, he carried a bouquet of pink carnations. My favorite...but he didn't know that. Must have been Karma.
To shorten a long, non eventful evening, we ate, talked, talked some more, laughed, held hands, and thoroughly enjoyed each others company. As the hour grew later, I kept checking my watch, knowing that 5:00 a.m. wasn't far off and I needed to get to bed. My job at the university was pretty demanding, and falling asleep on my desk was not an option. If administration hadn't turned the ladies lounge into a "mother's nursing room", I could have sneaked in and stretched out on the cot as I had done at lunchtime on a few occasions, but...
Around 12:30, I finally couldn't stifle my yawns anymore. "Oh," I said, stretching my arms over my head. "I hate to call an end to this, but I have to get up early."
He cocked his head and looked at me with a raised brow. "I didn't drive all this way to turn around and go home."
"All this way?" I raised my own brow. "I'm assuming you came by car and not wagon train."
Was he kidding, he'd driven over the Yolo causeway from Sacramento, not from New York.
"I don't have to work tomorrow." He said, his chest inflated. "I'm on worker's comp for hand surgery." He showed me a pretty well-healed scar on his wrist. "So, we might as well hit the hay."
AWWWWKWAAARD! With no prior experience in booting someone out, I shrugged and pointed to the bedroom. I suppose if I hadn't felt such a connection with him, showing him the door would have come naturally, but why start listening to that little voice in my head now. I hadn't gone home with him the first night, like he asked, so maybe I earned a little respect, but I had a pretty certain feeling, I was about to earn a whole lot more, but for an entirely different reason. For thirty-two years, I'd worn the same old shoes...Momma was about to try on a new pair. Do you get my drift?
Join Me. Tomorrow for "First Dance." Click the other participants to see their entries:
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Don't forget to follow my blog and leave a comment for your chance to win the prizes listed on my First Sight blog post, February 8th.
