Exactly five years ago today (well, tonight), D and I went on our first date. This is the day we mark as the anniversary of when our relationship began.
So, how did it all go down?
After a busy Thursday of college classes, I went to my usual fencing practice. We had arranged to meet at my dorm around midnight to watch a movie. I know what you’re thinking: booty call. Let me assure you, that is not what was happening. It’s possible D thought that’s what was happening, but I was naïve. That kind of thought never passed through my mind. All I knew was that I was not going to miss fencing practice and I was not going to see if D would wait two weeks for a date. These few late hours were the only free time I was going to have for a while.
I got home a little early so I could shower and checked out a Dane Cook DVD from the front desk. Then I waited. I waited because D was nearly and hour later than he said he would be. I didn’t think much of this, especially because I essentially greeted him in pajamas.
That’s right, folks. I wore baggy grey sweatpants with HAWKEYES printed down the left leg and a baggy T-shirt. I don’t think I even bothered to dry my hair. You would have thought I was getting ready for class instead of preparing for a date.
My attire may have been a little off from the norm, but D had his own issues. The man was nearly an hour late. He told me it was nerves. (Not sure if that counts as a red flag or not.)
Once he arrived, we nervously settled in for a night of comedy, with a bit of idle chat.
There aren’t explanations for some things. Everything in my life up to that point made me wary of the male gender. The few ‘relationships’ I had in high school were sad things. Those boys proved my father’s words. Men only wanted one thing. As such, I had a bubble and I didn’t like people in my bubble. Yet, something made me comfortable with D. We eventually ended up laying side by side on my futon as we continued to watch stand up comedy.
He was very careful with me and treated me differently than any other man before. He didn’t take; he asked. Maybe that’s what made me comfortable with him in a way I never had been before with anyone else.
What do I mean when I say he asked? It was the small things, the things those high school boyfriends just went for without a second thought. D asked my permission before he settled his hand on my leg. From the get go, he seem concerned about what I wanted. He’s always been good at reading people. Maybe he knew that asking would make me more comfortable. Maybe the friend who introduced us talked to him before he came over. I have no idea. All I know is that really appreciated the gesture.
As the DVD neared its end, D leaned over my ear with another question for me.
“What would you say if I told you I wanted to kiss you right now?”
The brief milliseconds that passed between that question and my answer seemed to stretch on forever.
“I’d say that’d be just fine,” I answered.
…and we kissed.
I want you to believe this was the most romantic moment, but I’d be lying. I was a horrible kisser. Where I grew up, kissing with any amount of tongue, open mouth stuff or whatever you call it was scandalous. In what I felt like was a magical moment, D was probably questioning every decision that brought him to kiss someone who didn’t know how to kiss back.
I don’t remember the exact words we exchanged. What I do remember was that, after a brief moment of embarrassment, D was able to guide me through proper kissing etiquette.
By the time our date was over, it was after two in the morning. It was too late for the cambuses to be running and D lived in the dorms on the other side of campus. I set him up with a blanket and a pillow on my futon and I settled into my bed (At that moment in my life, I didn’t think a man and a woman should sleep next to each other until marriage).
D left in the morning and I left for that weekend’s fencing tournament. I would eventually learn that being a quick study in the ways of kissing would not be enough to salvage the romance of that moment. You see, I had a roommate in my dorm, a roommate who I thought was asleep.
I was wrong. She was the uncomfortable witness to our smooching noises. Sorry roomy!