Musing on first dates that took.
Twenty five years ago tonight, I went on a first date.
Haven’t been able to lose the dude ever since.
Not through:
* sucky law school tax exams.
* inability to shake that pesky IRS.
* when I was a millisecond from accidentally burning our first house down less than 48 hours after moving in.
This guy doesn’t scare easily.
* One baby the old fashioned way.
* Two babies by adoption.
* Infernal teeth grinding in sleep during stressful periods.
* Love of the Florida Gators when all he cared of football was the NFL and the Vikes.
* My inability to keep house. And even worse — my utter inability to train children to do same.
No, 25 years ago he picked me up. And I had to wear pink.
Last second I looked for something to wear and nothing I liked was clean.
Figures.
I like pink.
On other people.
If he knew then what he knew now — wonder if he would still ask?
It’s not like I was easy. Twenty-five years ago anyway.
Did any of your first dates stick around? Ones that you are happy they did.
** ** ** **
Here we are 25 years later.
No. That’s not us. Tonight out at dinner, we ran into Dorothy and Dan Newton.
Get this.
Today , October 3 is Dorothy’s birthday. (The date of our first date anniversary.)
Friday, October 7 is the anniversary of the day she and Dan met. (October 7 is my husband’s birthday.)
And if things couldn’t get any weirder.
I ate way too much pizza.
Here’s to another 25…
