How to Fall and Get Back Up

December 26th, 2008: “The first date”

I had known him for over two years. I remember the first day I saw him in my science class, deciding to focus on the back of his head rather than the teacher who had an immense fascination with dead things.  Weeks later a mutual friend introduced us. I was hooked almost immediately. I’m not going to get all “Twilight” on you. He was not my drug. I wasn’t forced to be around him. I wanted to be around him. Something about this shorter-than-average, quiet boy pulled me in and I wanted to be around him.

We passed notes and laughed and… I don’t even know. It was nice to have a real guy friend. Even though I had a huge crush on him, he liked my friend, so I took what I got. The next year, I came back, glasses gone and hair cut and dyed. But he still didn’t seem to notice me in that way. Our groups of friends grew and intertwined and we spent a lot of time together and grew even closer. Even so, I am a woman, so I became inpatient and looked elsewhere. I dated a friend of mine and that did not work out.  And also another boy, two years older than me. (Not my best choice in boys, mind you). 

The next year rolled around and it was nearly Christmas break. This was when Facebook was just starting to get big. He finally got one and we were constantly talking. We exchanged numbers and began texting as well. We talked about the dumbest things. I remember the time, three nights before Christmas, we stayed up until nearly six in the morning. I was writing song lyrics on my mirrored closet door and he gave me song suggestions. We talked about his brother, and laundry, and my mother, and the Spring, and a million other little things that could seem entirely unimportant. But they made me happy. And happy was something I hadn’t been in a long time. 

The night after, he asked me to go out with him. Ohmygod. I’m thinking. Oh my fucking God. What will I wear? What will I say? This is my first real date. Of course, at the time, neither of us could drive so we got dropped off separately at the theater (so yeah, not really a real date). He was standing in line, waiting to buy tickets. For a moment or so, I stood off to the side of the line and watched him fiddle with the edges of his coat sleeves. I skipped over to him and bumped him slightly with my hip, as I tend to do to people still to this day.

He had the most nervous smile on his face when he turned to me. I swear to God, if I wasn’t blushing already, that sure as hell made me. We went and saw Valkyrie. I know. Romantic, right? But it didn’t matter what we saw. (Though that movie is awesome. If you haven’t seen it, do so now.) We talked awkwardly before the movie started and awkwardly bumped elbows throughout it. Then we awkwardly talked even more after the firm. 

 In case I didn’t make it obvious: It was awkward. 

But I loved every second of it. I went home that night feeling like butterflies were dancing around happily inside of me. (so cheesy. If I ever say anything like that again, hit me please). It was great, for both of us. Probably the best first date either of us could have asked for. I don’t know if either of us knew then that our first date was only the beginning of the rest of our lives. 

…. sort of.