Friday, 17 August 2012
My First date disaster? I didn’t have one. I never had a date disaster, first or otherwise. There, I’ve said it. I enjoyed all my first encounters with men. Sometimes not enough to have a second one, but that’s another matter.
I guess it all depends on the level of expectation you bring to that first meeting. For me, I didn’t like dating at all, and if I found myself with someone new, my level of expectation was so low that nothing short of a tsunami could have constituted a disaster.
I was busy building a career and getting a whole bunch of degrees. I didn’t have time, to paraphrase the song, “for the dating game”. Men who wanted to go out with me sort of had to sneak up on me. They had to grab my arm after a class and take off for a more exciting venue, or they had to accidentally bump into me while grocery shopping and take me to lunch or…You get the picture. I wasn’t into advanced planning.
My future husband, being a very clever fellow, clued into this weird behavior on my part the third time he asked me out on a date and I said no. He started just showing up at my house with any lame excuse he could find. Once in the door, he’d sit quietly and read while I worked on whatever stupid academic paper I was presently working on, and then, when I was too hungry to write any more, he was conveniently there to take me to food.
Eventually I got used to having him around. Meanwhile he had figured out what my weaknesses were. Opera and dancing. One evening he showed up with two opera tickets, one of which belonged to his intended “date” who wasn’t able to make it. Of course I helped him out. I’m basically a nice person. Then there was the faculty dance where he HAD to put in an appearance and hated to do so alone—last minute, of course. I helped him out there also.
He last-minuted me right up to the altar. I never knew what hit me. We never actually had a date. Yet somehow we managed to have 32 years of a truly happy marriage before his all too young death.
So now I’m back to not dating.
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