The horrible first date. Everyone’s had one, am I right?
Well, actually, I haven’t. Sorry. I started dating my husband when we were fifteen. I haven’t actually had all that many first dates.
In the spirit of the hop, though, I’m going to tell you all about the time I ruined my husband – then boyfriend’s attempt to ‘ask me out’ officially.
It was Valentine’s Day 1995 – shut up, you already know I’m turning 32 this year. So, February 1995. He was a wrestler, I was a cheerleader. Match made in heaven. We’d been ‘seeing’ each other for several weeks.
We were in high school, so of course, he bought me ‘gold’ heart-shaped jewelry and I bought him a gold necklace. Life was dreamy. I was so sure he was going to ask me out, knew it was coming – KNEW it was coming. We held hands in the hallway, sat together at lunch, he walked me to class and stayed with me until the bell rang.
It didn’t occur to me until later that he was probably late for almost every class, every day, for three years.
But Valentine’s Day, this Valentine’s Day, I was still technically single at the end of the school day. I rode the bus home, heartbroken, and commiserated with friends. How could he not ask me out?
By the time I got off the bus I wasn’t heartbroken anymore – I was angry. So when the neighbor lady called to ask if I could babysit, I jumped at the chance to break my plans with the non-asker-outer. I called him and told him about my better offer. He tried to change my mind, but I was set. I couldn’t back out on the neighbor.
So I spent Valentine’s Day alone, watching my neighbor’s two children. And when mom came home, I went home and cried myself to sleep. I cried for love lost and broken hearts, and all the other things that fifteen-year-old girls cry over.
The next day was a Saturday. The wrestling coach was hosting a party at his house and attendance was mandatory (according to the cheerleading captain). I went, saw The Boyfriend, played Uno (that was what we did at these supervised parties – Uno for consequences) and by 12:30, was ready to go home for curfew.
The only one willing to leave early to take me home?
That’s right – The Boyfriend.
So, with my head held high, I got into his brother’s rusty brown Ford Taurus and buckled up. Halfway through the twenty minute drive he pulled over to the shoulder of a dirt road an turned the car off.
That’s when he explained how he had planned to ask me out during dinner the night before. He kindly didn’t point out that not only had I spoiled his plans, but I’d been a royal bitch about it.
Anyhow, seventeen years later, we’re still together. I’ve spent a huge portion of my adolescence and all of my adult life with the same man. We just celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary.
So the moral of the story is, trust your man. He knows what he’s doing.
To read the rest of the first date disaster stories, head over to Rebel Reasoning.