I guess I never really told you about how Mr. Darcy and I met, did I?
You all read about my foray back into the world of on line dating. I even wrote about what I was looking for. I was clear back in November that I was seeking My Person. Not some random roll in the hay. Not someone to grab a drink with and shoot the shit with. I have a lot of friends, close relationships, and an active social life. I didn’t need time fillers. I wanted to find something special, spectacular, meaningful. I was losing patience and my hope was faltering. . .
And then the Universe brought me Mr. Darcy.
I wrote to him based on cute photos and his use of the word “shenanigans” in his profile. I know, I know- not really the best reasons but I was at the point where I was forcing myself to make moves because I felt stagnant. I suppose this story would be more romantical if I had said it was love at first glance or his profile described my ideal man. But come on. We’re talking about an on line dating site. Let’s not go overboard in our expectations.
We exchanged emails at a steady pace and then we had the phone call wherein we talked for a couple hours then the texting started (a big deal since he had, up to that point, not been big into texting). All this was occurring between holidays so we were not able to meet until the day after Christmas.
We met in my neighborhood at a local cafe. When I arrived, a couple minutes late, I didn’t see him in the restaurant so I grabbed a table and texted him. Turns out there was an entire back room that I was unaware of and he’d been holding a table there for awhile. He was worried about being late because he tends to get lost since he’s not from this side of the water (he’s an east sider- locals will know what I mean). He walked up to my table after receiving my text and we hugged hello and decided to return to his more private table in back.
And then we proceeded to talk and laugh and eat and drink for (at least) four hours. I remember seeing what time it was and being totally shocked. Time had flown.
We weren’t exactly done hanging out so we went across the street to a bar. As we walked out of the restaurant I was fussing with the belt of my famous blue raincoat. He stood there patiently and when I was done he gave me his arm to take as we walked. I could not remember the last time someone offered me their arm.
The night wore into morning and despite not wanting the date to end, we decided we both needed to get to bed. (Not together! Sheesh. It’s only the first date, gutterbrains. Heh.) He offered me a ride home which I accepted. When we got to his car he opened the door for me. People still do this? It was only about eight blocks until my building and I wanted the drive to last longer. He parked, turned off the car and walked me to my door.
I’d been thinking about kissing him since about an hour into our date. I was hoping he had the same thought. We walked the marbled steps to the front entrance and stood there exchanging pleasantries- it was fun, we should do it again, thank you, etc. We hugged. (He’s a good hugger.) We pulled apart and he leaned in and kissed me. (He’s a good kisser too.) I don’t know why I was a bit shocked- I wanted him to do that but he’d been so gentlemanly all evening I figured he’d wait until a future date to plant one on me. So we kissed. And we kissed some more. And decorum told me I should probably not make out on the front stoop of the apartment building I manage so with some hesitation (would he think me too bold, brazen, a hussy?) I invited him up.
But it was perfectly innocent. Just kissing. Just really good kissing. We tore ourselves away as it neared 2am with promises of a second date.
And that? Was the beginning.
Of the rest of my life.