(Continued from my pre-Seattle retelling of my first date with my husband. The date is, remember, Saturday, May 30, 1998.)
Our first date was the night that never ended. The night we never wanted to end. From the drop zone, we went to a bar in Kent and played pool. After that, we went played miniature golf at a place just down the street from his condo. Night was closing in fast and even though it was summer, it was getting late. We were trying to avoid the inevitable, which was the end of the date and our departure from each other. And who knows when we’d see each other again? If.
Despite the fact that Mike kept coming up with other things for us to do, I still wasn’t sure he was interested in me at all. He hadn’t made any overt passes–no attempts to hold my hand or touch me other than the quick back massage, no lean-in to kiss. It was all very innocent and playful. We played pool and miniature golf with playful competitiveness and taunting. We were on the edge of something, but what, I didn’t know.
When we returned at last to the parking lot of his condo, I expected him to say goodnight. My heart sunk as I pulled into one of his parking spaces.
“Do you want to come in?” he asked instead.
“Sure,” I said. I hoped I didn’t sound too desperate. What if he was just trying to be polite and I was overstaying my welcome?*
I followed him into his house and sat down on the couch where I’d momentarily sat at the start of the date. We were again at the place at which this day had started. Mike sheepishly assumed a position on the arm rest next to me. He fiddled with a laser pointer which he was using to taunt his cats. Nicki seemed more interested in me; however, Tanya was jumping wildly all over the place trying to catch the illusive red light.
I laughed watching the play. We were having a light conversation, but about what I’m not sure. Small talk, chit-chat. After approximately six hours together, we’d expired every topic. The room became silent. Pregnant with awkward expectation… of…?
Then Mike said, his voice echoing in the absence of conversation, “I’ve been… um… thinking about kissing you.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Embarrassment.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Me too.”
Neither of us moved. I fumbled to bring up another topic. Quickly. I felt like an inexperienced girl who’d never kissed anyone before. Suddenly, with all our cards out on the table, I was so nervous that the thought of actually kissing him made my stomach churn.
I made some absent-minded remark about Tanya’s fascination with the laser pointer. Mike responded with a (unmemorable) half-hearted remark. He dropped off the arm rest, falling neatly into the tight space between me and the end of the couch. (“Couches”)
I looked up at him silently. Just like they had across the volley ball court at Woodchuck, our eyes met. And locked. The intensity burned like hot electricity between us, racing through my veins, jolting my heart, and flowing sharply to the ends of my feet. He leaned in. Our lips drew together as though they were magnets. We kissed.
And we continued kissing. For several hours. Yes, that’s it. Just kissing. Like two teenagerson our first date ever. I swear, this is not just the rated PG version of the story; we honestly did nothing more than enjoy a very long, lusty make-out session. More or less, anyway. And he was a great kisser. (But, then, who isn’t when you’re really attracted to them?)
We parted that night at around 2:30am. He walked me to my car, a lot more relaxed. I was starting to see glimpses of the side of Mike a person could only see once he or she pushed passed the shyness he hid well behind a bold and confident exterior.
“Well,” he said, holding my hand, his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll just have to see how you handle distance. I travel a lot with me job.”
I laughed. “I dated a guy in the Navy. Being gone during the week for work ain’t nothing,” I boasted. And meant it.
“Really?” said Mike. “It will be interesting to see how this works out.”
He kissed me goodbye before I slid into the car. He promised to call me. As I drove away, I was already anticipating the next time I heard from him. Days could last forever. Especially at the start of a long, interesting summer.
* In later conversations about our first date, Mike revealed to me that a guy never invites a girl into his home at the end of a date be polite. He assured me that if a guy invites you in, he’s interested.
Date: Sunday, May 31, 1998 22:50:15
To: Heidi E. (Home Account)
From: Mike F. (Home Account)
Subj: Making of Plans???
Well, I hope that you got home all right. No one showed up at my door looking for you. :)
I forgot to ask you about some play tickets. I am a season ticket holder at the Palace Theater, and therefore have tickets to see “RENT”. It is on Saturday, June 20th at 7:30PM. Interested in attending?
Let me know,
Date: Monday, June 1, 1998 23:55:47
To: Mike F. (Home Email)
From: Heidi E. (Home Email)
Subj: You don’t have to ask me twice :)
Hey, I am so glad to hear from you!! I’ve got to tell you, I spent all day Sunday talking my best friend into going parachuting this summer. She’s always wanted to do it (which I didnt know). What I had to talk her into was the money issue. But tonight we read further down the flyer and noticed that the rates are cheaper if you go during the week. So I said, “Hell, I could use another vacation day and do it.” We went to a concert tonight at Blossom, and every opportunity I could get I plugged, “And we could always go parachuting…. July??” It’s funny because she was talking about our Cedar Point trip that we are taking June 25th. I told her that we could just cancel that since we havent bought tickets and GO SKYDIVING… I’ve almost got her sunk! I even offered to pay half of hers. I know that if she went, I’d jump for sure.
So how’s that for salesmanship? And YOU thought I looked bored there! I was absorbing the whole picture. And I liked it.
>Well, I hope that you got home all right. No one showed up at
>my door looking for you. :)
Heh ;) Didnt you get the email I sent from work on Sunday?* Erm… maybe the ole THF server was running at its regular molasses pace again…
>I forgot to ask you about some play tickets. I am a season
>ticket holder at the Palace Theater, and therefore have tickets
>to see “RENT”. It is on Saturday, June 20th at 7:30PM.
>Interested in attending?
Sure, I’d be interested! I love going to the theatre (I’d better, with an English degree!). I’ve heard of “Rent” too. That’d be fun!
Well, it’s almost 3am (I just got back from the concert), and even though I work at 1 tomorrow, I still need to get to bed. Take care…
*Lost in the ether: The following message was sent Sunday May 31st from my work email account but, due to some weird burp in the infant internet, Mike did not actually receive until Monday June 1, 1998 at 8:34:51.
Date: Sunday, May 31, 1998 8:35:51
To: Mike F. (Work Account)
From: Heidi E. (Work Account)
Subj: Made it home alive
Obviously I made it home okay. Not that it matters now and all since you are probably reading this on Monday. I am at work, and not too tired! Incredible. It’s going to be a slow day, though, I can tell already!
That check engine light on my car was on the whole way home, but then it didn’t come back on this morning when I started it. I’m going to have someone look at it anyway. There’s obviously something up with it. Which kind of ticks me off since I just had a wheel allignment and new front tires put on it. Guess you won’t have to worry about stuff like this on your car for awhile! ;)
Anyway, I had a great time Saturday. Just wanted to make sure you knew it. Probably won’t be quite so shy the next time we cross paths!
Taking it easy on overtime this week for some much needed rest. See you later.