Well hello there lovely readers of this fabulous blog. I’m sandyb from ReinventingSandyB.com – I’m blogging my way through my last year as a 20-something, checking everything off of my “Before I Turn 30 List” and telling the tale! I’m a girl asking herself, “What’s next in my life?” and digging for the answer.
Today I am thoroughly pumped to post on Blonde Monde. This is one of my favorite blogs because it’s so diverse. I mean, hello! Fashion, dating, daily outfit pics (my personal vice) and, lately, even some posts that have personally pulled at my heartstrings.
These gals are mysterious and lovely, all at once, and are making waves in the blog world. Thanks again, ladies, for having me over!
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I’ve had many, many boyfriends, but only one “first date” ever.
As a teenager, I would meet guys through friends or know them from school, so that first date and “getting to know you” phase was usually glazed over. We went from friendship to relationship, with no stops in between.
Because of this, I didn’t have a first real date until I was 18.
After a late shift working at a big box store one night, my boyfriend at the time decided that “hanging with his boys” was more important than coming to pick me up, like he had promised. I was stranded, down and out. But I was a quick thinker, even back then, and moved to plan B: Get a new ride.
There was a cute, quiet guy (with a last name nobody could pronounce) working late that night, too. He had a car. With my only two prospects for a ride home being the creepy guy who worked in the automotive department or the cute guy with the impossible surname, I figured I’d go for the latter. I mean, who cared about his last name? It’s not like I was going to marry the guy.
Fast forward, I’m now in the cute guy’s car (let’s call him “Rob”, because, well, that’s his name) and I’m digging the vibe. The car is a rusty 1984 Oldsmobile. Several times during the ride, Rob reaches across me to stop the vents from rattling at the red lights. I don’t mind this at all and actually find it endearing; he’s trying to make the car somehow seem more appealing by muffling its strange sounds. He wants me to be comfortable. So what if he has to get a little closer to me to do so – he smells terrific. It is the first time I ever feel truly fluttery about a guy. I’m so excited that I sort of want to vomit, but I like that feeling. It’s new. I most definitely want to kiss him.
A few weeks pass and my boyfriend – the loser with the “guy friends” – stiffs me yet again. I see this is beginning to be a pattern and decide to cut my losses. He cries, I roll my eyes. We’re both over it in a matter of days.
Back in the Oldsmobile one cold December night, Rob is driving me home again because I conveniently forget to tell my dad to pick me up after a shift (tricky, eh?). On the ride to my house, Rob learns that I’ve recently dumped Sir Stiffs-A-Lot, because I tell him. I want him to know this. As he drops me off, the question is finally asked, at last. The date is set and I am over the moon!
Date night: It’s Saturday and he picks me up from work at 9 p.m. It is December 12, 1998.
Our date, much to my mother’s chagrin, doesn’t end until 3 a.m. As I slip into my room, my mother telling me that only “boys up to no good keep you out that late”, I recount the evening and let it all soak in:
We dined at a quaint Italian restaurant, and then drove downtown to take in the city’s Christmas lights and bustle of the weekend. He puts his arms around my shoulder, twice, for warmth – it feels wonderful. My stomach feels like a sea of knots. We dash in and out of small, out of the way bars (yes, my fake I.D. in tow) enjoying wine he recommends and that I’ve never tried before. Finally, we end up at a local coffee shop and talk well into the night. We can’t seem to get enough of it. This is better than dessert, I think to myself. How did I not notice him before?
As it turns out, it is one of the most special nights of my life. No guy has ever made me feel like this, and no other guy ever will again- I married the cute guy with the funny last name after all, exactly nine years later on December 12, 2007.
He still makes my stomach flutter. And, luckily, the vomit feeling has long subsided.
