November 23, 1998 was my first date with Michael.
Long story short, we started talking about a date in late September....I will have to go back and fill in the details from that month. It involves my Dad saying, "...over my dead body." It also involves much prompting from a crazy football player, skipping class, and fried chicken.
Yes, we will just stick with the short version for now.
Let me preface the story with this: it is difficult to date in a small town. You more than likely grew up with everyone in your dating pool. In addition, those people have probably dated someone you are already friends with or related to in some way. It just makes things a tiny bit complicated. So going on a date to get to know someone doesn't usually happen.
Weird for those of you who went to high school with thousands of people?
Is that about right for people who went to small schools in small towns like me?
A first date with Michael was going to be weird because I didn't know him. We lived 30 minutes from the nearest dinner & a movie spots. I wasn't sure I wanted to be in a car with someone I didn't know for a minimum of 1 hour round trip plus date time.
We compromised on staying in town, eating at the local Pizza Hut, and seeing a play at the high school.
He paid for the pizza. I paid for the play tickets. He argued this arrangement but I didn't want to be beholding to him for anything if this date was as weird anticipated and I wanted to bail early.
Yes, I fully expected him to be weird. After all, I kept arguing as I put off this date, "What is wrong with him that he is willing to go on a date with me?" I didn't say that because I had low self-esteem. (I think that I had average self-esteem for a teenage girl.) I said it because he was 23 and graduated from college and I was 17 and in high school. Why wasn't he dating girls his own age? There must be something terribly wrong with him. (Michael appreciates every time I share how much I thought he had something wrong with him!)
So we met at Pizza Hut for the first date. (That way I had my own car...a red mercury station wagon that was my mom's.) He would want to point out that I was almost a half hour late. In my defense, I was working and couldn't leave. (Local newspaper office where I was a typesetter, film developer, and occasionally covered stories too boring for real reporters.) That part went well enough for me to drive over in his car the mile and half to the high school theatre. (He insisted we take his brand new mustang instead of my station wagon...go figure!)
We saw a Christmas play and sometime in the second act, he held my hand.
This past weekend, we sat in the same high school theatre but we didn't hold hands. Another girl had stolen my seat beside him and was holding his hand through both the first and second act!
|The little nine-year old hand resting inside of his was okay by me.|
Together, Michael and I shared this same story with Nan. She relished every minute of her time date with us and every detail of this story.
I am not very intentional about sharing my memories and history with her. I need to be better at sharing.
After all, my story is, at least in part, her story too!
I would enjoy hearing your first date stories too!