First Date

Her head was pounding, she could barely swallow her throat was so sore. What was she thinking when she agreed to meet him for dinner? Partly she was curious. He seemed like a decent guy. She passed on the lunch invitation in his plane. She did not have that kind of time and wouldn't have been able to take off of work. If she'd gone on a weekend it would have robbed her of time spent with her daughter. No, meeting on her way home from work was about the only option and it wouldn't cost any extra for the extended childcare. If only she hadn't felt so lousy.

She pulled her car into the parking lot and looked around. He said he'd be in a white BMW. He was already there. She should have brought a change of clothes and freshened up a bit. In spite of wearing an apron, she'd spilled coffee on her pants. Her nose was stuffy and she couldn't tell, but figured she was wearing the scent of fried foods and cigarette smoke. He got out of his car when she pulled up. Darn! No time to even put on lip gloss or check her hair in the mirror. He was walking towards her.

He greeted her warmly, as if she'd just spent the last hour puttin on her best. She was glad the restaurant wasn't well lit. Maybe he wouldn't notice too much. She quickly took her seat as the hostess handed her a menu.

"Can I get you something to drink?" It felt a bit strange being on the other side of an order.

"Yes, could I have a glass of peach brandy?" She was hoping it would numb her aching throat.

"And for you sir?" The waitress turned to him.

"No thanks. I don't drink."

Stupid! It hadn't even occured to her that he might not drink. She was used to her husband who not only smoked and drank, but used drugs also. She wanted to say that normally she didn't drink but was only having the brandy because of her sore throat. But truthfully, she had been drinking lately. It took the edge off of her stress. She mumbled something about her sore throat and the brandy, but felt foolish. He seemed to have so much class.

They sat there making small talk. Her brandy arrived. It went down pretty smooth. Maybe she had been drinking too much. After a bit her throat was definately feeling a bit of numbness. In fact, it was feeling so much better, she thought she might be able to smoke a cigarette. There was a lull in the conversation, so she reached down into her purse to retrieve her smokes.

"Oooh, I hate that," he said looking across the room.

Turning her head that direction while still leaning over she asked, "what?"

"Women who smoke." Her hand was already moving the package up towards the table. Immediately she threw it back into her purse, but she'd already placed her lighter in her other hand. She sat upright.

"You don't smoke, do you?" he queried.

"Uh, no...well," she felt very sheepish. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was just reaching for my cigarettes when you said that." She laughed out loud. She didn't know what else to do. She certainly wasn't making a very good impression. When she got nervous she laughed-even at very inappropriate times.

"What's so funny?" He wanted to know. She wished she'd never agreed to this meeting. She hadn't always been this way. Nobody in her family smoked or drank. She'd only started because she'd been around it so much in her marriage. He on the other hand was thinking she was laughing at him because he was such a nerd. He'd never so much as tried a cigarette and wasn't even remotely interested in drinking and making a fool of himself.

The rest of the evening is just a blur. And that is how my first date with Michael began.