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My First, Last Date.


It’s been ages since I’ve been on a date, but I can remember one of my last, first dates quite beautifully.

The best part about it was I didn’t think it was a date at first. It was just “grabbing a bite to eat,” before he caught a plane to Hawaii. I saved my appetite that night, and showed up in basketball shorts, a hoody and some Js. He showed up with a full stomach and a backpack. I would’ve been more upset that he already ate if it wasn’t for the fact that I was too busy wondering about the contents of his backpack. The fuck are we going? Rock-climbing? College?

We ate at Crepevine, a neighborhood cafe that served sweet and savory crepes, pasta dishes, and the best ginger, carrot, orange juice ever. That was the first time I noticed he had tattoos. And nice arms. And if you stared one second too long into his eyes, you’d get paralyzed. Although I can’t remember what exactly, we talked about everything. From playing chess, to my favorite flavor Pop-Tarts. The “grab a quick bite,” lasted three hours. THREE FUCKING HOURS OF TALKING without getting bored. Things were going so well I almost forgot about the big-ass backpack in the empty seat next to him.

A chess set, and S’mores Pop-Tarts. That’s what was in his backpack. Oh, and 2 Milk Chugs, because he knew I couldn’t eat them without something to wash it down with. Swoon motherfucker SWOON.

Needless to say, I fucked that one up and haven’t went on a real date since. What more one so thoughtfully planned out. A few months ago I was talking to my girl Kris one day and wah’d to her about it. “But I thought you just went out with *ahem* to dinner and a movie?” “Yeah, but those were non-dates,” I said explaining that’s what I called two attractive people who go out, but aren’t necessarily attracted to each other … yet. I told her that I suggested it, he didn’t pick me up, I bought the movie tickets, and I didn’t have butterflies in my stomach. She basically told me I had unrealistic expectations for dates, and it wasn’t the 1970s anymore.

In my defense, I didn’t care that I had to pay or drive myself to our destination. It wasn’t about that at all. It was about feeling wanted. I felt that he had nothing else to do. Then again, neither did I. If you want to get technical, I guess you can say I’ve been on plenty of dates. But it’s been years since I felt like a man was excited to see me, or genuinely concerned that I enjoyed myself. Milk Chugs and Pop-Tarts don’t cost anymore than $10.00, but that non-date ended up being one of the best dates I had ever been on. As you can see, it’s not how much you pay, it’s how much you pay attention. And it’s not about how much money you spend, it’s about how much time you spend.

Ladies and gents, feel free to share your favorite first date story!

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