catheroominations

Once upon a time, I had a really good first date. As with most first dates, I was nervous as I anticipated his arrival. Well, not nervous as much as anxious. For some reason though, this one was different. As soon as he picked me up, the anxiety subsided. The unfamiliarity was still there, but it was so easy to be around this guy. Before he picked me up, I remembered that he was cute, but I kept wanting to look over as he drove, to make sure I was right in my initial impression. I didn’t need to stare too long and come across as some freaky gawking girl. I was right. He was cute.

He took me to Palo Alto for dinner at a cute little Italian place, the kind of place where the tables are placed close together. Thankfully we were practically the only ones there, so we didn’t have the eyes of other diners upon us, hanging on our every first-date word. “Do you have any siblings?” “Where did you go to school?” “What kinds of things do you like to do?” and other fascinating questions that make up the conversation. Honestly, I don’t remember what we talked about. All I remember was he was easy to talk to. And he held the door open for me. And he liked good wine and chewed with his mouth closed. These are all plusses in my book.

After dinner, we walked over to the Stanford Theatre to see a classic starring Katharine Hepburn, Jimmy Stewart, and Cary Grant. Before the show, I excused myself to visit the ladies room and have some interior dialogue on how I felt the dinner went. And I probably freshened my lipgloss or something girlie like that. He was waiting for me outside the entrance to the plush theatre. As I started to follow behind him to find seats, he stopped, and maybe backed up a bit. He said he wanted to walk side-by-side. I thought that was cute, and for a split second thought something about walking side-by-side down a different aisle someday. Then I mentally told myself “Shut up! It’s a first date for Pete’s sake!”

Part of the Stanford Theatre’s charm is the pipe organ onstage, offering pre-show entertainment that you just don’t get at the large cineplexes. The organist was playing Someone to Watch Over Me when we walked in. I remember this.

The movie was very sweet, as only classics like that can be, and I decided then and there to pay more attention to AMC and to add Cary Grant to my TiVo wishlist.

I don’t recall the conversation on the ride home, but I knew I wanted to see him again, and soon. I mentioned something to that effect, without sounding like some sort of desperate loser, and I gave him a hug good-bye. Yes, I sound like a prude, but this night was just too sweet to ruin it with a botched attempt at a first kiss. Besides, Mom always taught me to play hard-to-get.

That date was one year ago. And tonight I’m going back. Same restaurant. Same movie theatre. Same cute guy.