In which I reminisce about first dates

I've been thinking a lot about first dates lately because quite a few of my friends seem to be having them. (One friend in particular has had an astonishing run recently. She will ignore men completely for long stretches of time while she focuses on her career and hobbies and friends. Then she decides she would like to go out, and men just materialize. She recently celebrated a thirty-something birthday, and her last date was with a 25-year old triathlete who cooks. If I were dating, she would be my Yoda.)

Anyway, there are two main schools of thought on dating. The first is, go out with anybody who asks and have fun because you never know who you might hit it off with. The other school says, be selective and only accept dates from guys you think you will be VERY compatible. It means you sit home a lot more, but it also means your first dates will almost always lead to something significant. When I was dating, I subscribed to the second philosophy. I never saw the point in suffering through an evening with someone I didn't find really attractive just to get a free pork chop. Both systems have their merits, but I stuck very closely to my rule, and only once did I ever go out with a guy I didn't really like.

It was my absolute worst first date. I went out with him even though I KNEW the chances of us clicking were miniscule at best. I can only plead boredom. I met him when I was in college, temping for the firm where he was an accountant. I had very low expectations for the evening, and somehow he even failed to meet those. He started the date by driving us FIFTEEN miles out of the way, and when I suggested we were going to be late for our dinner reservation, he cracked a joke about ABDUCTING ME. He was harmless, but I decided the ick factor from that remark had pretty much mortally wounded his chances for a second date and that things couldn't possibly get worse. Until dinner, when he told me he had a fiancee, a lovely and understanding girl who had no clue he was taking me out and who I HAD NEVER HEARD ABOUT UNTIL AFTER THE SALAD COURSE. That was when I realized the necessity of keeping cab fare and the telephone number of the taxi company in your bag. I had stupidly not anticipated the possibility of discovering my date was a pig before the entree, and I was woefully unprepared. Believe me, ordering the most expensive dessert on the menu, taking one bite and pushing it away because, "Gosh, I guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought" is not NEARLY as enjoyable as being able to leave under your own power. (You might think there is a lesson to be learned here about mixing business and pleasure, but I figure that only applies if going out with someone IS a pleasure, and this certainly wasn't. I would rate it as slightly less enjoyable than getting my wisdom tooth crowned.) My temping assignment ended the following week, which thrilled me because he was genuinely surprised that I wasn't interested in seeing him again. Honestly. Once I left that job, I never heard from him, but I sincerely hope his fiancee wised up and broke things off. And if he's lost all his hair, well that just seems like karma, doesn't it?

The other disastrous first date I remember was actually one of the best dates I have ever had. Chris and I worked together at my first job in a movie theatre in San Antonio. We had bantered for months before he asked me out. It didn't matter what the subject was, we could figure out a way to joke about it, and we kept each other laughing like howler monkeys. We had as much fun on the date as we did at work. We ate plate-sized chicken-fried steaks and argued about the movie we had seen. We talked for hours, and by the time he walked me to my door, my stomach hurt from laughing so hard.

And then he kissed me. Or he tried. He went in for the kiss, and the SECOND our lips touched, we collapsed into hysterics. It was awful. It was like kissing a sibling. Or your dog. And we both felt it IMMEDIATELY. I don't know how we missed it, but the fact was, we had perfect chemistry as friends, but nothing more. (I should have known because he was blond. I have never been attracted to blondes.) I started dating one of his friends a few weeks later, and by that time Chris was already heavily involved with a girl who loathed me. We lost touch eventually, but he was smart and ambitious, and I'm sure he's done something remarkable with his life. And I hope he still has a full head of blond hair because he completely deserves it.

Of course, my BEST first date was with a guy I almost didn't go out with at all. On paper, we didn't make sense, but I trust my gut and my intuition looked at him, sighed, and said, "This is inevitable." We went out and had a great time; within two weeks he told me he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Within three months he proposed. He said it would have been sooner but he was saving for the ring. Our 17th wedding anniversary is in two weeks. And I wonder, what do you give the guy who has, and has given you, everything?