Cherie – Chapter 1 – Love At First Swipe

“She has youth and beauty, and as I’m finding out about myself, I’m bored with anything else. She fits the criteria. Young. Attractive. Slender. She seems intelligent. Articulate. Good communication skills for the most part. Likes scary movies and thrillers. Getting her education. Works two jobs. What could go wrong?”

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I was literally about to begin writing this, and I just got a text from Cherie, so I hope that means something. I’ve responded back with “You must be psychic! I was just thinking about you.” (I was thinking about her because I was just about to write the first half of this very chapter.)

We swiped right on each other on Tinder. Cherie is a 26-year-old attractive, fit, black woman whose zodiac sign is Scorpio. When we first connected I sent her a simple, hello. She got back to me and said she was doing well, but she sitting in a boring class. She’s apparently studying developmental neuroscience. Once the small talk and pleasantries were dismissed, I asked her my standard question. “What prompted you to swipe right on my profile?”

She expressed that she liked the things I wrote in my bio. She said she likes to laugh and dine out, and like me, she’s a good listener. That’s pretty standard fare so far. Everybody likes to laugh and go out to dinner.

I truly hope that she’s a good listener, because I like to talk.

Then she asked me the same question. I told her that she seemed like an intelligent person who wanted to do big things. I really just read her brief profile about her being a neuroscience and psychology major, that had high dreams and aspirations, and spun it back to her in my own words.

I’ve heard from several of the women I’ve spoken to on Tinder that many times when they connect with someone, there is this long period of texting. Sometimes it doesn’t materialize into anything. Since I’ve operated in the real world my whole life, I like to establish things soon, and try to get a meeting. Sound like I’m in sales? I am. Depending on the client you always want to close as soon as possible. Keeps your numbers up and your pipeline full. So I move right in and ask her if she’s like to meet up for a drink sometime.

She thanks me for the compliment and agrees she has big dreams. (I know, I read it on your profile.) She says that having a drink with me sounds like a great idea. That was fast. My next response was positive affirmation and my cell number. She says she’ll send me a text.

Now, that looks like it happened very quickly but it actually didn’t. I was living my life all day, and she was probably in and out of classes and whatever else. That brief and pointed exchange began at 9:45am and ended at 3:30pm. Five and a half hours later! Now I just had to wait to see if she was going to text me.

Within moments she did. We continued our conversation off Tinder. She went on to tell me that she works as a medical assistant at a hospital, and also works at a pediatric office! 2 jobs and school? Wow! I tell her briefly my stuff, and she goes on to say that she loves her jobs because she gets to help people, but they can be stressful. I then hit her with how I get my energy from people and enjoy bringing people together personally and professionally. She likes that, and reveals that she’s a shy person at first but then she opens up after a bit.

I try to get her out for a Wednesday night drink.

I don’t hear from her for the rest of the day. She finally gets back to me and apologizes for the silence. She had a very long day with school and work. She re-affirms that she’d like to meet me for a drink, but she works late on Wednesdays but the weekend is probably better. I tell her I’m free Saturday. She’s available in the afternoon. I lock it down for 2pm Saturday. I tell her I’ll pick the spot. She thinks that sounds great.

That was early in the week. A lot can happen in 5 days. So I ping her Wednesday just to keep the current going. We participate in some light banter about the weather and our days events.

I ask another one of my standards: “What do you like to do when you’re not working or studying?” She likes movies, dining out and dancing, etc. I tell her I’m a former musician and not much of a dancer, but love movies and dining out too. I want to know what kind of movies she likes because that would be a splendid second date.

She likes scary movies and thrillers. I tell her I like the same. (I actually like a myriad of film genres but for this exchange, liking the same thing she likes works) I follow with “Let’s go to the movies together soon!” See what I did there?  I’m actually setting up a second date with a woman I haven’t even met for the first time yet. I’m reading her responses. She’s smart. I don’t ask or suggest, I simply say: “Let’s go see a movie together soon.” She responds with, “That sounds like a great idea. Notice how she uses the word “Sounds?” She is a good listener like she said. It reminds me of a thing that my ex-girlfriend Michelle does when I talk to her. She stays attentive to what I’m saying and usually mirrors my words back to me in affirmation. I like that Cherie is doing the same thing. Michelle does that all the time. (See: Michelle – 2007 to Present – A Brand New Day) I love Michelle for that. and she doesn’t even know about her gift. (Ordoes she?)

Cherie says she hasn’t seen too many commercials for scary movies lately. I tell her I’ll look into it. She responds that she thinks that’s nice. I like her manners already. I just hope that if I take her to a scary movie she doesn’t start yelling things like: “Don’t go in there!” or “Get out the house, fool!”

I’m going to go ahead and apologize to everyone reading this in advance for that last bit.

It’s getting late. As a gentle reminder, I tell her she seems really cool, and that I’m really looking forward to meeting her on Saturday.

Crickets.

But at 7:30 the next morning I get a mirrored response. “Good Morning. Thanks you seem cool as well. I’m looking forward to meeting you.” I simply respond with a smiley face. Which brings us back to tonight when I began this chapter. As I finish this part she has responded. “Lol, I highly doubt I’m psychic but thanks. It’s a busy but productive day as well.”

The date is supposed to happen on Saturday. We’re supposed to meet for a drink. It’s Thursday and there is some small talk texts leading up to it. I want to keep the embers glowing until we meet. We chat about our days, and what shows we’re watching. I ask her if she is a beer, wine or a cocktail girl. This way I can gauge where we should meet. She says she’s a beer girl. Then she says she doesn’t really like alcohol and then says: “What about you?” I tell her I enjoy an occasional drink socially. (A bold-faced lie) I ask her if she’d rather meet for brunch instead of a drink on Saturday.

She chooses brunch. I ask her if she has any dietary concerns. She says no, but she is a really unhealthy but picky eater, and thanks me for asking and do I have any. I tell her I can eat anything. So I ask her if she has any preferences. She loves seafood and breakfast food. That sounds perfectly fine to me. I thought of several places I could take her, but went with my go to: Square 1682. The staff knows me. The food’s great, and the service is on point. She can have seafood or breakfast food and so can I.

Friday I text her a “Happy Friday” meme around 5pm. I tell her I look forward to meeting her at Square 1682 for brunch Saturday at 2pm.

She replies: “Where is that at?” I wanted to reply: “I keep forgetting that I am the only one on Earth with iPhone technology because I came from the future, and I also don’t end my sentences with prepositions!” Of course I don’t.

But I do say: “Here, let me google that for you.” And send her a screenshot of Square 1682’s webpage from my phone. She thanks me like nothing happened, because to her, technically nothing did. She closes with: “I’m looking forward to meeting you too.” (Redeemed)

So far just texting her, I like this chick. I’m really looking forward to meeting her Saturday. She seems really sweet. I just pray that she isn’t just meeting with me for free food and drinks. I mean, that could happen. It’s happened before. She is a student. But she has youth and beauty, and as I’m finding out about myself, I’m bored with anything else. She fits the criteria. Young. Attractive. Slender. She seems intelligent. Articulate. Good communication skills for the most part. Likes scary movies and thrillers. Getting her education. Works two jobs. What could go wrong?

 

 

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Foibles, phobias and feet!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

I get home from the best date ever and go directly to my computer so I can turn it on and send M a message telling him it was the best date ever!!! Well, not quite in those words because that would be juvenile!! When I get there M is already online waiting for me. I said “M, […]

via Foibles, phobias and feet!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

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Tales of Rock – Bob Dylan, The Beatles, and a Joint

During the event it was reported that Epstein said “I’m so high I’m on the ceiling. I’m up on the ceiling.”

In late August of 1964, The Beatles started their first official U.S. tour. The group began at Cow Palace in San Francisco and finished at the Paramount Theatre in New York. On August 28-29 The Beatles played at Forest Hills Stadium in New York and were befriended by Bob Dylan. The two parties were introduced by the writer Al Aronowitz at New York’s Delmonico Hotel.

After a brief chat with The Beatles, Bob Dylan asked John, Paul, Ringo, George, and Brian Epstein if they wanted to smoke a joint. Epstein looked apprehensive and said that the band hadn’t tried marijuana for years. Dylan was immediately surprised because he had been under the impression that they smoked weed because of the song I Want to Hold Your Hand. He mistook the lyrics “I can’t hide” with “I get high.”

The Beatles were never one to back down from a new experience and agreed. Lennon took the joint and passed it to Ringo whom he called his “royal taster.” Ringo smoked the entire thing, not knowing the tradition of sharing the joint between people. In response, Dylan rolled a joint for each of The Beatles and they smoked. During the event it was reported that Epstein said “I’m so high I’m on the ceiling. I’m up on the ceiling.” McCartney got more philosophical and asked Mal Evans to write down everything he was saying.

 

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Kimberly – 2014 – Davio’s Dinner Date

I found Kimberly on OKCupid. She was hot, her essays were smart, and I laughed about half a dozen times reading her profile, whereas most profiles I read barely made me smile. According to the site, she responded to messages often (which surprised me), and I messaged her.

After not hearing back from her for two and a half weeks, I had almost forgotten about her when one morning, she emailed me a note:

“Can you meet me at Davio’s? Tonight at 8? Come alone?”

That night was a Monday. I didn’t have anything going on, but the brevity of her message was simultaneously intriguing, and mysterious. That latter word bears repetition. “Come alone?” As opposed to bringing my friend’s kindergarten class (my friend is a kindergarten teacher who stormed out of her last birthday party, held at a restaurant packed with family and friends, when she didn’t receive the magazine subscription that she wanted. Like a kindergartener with progeria.).

I arrived alone at Davio’s, a decent Italian place in Rittenhouse at 7:30. I was early because I just had a weird impression from her message. Maybe she was just being quirky and fun, as lots of girls were wont to be after Mayim Bialik turned “weird eccentric loner” into “quirky and fun.”

Speaking of, Kimberly arrived 7:50, dressed up like a Gothic French maid. She sported a short skirt with black and white striped leggings, and a lacy black trim around most of her outfit. Fun and quirky.

The first words out of her mouth were, “Are you alone?”

I looked around to confirm that I was, then said, “Yes. You?”

She said, “I picked this place because they have candlelight.”

She asked the host to seat us in a corner of the restaurant. “Away from windows,” she instructed. Perhaps she was afraid of electric lights. And drafts. And thinking straight.

We were soon at our corner, candlelit table. Then, she said, “Okay” about 50 times, as if preparing to tell me the meaning of life, who really shot JFK, or that she was pregnant with a chicken.

She said, “Have you heard of Amway?”

It’s a shame, as I was really hoping for the JFK thing. I said, “Yes.”

She blurted, “Nothing could be further from the truth! It’s a legitimate corporation with over 500–no, 50 years ago, Rich DeVos and Jay… something… urgh, okay, sorry, okay, okay, I’m doing this wrong, okay…”

I said, “Why don’t you take a deep breath and start at the beginning? Minus anything about Amway.”

“People have bad impressions about it, but nothing could be further from the truth! It’s a legitimate corporation with over 50 years of experience building businesses and lifelong relationships from the ground up.”

“Not interested.”

“Okay. Okay. You just need the desire to succeed. It was founded 50 years ago by Rich DeVos and Jay, it’s a legitimate–”

“I’m not interested. Can we talk about something else?”

“I don’t want to.” She looked up, as if straining for the right words. She had seemingly practiced her sales pitch, assuming that the person to whom she’d be pitching would be extremely interested and therefore not really need much of a sales pitch to begin with.

I threw in my best shot. “You look really good.” And she did. That’s the unfortunate part of it all. She looked great, and her profile was humorous and articulate. What happened?

“Nothing could be further from the truth…” she said, but to herself, like she was trying really hard to remember what came next.

The waiter came by for our drink orders. I opted for a Jack and Coke (that kind of night) and she ordered water. I tried over and over to talk about something other than her ludicrous sales pitch, and finally, I seemed to engage her on the topic of what it was like to be a high school music teacher (which is what she was).

The waiter delivered our drinks and took our food orders. Kimberly talked about the challenges she faced and the shows she wanted to direct. It was refreshing, and I can honestly say that that was the best part of the date. I really enjoyed myself.

When I followed up something she said with, “Isn’t Rent a little tough to do, in a high school setting?”

She replied, “Have you given any more thought to it?”

“To what? Rent? It’s a good show. Not my favorite.”

“Amway.”

“There’s a show about Amway? That sucks.”

“Okay. Founded in 1959, over 50 years ago, by Rich DeVos, it’s a legitimate–”

“Kimberly!” I snapped.

That stopped her, but her lips quivered, like she was bursting to go on. I said, “Mention it again, and I’m moving to a separate table, to eat my dinner alone. And I really, really mean it.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Lots of people think it’s, they have common bad impressions about it, but–”

I stood up from the table, likely more dramatically than was necessary. I found our waiter, briefly explained that things weren’t working out on my date, and asked him if he’d be cool with splitting the check to two different tables. He was gracious enough to help me out on that. I picked a table out of Kimberly’s view, and ate my dinner in peace. I didn’t see her leave, but I didn’t look for her. When I left, I didn’t check to see if she was still there or not.

Crazy!

 

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Phicklephilly – 1967 Pontiac GTO – Today

“Paint job’s ok, but there’s rust, and the chrome is nowhere near what it once was. No way. Pieces fall away every year, now more than ever. But the car still runs, and when I drop the clutch and go, the car sings a symphony better than any new hybrid I’ve ever met in the last 10 years.”

“Write drunk and edit sober.”Ernest Hemingway

I feel like I’m midnight blue ’67 Pontiac GTO All original parts, some missing.

The car looks decent despite it’s age.

The engine and spirit of the car are great and it can still get up and roar against any new car off the lot, but its an old machine.

It’s falling apart but “the Goat” is still very valuable and has a lot of great history and memories in it. The upholstery is fraying. There’s a bit of rust. The struts are going’ the transmissions fucked.

The oil sometimes leaks.

The car is old.

The car is slowly falling apart.

I feel it.

But as a machine it’s still a badass ’67 GTO.

People love it. Girls love it, but if they looked under the hood they’d see that the beast is starting to fail.

It looks like a worn car form 40 years ago but it still runs great on the track based on its current performance, but inside it’s going.

It’s just time and gravity.

The power plant can somehow burn it up like when it was born but in the day-to-day, if you spend any time with the car you’ll learn that it’s seen a lot of miles and is now missing some parts. There has been no restoration. It still runs but with fewer parts than when it arrived off the assembly line.

The car was driven hard and saw some glory days and won a lot of races, but it lost a lot too, and suffers the scars of going through the guard rail and flipping over.

There’s been a little restoration on the mind of the car and that’s what held it together all these years but its had some really shitty owners and drivers that took this lovely car and ran it into the ground.

But it still runs.

The engine still has a lot of get up and go because that’s what it was built for. But it will probably get harder (or softer) every year because the car isn’t getting any younger.

Paint job’s ok, but there’s rust, and the chrome is nowhere near what it once was. No way. Pieces fall away every year, now more than ever. But the car still runs, and when I drop the clutch and go, the car sings a symphony better than any new hybrid I’ve ever met in the last 10 years.

So the old horse still has it. Because that was a well-built car in the 60’s, by people who knew how to make a good product, not by their design, just the vehicle that came through them from their ancestors. I like them better. The assembly line technicians that raised me sort of hated working with each other but they put out some good cars. I have three sisters to prove it. We have a solid line.

But this old classic is losing some of its shine, and I can fix that, if I can just get the things going now that I want to now. If new business takes off, the GTO will sing like it did in the sixties, but in today’s world. Better than ever. An old muscle car that can outrun the fastest production car you have coming off the line straight out of college.

Maybe like every guy my age I’m clinging to my youth, but I know I’m not. I like being the age I am. I don’t want to be the fool I once was. There is a whole world ahead of me and for us all, gentlemen. It doesn’t have to be us drowning in our past and drinking the poison hoping all of the people who broke our hearts die. That’s bullshit. you can’t evolve through that. You have to forgive and evolve beyond that. My father once said, “every man dies, not every man lives.” I live by that shit, man.

Forgive everyone. Don’t drink the poison, let go of the bars of your prison and walk the fuck out, gentleman. Doesn’t matter what direction… just take a step.

We’re a bunch of old cars trying to navigate the traffic of today’s world and love again. There are a lot of crazy old cars out there and even more wacky new models, but I believe there are some classics out there still on the road, that would love to pull up along side you and maybe meet up at the drive through for a movie and a milkshake.

Keep driving. She’s out there looking for your too.

 

 

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Keila – 2013 to 2017 – Fleas, Ticks and a Series of Bad Decisions

I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm.

I’ve decided to stop writing about Alice and Keila. Alice is a dear friend, but we don’t do anything interesting enough to write about. Hopefully, this will be the last time I write about Keila.

I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm. She lasted about two years there. Alice felt that she would be a good match, because she was a fearless networker and had no problem meeting new people.

But Keila has severe ADD. It’s really annoying to the rest of us who can calmly focus.

I’ve decided to cut her off, because of what she’s done to Alice. My loyalty is to Alice, and I don’t even really see Keila anymore.

Then I realized something. Some of the worst women I have ever met in this city all came through Keila. Birds of a feather flock together. Keila is like this big poodle that’s crawling with fleas and ticks. Because that’s what some these people are. Here’s the list:

Carol (See: Carol – 2014 to 2016 – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction) Crazy wacko who lives with her crazy mother and can’t keep a man or a job. Mess!

Harper (See: Harper – 2014 to 2015 – Plane Crash) Just a straight up lying, fraud and a whore who uses people. Awful!

Bibi (See: Bibi – 2015 – Matinee Madness) Rude, alcoholic loser who can’t keep a job or stay out of rehab.

Brooke (See: Brooke – 2015 to Present – Legs for Days) Okay this one came through Keila but I like her. She doesn’t see Keila anymore.

And many more whack job people along the way.

I’ve cut off all of these people (Except Brooke) and what I’ve needed to do all along was to cut off the head of this two legged dragon. So that’s what I’ve done. I’m done with Keila. She has these networking events and all of these desperate women and nutjobs go to thesee events. She always introduces them as “her new frends” but they’re not her friends. They’re normally desperate souls that attach themselves to her temporarily but after she gets what she wants from them she’s on to the next shiny object that’s her current distraction.

So after what Keila pulled on my friend Alice, I’m done with this one.

There’s some other people I need to slowly faze out as well. There not as godawful as Harper and Carol, but it’s time to start thinning the heard.

Live and learn baby. Step over the detritus in your life and move on.

Stay tuned!

 

 

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Rebecca – 2016 to Present -Ghost Girl

“I really want to kiss you.”

“So kiss me.” I leaned in our lips brushed lightly. It wasn’t an overly passionate kiss. Instead, it was a tender, eager one. All too soon, it was over.

I’ve been on a lot of dates. But I always wanted one of those dates you see in movies where everything just kind of comes together naturally and provides an amazing time for the couple. I’ll never forget the first time it finally happened for me. (At least in my opinion)

To be honest, I was part of the reason I never had that movie moment date before. Okay, so I was all of the reason. I over planned before dates and way over analyzed after. I thought about my dates so much that they could never seem spontaneous or natural. True, I occasionally had a few moments during a date, but never the whole date. This was probably due to my anxiety.

Perhaps the reason this particular date went so well is that I didn’t have time to plan, much less over plan. It had been awhile since I’d seen Rebecca. We’re both so busy. I was just happy she agreed to meet up with me again. I barely had time to run home and change. I did of course. And brushed my teeth, and put on extra deodorant, and made sure my hair looked decent, and spent a few minutes repeating, “You’ll be fine,” at the face in the mirror. My reflection seemed unconvinced.

I made it to her restaurant just before it closed. Although she has a great job she’s one of those people that always keep one hand back in their old life. I know another girl that does this. Rebecca works one dinner shift a week at a local restaurant. I think it’s cool. It’s like me with the real day job and working at the tanning salon nights and weekends.

I went inside and tried to ignore her ex-boyfriend who was a cook and who clearly did not try to ignore me at all. I shifted on my feet uncomfortably and attempted small talk with the hostess. She wouldn’t stop smiling and told me how happy she was that I was about to take her friend out. It just added to the pressure and my nervousness. I just have strong feelings for Rebecca. There’s just that “something” about her.

Finally, my date walked out. She wore a brown leather jacket over her uniform. She looked tired from her shift. There was a grease stain on her collar and some other food stain on the front of her blouse. She was breathtaking.

Not her usual, sheer stockings and pumps.

She looked at her feet as she walked over. She looked up at me. Her eyes seemed larger than normal, but no too big for her slender face. They were wide open, eager. My heart beat quickly.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I managed, “Ready to go?”

“Sure. What are we going to do?”

My heart beat even faster in panic. I had no idea what we were going to do. (This is really out of character for me. I am a Master dating expert!)  I had been so busy preparing for our date that I never got around to planning it. I had nothing to offer. I thought I managed to destroy our date before it even started.

I went for the change up. (What it is about this girl?)

“Uh, whatever you want to do,” I said,thinking it would at least buy me a little time.

“Really?” she asked, “What I want to do?” Her eyes widened (which didn’t seem possible) and she looked at me differently. She seemed to express amazement, but that confused me.

“Yeah,” I said, “What you want.”

The edges of her eyes glistened like a perfectly still pool under a waning moon. I worried that I upset her, but she spoke a moment later.

Wow,” she whispered. “Can I think about it for a minute?”

“Of course,” I said. We walked outside into the chilly air. I hustled in front of her as we approached a taxi. I grabbed the handle of the passenger door and opened it for her.

“Are you opening the door for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Uh, it’s just what I do.”

She didn’t say anything, but I think she mouthed “wow” again.

She got in and I shut the door behind her. I smiled to myself.

I got in,  “So, know what you want to do?”

“Yes. I want to do something fun, but I want to go somewhere we can talk.”

In a moment of inspiration I asked, “Do you like pool?”

“Yes.”

“Then I know just the place.”

We took off down Chestnut street. We talked a bit in the cab, but the conversation kept faltering because we were both nervous.

“What’s this?” she asked me as we pulled in the parking lot of Zelner’s Putt & Play.

“It’s an indoor miniature golf course,” I explained, “And it has pool tables.”

“But it’s closed.”

“I friend works here. I have a key.”

I unlocked the doors and secured them behind us. She looked a little nervous about the locked doors.

“Do you want to do something else?” I asked, concerned.

“No, sorry, this is fine.”

We went to the pool table and I put in two quarters. Neither of us played very well. The game ended when I sunk the eight ball (yes, I know I should have let her win, but I’m a little too competitive).

I reached in my pocket for more quarters when she asked, “Can we just sit and talk?”

“Of course.”

We walked over to the stairs. We sat down and talked. For two hours. Somewhere in the middle of the conversation she looked down and twisted her feet. She cocked her head and bit her lip.

“What?” I asked.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I must have been smitten because I normally would have said, “You just did.”

“Why did you ask me out?”

“Seriously? I thought you were beautiful the moment I saw you. When I got to know you a little bit, I found out how nice you are. I would’ve asked you out sooner if you hadn’t been in a relationship.”

Her face darkened for the slightest moment, but then her mouth spread in a grin and she laughed. I never heard such laughter before and the music of it filled the empty room.

“You think I’m beautiful?” She looked at me a moment and then scrunched her eyebrows. “What is it? Are you laughing at me?” She misinterpreted my grin.

“Well, it’s just that I realized I want to do whatever it takes to see you smile and laugh again.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re even more beautiful when you smile.”

She looked down at the floor, but kept on smiling.

“I’m beautiful,” she repeated.

We talked a while longer until she had to get home.

“I don’t want to go,” she said.

“I don’t want you to.”

I took her home and we stood on the stoop in front of her house. The night was quite cold by then, but I felt warm. We stood and talked far longer than we should.

She caught me off guard when she said, “Did you know your eyes are beautiful?”

“It’s because they’re looking at you.” (Yes, I quoted Jermaine Jackson. Sue me.)

She looked down again, which she had done all night, but this time it wasn’t for as long. She leaned up a little and said, “I really want to kiss you.”

“So kiss me.” I leaned in our lips brushed lightly. It wasn’t an overly passionate kiss. Instead, it was a tender, eager one. All too soon, it was over.

“I really need to go inside,” she said.

“I know.” She turned to open her door and I continued,  “I think this is the best date I’ve ever been on.” It was certainly the least expensive. (You all know I love that)

“I know it’s the best one I’ve ever had.”

It was my turn to say, “Wow.”

“Goodnight.” she said as she gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“Yes, it was.”

“Call me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

I stood for a moment after she went inside. I smiled in the moonlight as I walked to my awaiting UBER. As I rode home, I put my fingers against my lips and smiled more. It was a great date. It was perfect.

I couldn’t wait to talk to her in the morning. I couldn’t wait to ask her out again. I couldn’t wait until our next date. I’m glad I didn’t know that night, that perfect night, would be the last date we ever went on. I’m glad I had that moment to sigh and remember one perfect date without knowing there would not be another one with her.

We can all talk about this later, but soon you’ll find out why.

 

 

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