Thursday, October 18, 2007

Join me for a flashback?

Won't you? I'm a silly schoolgirl, but it's what I've been thinking about this morning.

I don't think I ever wrote about my first date with New Fella, other than it being a blind date. When he'd first called me to chat and set up the date, I was in my pajamas, still in bed on a Saturday morning. I was madly trying to finish Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows before my friend in Texas did. And I told him so. He was running Saturday errands. We agreed on dinner the following Friday.

I arrived early, and he was a little late. His hair was grayer than I expected. The mustache in the picture I saw was now a beard. His eyes, though, were just as kind as I thought they were in the picture. A captivating green, with an easy smile.

The restaurant was one of the nicer ones here. An Italian place, with white table cloths and attentive wait staff. He ordered a Tom Collins, and the waitress said, "Good choice," and scurried away. We talked about our children, our families, the joys of moving, and eventually about dealing with our exes. We covered what happened in our marriages and how we knew it was over. I learned that he loved to cook and would be catering his mother's bridge party on Sunday. Apparently, a BIG bridge party.

We were at that table for over two hours. The waitress quit refilling our water glasses, to urge us to leave. We left a tip to compensate her for the extra time, though.

He'd promised his son they'd go to a movie, and we hadn't planned on anything but dinner. So, he walked me to my car.

"So, do you want to get together again sometime?" Yes, I agreed. That would be nice.

He gave me that now-infamous hug goodbye. I was a little relieved that he hadn't gone for more, but puzzled by it. Did it mean he wasn't attracted to me? That was okay because I wasn't sure about him yet. Could I fall for him? Not sure. I decided I'd wait to see if he called again.

I'd worn my favorite shirt for the date. It was a lovely aqua color and soft and comfortable. I got home and hung it back up. I'd been in it a couple of hours and could happily wear it the next day, and no one would know I'd worn it the night before. I love that shirt.

The following day was filled with routine tasks. Got up late. Told my mom I'd help her with shopping at Sam's Club. I didn't fuss with much makeup, although I had to put on a minimum of makeup (foundation, mascara) to appease my mother. Left to my own, I would have skipped it. Who's going to see me and would care, anyhow? I have pretty good skin. But Mom is from a generation that wore Sunday best to take a flight. And I just didn't want to hear about it.

Eventually, I slip into my favorite shirt and we head out. Daughter, Mom, and I and an exciting day at the crowded price club. Yippee skippee.

As we're winding our way through the crowds near the meat counter, I catch a glimpse of something. I double-take, but it's gone. I must like this new guy because I'm starting to think I see him all over the place.

On to the bread. Picking out what we need and there's that glimpse again. When I look this time, the person is leaning to get something. Can't see their face, or even a profile.... Maybe....

At the checkout, we find a long line. Mom has forgotten something important, too. Okay, I'll rush off to the other end of the store, hell bent for leather, and grab it before our turn comes. Right. Off I go.

I round the corner and...there he is. I stop and smile. He's on the phone, and looking down. I watch his gaze come up and rest on my face. Focus. I see the recognition dawn and he blinks in surprise, then smiles. Holds up a hand for me to wait while he's on the phone. I mouth, "I'll be right back," and he nods.

I take off again on my errand, rushing back. He's two lines over from my mother and spots me. I deliver her item to the basket and say I'll be right back. She's puzzled. "Remember the guy I met last night? He's right there." I'd told her before that he was older than me, but not exactly how much older. She's looking to see if she can tell, I'm sure. Stop it!

I go to chat with him. He's cheating and buying the cheesecakes for the party instead of making them. He tells me those bridge ladies get vicious in the food line, so you have to be sure there's plenty to go around. We laugh a lot, then I go back to help Mom.

"He looks very nice," she says. "I can't tell how old he is, though. Maybe late 40s?" Close enough.

It dawns on me later that I was wearing little makeup and the same short he'd seen on me the night before. Oh great googly moogly, I must look like a right bum. I said so later, but he very kindly said he hadn't noticed it. Nice of him.

That was the weekend of August 10. Nearly ten weeks ago.

Now, I know I could fall for him, and I have to be careful. Now, I can get hurt. Now, I'm hoping for it to work out.

Stay tuned.... I know I will.

4 comments:

The HOR blogger said...

You know I'm on board :)

:) And I LOVE memory lane!

Blogget Jones said...

Great! Thanks!

I love writing down this stuff. It's fun to go back and read later down the road. Well, if it works out, it is. If not...well, I don't want to think about that right now! LOL

The HOR blogger said...

I used to keep a written journal when I was a young teenager. I LOVE going back now and seeing the goofy crap that I wrote down. I WISH I would have still been keeping one when C. and I met. Actually that was about the time that I stoped. Huh.

Anyways like a few years from now on your 1st year aniversary or wedding night you can print off a few really special ones and share them with him. ;)

Blogget Jones said...

Oh, look who is encouraging my little fantasies! What a sweet idea, really.

I kept a journal before my marriage went sour. I stopped writing down the crap, but I probably should have kept it going just so my kids might understand someday. I love reading journals of ancestors and those who have gone before. I should remember that for my own journaling!

Thanks!