Part Two
Part One

Beware, this is a long post.

So, it’s my first date. I’m nervous. I mentally list the things I want to talk about. I do that often when I’m dining with my father, I think of safe topics in order to avoid any topics that I consider unsafe (school, illnesses, money). This was different, I’m trying to think of topics and anecdotes that will fill any awkward silences that are bound to pop up.

I’m sitting on the couch in the living room, tapping my foot and waiting patiently for my date to arrive. I’ve taken a shower, dabbed perfume behind my ears, worn a flattering, slightly low-cut top and jeans, my hair is down and neatly parted to the side. My makeup is minimal because of the heat, the last thing I want is for my face to melt off. I look pretty, my mom tells me. She’s nervous for me too. He calls my cell phone, tells me he’s outside. I open the front door and motion for him to come in. He’s wearing khakis and a t-shirt, his hair is cut short, almost buzzed. He looks adorable, as always. He shakes my mom’s hand, politely makes small talk, holds Buster and then we leave. He drives a white Chevy Blazer, the air conditioner is broken. It’s mid-June in the south, the heat is already making me sweat–glad I skimped on the heavy foundation.

We go to the Chili’s on West End. He asks me if I am nervous, since I don’t look him in the eye while talking, and my leg is shaking. He’s very right, and very observant. We get to Chili’s and he opens the door for me. We order the same thing and discuss school, friends, and food, of course. We’ve got a lot in common and try hard to find things that aren’t the same between us–we end up ordering the same burger, take the pickles off, and we both put too much ketchup on our fries. We both love Quentin Tarantino films and can quote too many movies. We find we’re different in our beverage choices, he loves sweet tea, but I don’t drink the stuff (I know, what kind of southerner am I?).

After eating, he pays and we get back in his car. We go over to Centennial Park, and walk the whole park, talking about history, religion (he’s an agnostic, I’m a Christian who isn’t a fan of organized religion), the people we see around the park. We sit on a bench swing so we’re sitting close, joking and laughing and now I’m finally looking him in the eyes. Then we walked to the duck pond and laid on the grass, looking at the sky while the sun was setting. Despite the stink of the pond, the buzz of the bugs flying around, the itchiness of the water deprived grass, it was romantic. It’s about 8PM now, we decide to go to the car because the homeless folks will be wanting their shady tree back soon. He asks me what I want to do now, we sit in silence while we think, and I notice the way he keeps looking at me out of the corner of his eye, with this cute little half smile. I want to kiss him.

“I want to kiss you.” I say it. We lean in and kiss and it’s wonderful and sweet and intense. I’ve been kissed before but nothing compares to this, I don’t want to stop, so we don’t, we just keep kissing and kissing and kissing and it’s the best thing since sliced-bread.