Our First Date...A Memoir

I've had a few readers contact me and request that I share more of my writing.  As with any piece of writing, the author is sharing the depths of his or her life, so please be kind.  This is a piece I wrote some time ago to encapsulate our first date, the beginning of our love story.  I'm old fashioned in a way; I like to capture memories through writing and pictures so that my children and other descendants will be able to get a glimpse into the life that came before them.  May this piece make you chuckle at its cheesiness and fondly reminisce about your own first date (And I hope my husband doesn't kill me for sharing it!  Surprise!)

“So, Do You Like Football?”

As I am browsing the endless racks in search of the perfect orange ensemble for the following day’s game in Tiger Town, my phone begins vibrating from the depths of my oversized bag. “I’m with my closest friends shopping. Who could that be?” I wonder.

“Hello,” I answer cheerily.

“Lindsey, I have met your husband!” my college roommate, Catherine, shouts.

“Well, it’s nice to talk to you, too,” I respond facetiously.

“Be quiet. I’m serious. He’s one of Jeff’s friends from Iraq; you two are perfect for each other.”

“Catherine, I'm not ready for anything serious yet. Can’t a girl be single for a while,” I plead.

“You two have GOT to meet. Meet us for dinner Monday night at 7:00 at Hickory Tavern.”

With that, I hear the click of the line. “I guess that’s settled,” I joke to myself. Now, I need two new outfits!

The rest of the weekend flies by as most weekends do. The dreaded Monday arrives and passes without incident. After working all day with my fourth graders, I speed to my next shift with my second family, the Ike’s. The afternoon and evening hours blur together as I run the taxi from activity to activity. At 6 o’clock, I realize that there is no plausible way that I am going to make it to dinner on time; Hampton’s Boy Scout meeting has run over by thirty minutes.

Reluctantly, I reach for my phone to notify Catherine that I will not make it. The Boys Scouts of America are going to ruin my chance at meeting my “husband.”

“Hey Cat, it’s Lindsey. I’m really sorry that I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. I’m running behind at the Ike household. I hope y’all have a nice dinner,” I rattle off as fast as my mouth will move. Catherine, however, is not going to let me off the hook that easily.

“That’s no excuse. You’re still coming. Thank you for the courtesy of a heads up,” she replies.

“But I have not seen a mirror or make up since 6:00 this morning,” I implore.

“Stop being a drama queen. You’re coming. End of story.”

“Dinner it is,” I mumble. I have thirty minutes to get the kids fed and homework complete before I’m finished at the Ike’s. I tune into my inner superhuman powers to conclude the job at hand. During the five minute drive to Hickory Tavern, I do my best to salvage my day old make up. With only gloss available, unfortunately, it is a lost cause.

After securely parking and locking my Solara, I nervously begin the walk to my awaiting dinner companions. Glancing around the restaurant, I notice two familiar sets of eyes and make my way to the table. My first impression of my blind date is that he is tall, really tall, with a traditional Marine high and tight hairstyle. As he greets me, I notice the crease at the edge of his blue eyes, the sign of a genuine smile. Fresh from the desert of Iraq, his skin has a warm glow and freckles tickle the surface of his tight forearm when he shakes my hand. This man has been trained for war as evidenced in his burly physique. I think I can stand to look at him over my salad!

While the zing of attraction is ever present, the flow of natural conversation is missing. “I know I’m not looking my best this evening, but was my mirror distorting just how bad reality is?” I wonder as I pick at my tangy grilled chicken salad.

My silent blind date, Jared, is enamored by the Monday Night NFL game. Eyes glued to the TV, I try to give him the benefit of the doubt. I remind myself that four days ago he was in a war zone. Of course, adjusting to civilian life (and dating life) must be difficult!

The conversation between old friends rambles on until the waitress brings the check, signaling the close of the date. After paying the bill (hey, at least I got a free meal), we walk as a group to our cars. Anxiously anticipating his next move, I try to remain as calm and smooth as possible. Jared approaches with open arms to give me a warm embrace. I wonder if he feels the same electricity as our skin briefly touches.

“I’ll be in touch,” his southern draw promises as I fold my long legs inside my convertible and drive off into the clear night.