The First Date
Editor’s Note: In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m posting one story each day for a week of a time in my life I felt particularly loved. Names have been changed or left out entirely, although I’m sure a few of you will recognize the stories. Maybe they are even about you. Happy Valentine’s Day! Day 1 Day 2 Day 3
Walking up 6th Avenue, I thought back on the past two weeks. After the break-up, one of my best friends signed me up for Match.com, a gift I laughed off at the time but participated in out of curiosity. After a few weeks with little luck, I fully intended to take a break from online dating for my 10-day vacation in Texas. But, as they often do, plans didn’t exactly work out.
I had been in Texas for all of 12 hours when he messaged me. I was bored, so sitting in my Grandmother’s living room on my smart phone I responded. He seemed attractive enough, and although I still had a week and a half left in Texas, I couldn’t imagine wanting to meet him any sooner than that. Remember what I said earlier about plans not working out?
10 days and 8,000 text messages later (Yes, really, my phone bill said so), I was finally meeting him. At this point it seemed almost like a technicality. I already knew so much about him, and felt like he knew everything about me. But as I headed to the corner of 6th and 42nd, our decided meeting place, on the edge of Bryant Park, I couldn’t wait to feel his arms around me. We had discussed what we’d do when we met, but I still thought almost anything could happen. My highest hopes were for a lifted-off-the-ground, never-let-me-go hug, and that was what I got. It was perfect.
He took my hand and we walked through the park to the Grill. I remember smiling so big it was hard to breathe. We held hands all through dinner, embarrassing our waitress and ourselves as we tried to eat one-handed and giddy. I couldn’t tell you what we ate, but I remember drinking half a glass of wine. When we stood up after dinner I was drunk.
Our first kiss was in the park. He pulled me off the path, behind some hedges and kissed me. It made my knees weak, and he held me up. At the time I was staying with some friends in Chelsea, and he offered to walk me home. We made it four blocks before he pushed me up against a building wall and made out with me on the sidewalk. For a fairly-shy, no-PDA girl like myself this was unusual, but I had no qualms. The entire city could have walked by and I wouldn’t have noticed even one person. For the night, New York belonged to us.
Once it became apparent we wouldn’t be making a walk home anytime soon, he caught a cab. After it dropped us off, we still took over 20 minutes to say good night. The date had lasted over 4 hours, and I smiled from ear to ear the entire time.
Post Script: Ironically, after breaking up just 6 weeks after this post took place, I hadn’t spoken to him since. Until today, when two accidental pocket dials led to a short text conversation. This post was pre-planned and scheduled. Life is weird.
