Jami Misses the First Date

EDW, my dear blogging buddy, asked me something about dating. As usual, our conversation meandered off whatever it was we were talking about, but she suggested I blog the brilliant things I told her, and since she's blogging about something at least vaguely similar, I gladly obliged. Check her insanely awesome ramblings here. Ah the first date. I miss it. Probably won't have any more. The Husband frowns on me dating. It's a shame really. First dates are a glorious ride. They are the absolute epitome of potential and anticipation. Do you remember what you wore or said or where you went on your third or sixth date? Did you try on every shirt/skirt/pants combination in your wardrobe? Practice your smile in the mirror the 10th time you go out? You do for a first date and you know it. I did this post awhile ago about first kisses, and those are great, too. I once told a friend that I loved the first kiss, and horrified her by admitting that I'd even kissed a few that I knew would not be getting second dates. Why not? I'd figure, Maybe there will be sparks. Nope. But this isn't about that kiss, it's about that date. For a first date, you're both excited and nervous. You're on your best and you have that same happy-sick feeling you get when you're strapped into a newer, bigger scarier roller coaster. You know which one I mean? When you're thinking that you really want to get off the coaster right now, but you also think that's it going to be really fun, if you can just live through the hideous glory of that first uphill climb? That's a first date. We've all had bad dates with great people and vice versa, I'm sure. Or, if you haven't, maybe I've just dated too much. One bad first date, just a totally bad idea on my part: the guy asked me out for a night I was supposed to be in this talent show, so I suggested he come to that first. WRONG! That date took a sharp drop when I was too nervous and squeaked out my song, followed by some truly untalented. It soared back up once we left that place. I did adore him, but he wasn't the one, and I knew it. Bad date with a bad guy - he "forgot" something in his apartment. Naive me, I follow him up like I believe him. Not only is it (duh) a not-so clever ruse to get me into his apartment, but also, obviously, even to a first date who has never been to this apartment before, his girlfriend LIVES there. There are pictures of them on the wall!! Her tampons and haircare products were out in the bathroom! Bad date, bad man, good story. Good dates don't often make for as great stories, but some are just sweet. There was the total jerk (I found out later) who took me on a foggy night time walk to the gazebo overlooking the lake and sang romantic songs to me. Very nice. Gave me his jacket and all. He lasted about 4 dates. I knew he wasn't going to make the cut pretty early on, but hey, the guy serenaded me! Points for that. I'm wandering away from my point here which is, I think, that a first date is a new book by a new author you've heard a lot about. It's that first step backward off the mountain when you're repelling. It's a future of love or strife, joy or tears or indifference about to start. It's an unwrapped gift that takes an evening to gently open. I love a first date.