I just finished this week's FFF. Of course, it does not get posted for several more days. Not exactly my finest piece, not high literature, but it made me smile. And I wrote that hoping it would break the stranglehold my head has on anything to possibly post about. Fiction I can write. Trying to write about me is . . . . imagine me screaming and banging my head right now!!!
The first date w Harley was not what I expected. I'm not really sure what I expected. It's hard to explain - it wasn't like any other date I had ever been on. He picked me up at the house. As I remember it, I had offered to meet him somewhere else too. Yes, I will admit it. I still lived at home. And I was not looking forward to explaining the age difference to Mom and Dad. I did not realize it until I now when I am telling the story, just like Tree had years later, Harley made it very clear that he was picking me up at my door and bringing me back to my door.
Harley arrived early. I had tried to be ready and waiting on him so that I could just run out when he got there, but my getting ready never does seem to go as planned. It's a girl thing. I was still rushing when the doorbell rang. I felt like he arrived hours early, but I guess it was really just five minutes or so. I tell you that I had literally spent all day getting ready. I was worse than a girl going to prom. Hours - I had spent hours - getting my hair done, nails done, make-up just right, and a dress to knock his eyes out. I walked into the living room, scared that I was already sweating from anxiety, only to feel immediately under-dressed when I saw him. He had on a three piece suit that was obviously made to fit his frame. And what a frame! Except for prom, I had never been out w a man that wasn't wearing jeans. Harley was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. But what I remember most was how he made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He stopped talking mid-sentence to my father, got up and walked over to me, told me I looked beautiful, then led me back to sit down beside him on the sofa. It wasn't really what he said as how he looked at me when he said it. I know, I'm going on and on about a little nothing of a thing, but I will never forget it.
He took me out to dinner. At the time, it was the fanciest restaurant I had ever been too. We talked for hours. After dinner, we walked around a small lake that was outside the restaurant, sitting periodically on the benches. No sex. He made no move for that. We just kissed. And a lot of hand holding. Okay, there was a lot of kissing too. I like kissing.
That was our first date. I hate the anxiety of a first date, but truth is I love first dates. Everything is so new and there are a world of possibilities. I like going on first dates and I love hearing about someone else's first dates. A first date is like the first scene in a good movie - it gets you hooked for what's to come. I guess I like dreaming about the possibilities.