October 25, 2008
*Alright, alright. I am now getting around to what I said I would do. Just a little late. So sue me. I’ve been busy. My first date with Rachel, I must admit, was not my finest romantic moment. Actually, I don’t have very many romantic moments. I spent most of my life trying hard to avoid watching romantic movies. I mostly stuck to the ones where things blow up, and so I missed out on many valuable lessons on how to be a proper Don Juan. Nevertheless, I embarked on this date with a sense of adventure, and a near complete indifference to the rules of proper dating. I didn’t even know what those rules were. In fact, I still don’t.
My thinking, at the time, was that I had only talked to her on the phone. So the worst thing that could happen is that she could hate me and we never speak again. I might miss her sexy voice a little bit, but I could get over that. So I saw no purpose in pretending to be suave. If I got past this first date, somehow convincing her I was a smooth man, then she would figure out the truth soon enough. After all, I couldn’t possibly keep up the ruse for very long. So I decided to just let it ride.
I was also pretty much broke at the time. I had very little money. But for some reason I decided that this was not a problem. I asked her to go with me to this exhibit I wanted to see at the Utah Museum of Fine Art. Apparently that was a smart move, and was seen as impressive because it wasn’t the same old thing that every guy does for first dates. I’m not sure that I would have done anything different even if I hadn’t been in poverty at the time. I was just keeping it within what I know. I like art.
I picked her up from her house. It was a little bit tricky to find it, but I left early so that I could get lost on the way and still make it on time. I’m very experienced in the department of getting lost. But I’m never late, and I have always made it back home in the end.
I wasn’t entirely confident in knowing what she would look like, exactly. I had seen pictures, but you can never trust pictures. I know this very well. So I had this deep anxiety that she would have a sister or something that would open the door, and I wouldn’t be sure if it was her or not and it would cause a very intense situation. (This actually happened to me once.) I should have asked her beforehand if she had any sisters. It turns out she did not, and she answered the door promptly, avoiding any confusion. She did, however, look much, much cuter than her pictures which were pretty cute to begin with. I don’t consider myself overly shallow, but I am a man.
I was very badly dressed. Even I can’t really deny it. I just wore what I had. And it turns out that I didn’t have much. When a guy spends a lot of years doing nothing but working at UPS, and mountain bike racing, and camping, and getting lost in Iceland, and those sort of things, he doesn’t really take time to develop a proper wardrobe. That’s just the way it goes. My car wasn’t very impressive either. I had just bought it a few days before so that I would have a car for this date. Well, maybe I bought it for other reasons too, but that was one of the reasons. Because of my poor financial situation I was forced to buy a car on the cheap. That would come back to haunt me for a very long time, so let’s not dwell on those dark times.
As we drove North from Cottonwood Heights to the University we made pleasant small talk. Just the sort of talk that people make who have never met before. She asked me if I was nervous. Of course I was. But she told me I didn’t look nervous. I took that as a compliment. After all, if she only knew how I felt inside she would just laugh at me for sure. But she explained to me that she was so nervous that...never mind, let’s just say she told me she was very nervous. I didn’t think she looked nearly as nervous as I felt, but I had no doubt about my ability to look calm. Calm is my only facial expression most of the time. My life has mostly taught me that it never helps to lose your composure in high stress situations. Although I have now learned that it sometimes frustrates girlfriends when they can’t read you.
We arrived at the museum without incident. I paid the admission fee. I wasn’t a total bum. It turned out that we had missed the exhibit that I had wanted to see. My pal Walt had lied to me about the dates, it seems. But I will take the blame for not checking. Nevertheless, there is always a lot of art to see in the UMFA, so I took it in stride. As we explored the museum and all its art I had no idea how I was supposed to behave in this situation so I just decided to act as if I was hanging out in this museum with any of my old friends. Apparently this decision paid off because Rachel was very impressed that I didn’t hover around her all the time. If she wanted to go look at something across the room, and I was looking at something, I didn’t just follow her over there. Apparently space is a valuable thing. But at the time I thought she would think I was totally neglecting her.
I don’t even remember anything of what we looked at while we were there. Those details are all gone now. After we left we went to get some food at the Training Table, where I continued to behave badly and break all the rules of dating. I won’t go into detail. I don’t remember it all that well either except by what I have been told. Apparently I talked about myself a lot. I’m sure I was deciding to just lay everything out on the table and see what happened. A lot of people can’t handle my weirdness, so I probably just figured it best to get it out of the way.
After that I took her home, and I don’t remember that part at all. I just assume I took her home because if I left her at the Training Table she would have dumped me right then for sure. I don’t remember the end of the date at all though. I do remember that later I was debating in my mind whether or not I should call her again. I figured I had struck out in every possible way. I had flouted every rule of how men are supposed to behave in order to be attractive to women. She would reject me for sure, but hey, it had been a learning experience. Next time I would be better prepared to face down my weird anxieties. But I still wanted to call her again. I wanted to do better. I wanted another chance with this girl.
Although most of the date is a blur now, it was clear to me then that I liked her a lot. She was smart, and pretty, and laughed at my ridiculous adventures. (Some people just stare in horror when I try to explain myself to them). She had some good stories of her own. I was very impressed that she seemed to be a girl who could hold her own in life and wasn't just a crazy manhunter. I felt good enough about her that I figured I better follow through on it, or I would be sorry. So I told myself that I would call her again, and if she wanted to shoot me down than that was her choice. If she didn’t want to see me again, then she would just have to say so.
And so I called her again. Why not? And somehow here we are, a year later, still together. I don’t understand it, but I’m grateful for whatever it is that I did right. Being with her has made me feel a lot better about myself, and I know that she loves me for who I am. She sees through all my silliness and lets me keep it real. I don't want to be with anyone else. I know that she is right for me, and I hope that I am right for her. And that’s the story, or the parts I remember anyway.
