A Glass for our Second Date

A Glass for our Second Date (better with age)

By: The ADHD Accountant – Krid

It has been many years since my first date. I’ve had many since. Some bad, some good, even one that was great. I have oft wondered about the key to a good date as the children around me grow and ask and experience their own. We all agree; you both should have a good time.

This is very in-line with my thoughts on what makes a healthy relationship; something that should come as no surprise. A date should be about building a strong, healthy relationship. With, presumably, an intent to build a long-lasting partnership. Marriage, children, growing old together. Something built upon the years; blood, sweat, and tears.

Both parties must feel safe. Both parties must be honest. Both parties must be respectful. And, both parties should have fun! A first date isn’t about planning out a life together; it’s about finding out if you can even have fun together. Can you get along for a few hours? It’s a small FIRST step towards a possible forever.

At least that is the premise I will use for what a first date should be. And now let me tell you about a fantastical tale of a first date where all the gods of chance conspire for everything to go right.

It’s a Saturday, the kind of cool Spring morning that has a crystal clear sky and the promise of warmth in the afternoon. It matches my mood; optimistic and excited. We’ve flirted a bit over the last few weeks and have gotten to know each other a little bit better than mere strangers. We both appreciate a good pun, or some subtle innuendo. I know I’m attracted to her, and she to I. I asked her out on Wednesday and she said yes right away. Even agreeing to an ‘adventure’ date.

We both have careers and homes and cars and have had some bad experiences. We don’t feel the need to put on a façade – in fact her bluntness, her knowledge of her own opinions, is one of her most appealing traits. That, and she laughs at my jokes. I work with some younger people and at times they just don’t get it. The age divide is more of a canyon. Tok Tik right off.

We meet up, early, at the A&W. We’ve got coupons for a discount on 2 breakfast specials. I know she doesn’t like the sausage, she asked for bacon instead. We both get tea. We chat a little about our work week, it’s been a few days since we last chatted. The few texts exchanged between were fairly perfunctory. I joke about how the old people who surround us wonder why we are actually eating here instead of taking it to go. We’re the youngest by 20 years at least. Interlopers on their well oiled routines.

When the server delivers our trays I immediately take her tomato and give her my bacon. It’s weird but she eats only the egg yolks so I take the whites. I also get her hash brown. Peanut butter on toast for both of us. She has wet and white, I have dry and brown. Amongst all the food trading and sharing a peanut butter packet I lean over and tell her we’re ok now – our audience knows that despite our ages we’re just like them; on the road to happily ever after. We have a good chuckle over that.

From there we take my car, it’s newer and cleaner. But she drives. I don’t actually like to drive that much. I like that she can drive standard. The next hour and a bit pass by quickly. We start talking about something we heard on a podcast; it’s a good discussion where we are fundamentally on the same page but bring our own perspectives to it. Maybe this one can be about the affect of mediation services on the development of neighbourhoods and dispute resolution with an eye to building enduring communities. Let me give you readers a key takeaway I've gotten from her: charitable interpretations.

If you haven’t been, and you should; Grotto Canyon has some spectacular (and easy) hiking. It’s popular for a reason. We get there early, as is my preference, and get kitted. Boots (with spikes), layers, bags, water. My bag is bigger but hers is a little bulgy. She’s a little cagey about it. A surprise for later, I’m told. A pee break and we’re on the trail. As you get older take more pee breaks. It’s a good hike and we each take several pictures; comparing phones and sharing some of the other pictures we each have.

When we get to the cave (after the inukshuk) we both crawl up, and then back down. No bears! Time for a little snack. She brought a bunch of beef jerky for a snack! Perfect. A lovely surprise that shows she remembered my Long View story from our earlier chats. She got her favorite, teriyaki. I argue that pepper is better. Sometimes it’s fun to be difficult. Easy walk back to the car.

Our paces match fairly well. We’re not spring chickens, but we’re not daunted by some challenges. We both appreciate a convenient bathroom. Just search Banff – you want an all day date it makes a damn fine place to walk around a little bit. She gets way too much junk food, and we share a Beaver Tail. Well, I at least get a bite! We have an early dinner booked at Salt Lik so we head back to the car to “freshen up.”

I throw on a nicer shirt, no big deal as I have an undershirt. Jeans and black casual dress shoes are my weekend modus operandi; she’s able to throw on a different sweater and with her jeans and flats we’re good enough; that reminds me of the expression “good enough for my girlfriend.” Maybe in a few more dates.

We’re seated upstairs and get to choose the table by the fireplace. Since breakfast it has been mostly junk food on the trail and streets so we’re both hungry. Cheese toast, big steaks, and double baked potatoes. I get medium rare, she gets medium well. I order tea and water. Casual talk with the waiter reveals it is a “first date” and soon we are talking again.

It turns out that she is actually much pickier about food than I, and while I am gently teasing her about being seafood-phobic, while the cheese toast disappears, the Sommelier comes over with two glasses of Merlot for us, compliments of the house and best wishes for a first date. He gives his little spiel and is gone again, leaving two red filled glasses on the table.

I’m not sure that I believe him about reminding him of himself and his wife of 27 years, and I feel kind of awkward over the glass of wine – I don’t drink. My date does, and though she prefers whites my joke about being a permanent DD is well received. As are the deliciously laden plates that arrive moments later. There are a lot of glasses on the table and some juggling has to happen with all of our cellphones, but soon we are digging into our meal and I am talking about why I don’t drink (maybe an upcoming piece of writing that does NOT involve a private club with 12 steps for me).

It’s a great meal and she has enjoyed her glass but doesn’t want a second. I pay, and as we leave I joke with the waitress that I’ll be back for that glass on our next date; as we walk out ready to head home (with me driving) I get a little kiss opening the door for her and a thank you for dinner.

As I drive home, the sun at our backs and hands locked over the central console, it occurs to me that dating as I get older is a lot better than it was as a kid. And that perhaps, like that glass of Merlo left on the table, we just get better with age.

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