First Date

We had been talking for days, exchanging flirtatious messages and cliché jokes to make each other smile, though we were staring at a screen. The connection was instantaneous, conversation flowing easily despite meeting on a dating app. Even after we exchanged phone numbers, I found myself clicking back to his profile just to stare at his face.

Butterflies flittered through my stomach every time my screen lit up with his name. Before opening each message, I’d wonder, is this it? Is this the one where he asks to meet in person? I was nervous, having only ever been on a handful of dates in my life. And the ones from the dating apps, those never seemed to work out. The last one, before him, walked me to his car after an evening of serial killer jokes then asked me not to ghost him.

This, though, I could just feel it. It would be different. Something about the tone of his words, how easy it was to respond, something about his smile and the gleam in his eyes I could just tell was there. I felt crazy with a craving to see just where we could take this thing.

Two weeks. It took two weeks for him to ask me to meet him at a coffee shop. I was an anxious mess, as I ran around the house trying to figure out what to wear, what to do with my hair, how much makeup should I put on. I attempted to calm my racing heart with a glass of Merlot to take the edge off, but it didn’t work. It was just a first date, right? But I felt like it was everything.

Finally, it was time. I entered my car and drive ten minutes down the road to our meeting place in a daze. I don’t remember red lights or stop signs or if the sky was cloudy or clear. I can’t remember whether the sun was out or how fast I drove. All I remember is the feeling of anticipation that lit up my body, the tingles that spread across my skin like goosebumps.

I stayed in my car for a few minutes trying to work up the courage to go in. Suddenly, I was absolutely terrified. What if our conversation wasn’t as easy in person? What if he thought I looked different from my picture? What picture did I even have on my profile anyway? Still, I could taste something in the air, a whisper of a promise. I exited my car and walked into the coffee shop.

Our eyes met across the room and matching grins lit up our faces. I could almost see the red thread of fate connecting my pinky to his wrist. We sat, we talked, we joked, we laughed. One cup of coffee turned in to two, turned in to three, the third one sitting untouched because we both knew it was just an excuse.

We talked about everything and anything. Hours flew by in an uncomfortable coffee shop chair until we were shifting in our seats and laughing at ourselves. Because neither one of us was ready to leave.

I blushed each time he looked at me. The gleam in his eyes that I had imagined was brighter than I anticipated. His grin was crooked and full of mischief. My heart was heavy and full of hope, for a new beginning.

When it was time to go, we stood up slowly and hesitantly. He walked me to my car and then we stood, lingering, quick eye contact and then glancing away. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, I could barely breathe through the connection that felt like a physical ache. He stepped towards me, placed his hands on my waist. I could feel his palms burning through my dress. Our lips met and every nerve ending in my body lit up. Like electricity was jolting through my veins, I trembled.

He pulled back and he grinned. I blushed.

“Catch you later,” he said.

But he had already caught me and reeled me in. Because the truth was, he was my new beginning. I ached from our first date; I could physically feel the string around my finger like a weight pulling me towards him. A connection I never thought existed, I never thought could be real. I dreamt about it as a little girl, hoping for a fairytale love, and now I tasted the possibility of forever with just one kiss.

“Catch you later,” he had said, but I hoped from the beginning he would catch me forever.