Let me take you back almost exactly seven years ago to the day.
(If we were going to the day, exactly seven years ago would be November 20)
(But who’s counting?)
Anyhow, seven years ago this weekend, Tim and I had our first date. It was a Saturday night ordeal, as most first type dates typically tend to be.
Friday night consisted of a short but sweet confirmation phone conversation (our first one ever) (and had I known Tim at this point, I would have known that there are always confirmation conversations) to make sure we were still on for Saturday.
I still remember that Friday night like it was last week.
I was at my mom’s house, laying on my bed in my room (before my room was taken over by brother Jeff), smiling as I stared at the ceiling and bantered back and forth with “Tim” for a few minutes before he was all,” I better end this conversation while it is still going well.”
That kind of stopped me in my tracks like, “Why end a good thing?”
He, apparently, had already experienced a similar situation where he had a fantastic, albeit long, conversation over the phone with someone and then, when they met for their date, NADA. It’s like they had nothing more to talk about.
So, we said goodnight and I waited for the next evening – the night I’d actually meet “Tim.”
I say “Tim” because the most I knew about him was through a few emails and a picture or two, along with this five second conversation where I decided I could tolerate his voice, which was huge. If I started emailing someone online and then spoke to them over the phone and they had pipsqueak voice?
Maybe that’s shallow…but that’s just how I roll.
(and I think my voice sounds like a man, so I really have no right to be so critical)
Saturday rolls around and I do my typical gym routine, though back in the day (all of seven years ago), I tended to go to the gym in the mid-afternoon versus the butt crack of dawn, like now.
After I finished my sweat fest and returned to my dad’s house (who I was – shockingly – living with at the time), I decided to go ahead and shower to start my pre-preparations to get ready for my date.
I had finally figured out that if I did what I needed to do to get ready in phases, things never got crazy and I wouldn’t have to rush. Rushing almost always meant I would either completely botch my makeup or burn myself with the hair dryer.
Neither of those have very pleasant outcomes.
Fate must have given me some urgent reason to continue the “getting ready for the first date” process because after my shower, I was all, “Meh. Might as well keep going.”
So, I did.
Phone call from Tim who was all, “Um…the movie time we initially planned for is sold out (how does the 3-D Polar Express sell out?!).”
Plan B was for me to high tail my ass up to the Mall of Georgia to have dinner first and then see the movie.
**Note to anyone still dating** This is a dangerous and highly risky move. Now, you’re stuck with dinner AND a movie whether you like the person or not. So, if this happens to you, now would be the time you better start praying to the dating gods.
Good thing I was almost ready, anyway, and could tell “Tim” that the change of plans didn’t throw a wrinkle in my outfit selection/makeup perfection/hair awesomeness time.
Like I said: Fate.
Little did I know that this first date would last well into the wee hours of the next morning.
Not only did Tim and I go to dinner and see a movie, we first got into his car (I know. I’m a terrible example of first date safety) and drove around trying to find something…I don’t even remember what it was, now, but all I remember is that we ended up right back where we started – at the Mall and into Starbucks.
The movie, complete with giant, ridiculous looking 3-D glasses.
Waffle House for hot chocolate.
It was 2:30 in the morning and probably time to call it a night before it turned into an all-nighter.
Tim invited me over for breakfast…technically that same morning…just…later. We both got to drive home and sleep for a few hours first.
And shower. Again.
I still remember that drive, too, mostly because Tim followed behind my car and then flashed his brights at me as I exited to return to my dad’s while he continued the long drive back to where he lived…where I also eventually lived, too.
I did end up at his house for breakfast the next day, but that’s not really where I’m going with this.
Flash forward seven years and in our attempt to “recreate” our first date, this happens via text message yesterday afternoon:
Tim: Is a matinee ok? 1:40pm?
Me: OMG. I LOVE YOU. And I love matinees!
Tim: Dinner is like…at 4:30
Me: WHAT?! YESSSSSSS.
Tim: We’ll eat with all the blue hairs
Me: I’m *so* on board with this plan
Me: But…there’s no Waffle House here!
Tim: I can take you to Village Inn…
Me: Always the man with the plan.
Me: How sad is this? How did we go from 2:30 in the morning to a matinee?
Tim: It’s how we roll.
Me: Seriously. You make my life.