Dairy is Okay When You Are In Love

First dates are like cups of coffee. Sometimes all you need is one...or six. I have never been on a date. I didn't even need a first date to know I was going to fall in love with this boy. In fact, I could have told you from the moment he told me he finished reading Brave New World that this boy would remain at the center of my thoughts. I use to only ever imagine a boy like him. I thought it was impossible for me to obtain such a person.

November of 2o21, Thanksgiving break, we would go on our first date. I wasn't nervous, but I knew once I saw him, words would not be able to come out of my mouth. He was wearing a blue sweater, light blue Levis, and beat-up navy blue New Balances. I wore a white, knit polo sweater, mom jeans, and my black pair of low-rise converse that I bought a few weeks before. He opened the door for me when I walked to the passenger side of his truck. That was the first green flag (bare minimum, I know, but this was new to me. I only ever read about nice guys). The first part of the date was the magical winter lights at Moody Gardens, a convention center near the beach. He held my hand the whole time while we talked about which color of lights we would prefer around the holiday season. He likes the LED blue ones. I like the traditional ones that are different colors or the classic off-white. As the night grew younger, we went out for hot cocoa at the local Starbucks. I don't drink dairy, and neither does he, but that night we enjoyed 2% milk with our cocoa.

He droves us down to the shore. At a red light, he turned to talk to me about how his friend's birthday was coming up, and he was going to fly up to Austin to surprise him. As he was talking, all I could think about was how I was in the presence of a person who shared all the same interests as me and willingly took me out, so we could get to know each other better. It made me feel like whatever I thought love was before had no meaning. Love, to me, used to be something that you would say when "like" started to sound like it had no meaning behind it. But now, Love, to me, means that you are willing to put your pride aside, to let this person know that you want to be with them and only them. To me, love means becoming more vulnerable and embracing every part of your partner in every medium. The good, the bad, the pretty, and the ugly.

At the shore, we sat on a long rock. My two hands clamped in his, he started blowing on them to warm us up a bit. It was nine something at night and the air was making my face go slightly numb. I was nervous because I knew what was coming next. Our eyes locking here and there, grins on both of our faces while we said unimportant remarks like, "The waves are nice.", and our hot cocoa's becoming lukewarm. Finally, he asked to kiss me. I said yes. Our grins turned into smiles. I kept on thinking about how perfect this was, and how I would be sad if I ever lost this. This was the love I wrote about and hoped for. Six months later, and we still drink dairy together.