Dear Future Husband,
I think it’s about time that I told you something. Brace yourself, this is BIG news:
I’m dating someone.
Actually, I’ve BEEN dating someone. For five and a half months.
I know, I know. I’m sure you don’t want to be exposed to all the juicy details about my ACTUAL dating life. The rhetoric was tolerable when the dates were hypothetical and nonexistent, and I certainly appreciate the sensitivity of the situation. However, I’m sure that you would agree that in order for me to get to Future Husband, I’m going to have to experience Current Boyfriend. And you’re just going to have to deal with it…(and hear ALL about it!)
I guess I should start from the beginning.
After all my talk of loathing the dating sites/apps, I must sheepishly admit that we met on…that’s right…a dating app. I was JUUUUST about to call it quits…again…and delete the app when HIS profile popped up. I thought he was handsome, wondered, “What if?” and decided to give it ONE. LAST. CHANCE. After all, it was free to “like” him and I had nothing to lose.
To my surprise, he initiated conversation pretty quickly. Then asked for my number. And then – get this – CALLED ME. Whoa. In the age of social media, NOBODY calls anymore. So far, so good.
When he asked me out for an upcoming Saturday night, I calmly, coolly and collectedly accepted, hung up the phone and then proceeded to go BAT SH*T CRAZY. In that moment I realized that I had limited time before our first encounter, and I was waaaaaay overdue for a hair appointment, had absolutely NOTHING to wear and my nails needed some TLC.
Thankfully, my amazing hairstylist managed to squeeze me in, last-minute, that Friday night. I emerged from the salon on cloud nine with my few grey hairs camouflaged and a fresh cut…only to quickly plummet back to reality when I realized that, in my “I have a date” giddy state of mind, I COMPLETELY forgot that one is not allowed to wash her hair for 48 hours following a coloring treatment. Which meant that the remnants of the dye would REMAIN on my forehead UNTIL I could wash my hair…a day AFTER the date. Ugh. I prayed he wouldn’t notice.
To boost my slightly waning confidence, I awoke early on Saturday to embark on an outfit-hunting mission. After hours of perusing, I triumphantly returned home with not one, but TWO, amazing, I-look-super-hot-and-he’ll-never-notice-my-forehead options. However, I swear something happened to the clothes on the car ride home because I hated both outfits the minute I stepped foot in my house. GRRRR!
So, I splurged on a gel manicure, found a presentable outfit, very strategically fixed my hair and headed to dinner. Here goes nothing!
Naturally, I was the first one there, so I waited for him inside.
And then he walked in…
I spotted him, he spotted me, we locked eyes, (cue the romantic music), he walked up to me…said “Hi” and proceeded to…SHAKE MY HAND…in front of EVERYONE (kill the romantic music). Awesome. I was logically convinced that every patron in the restaurant was now aware that we were on a first, internet-set-up date and that we had quickly become the sole topic of their conversation.
To this day, he SWEARS he didn’t shake my hand…but I would bet the future of our entire relationship on it. And I’m right…so…
Anyway, we grabbed a drink, waited for a table and had a lovely dinner. I guess our waitress didn’t see the awkward handshake because she referred to us as “her favorite couple of the night.” I’m not going to lie…I enjoyed her assumption.
Seven hours later, I told him goodnight. And, five and a half months later, we’re still going strong.
PS. He never noticed my forehead, but he DID notice my manicure. The primping paid off.