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.

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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