There is something I love about planes. I love watching them coast along in the sky towards a destination unknown. In fact, that is one of the main reasons I love travelling, the rush of excitement and anticipation as you are heading to a place you have never been before, a new adventure, much like a first date.
The first date is la cite de plus importance. It can go horribly wrong or amazingly right. On my first date with Mr. X I was excited. I knew very little about him: only his educational background, current job and country of origin. Nothing more and nothing less. As I got off the subway, a sharp pang of fear rushed across my chest. I guess it was the realization that I was actually going to meet him. What if he was weird, or we couldn’t have a proper conversation, what if he was dangerous?
I walked to the restaurant; as I approached, on first reflection, it was small and quaint, cozy even. When I walked in, the waitress came up to me and asked if I wanted a table. I said that I was looking for Mr. X. She smiled and said, ‘is that him?’ pointing to a guy not too far away from me. I knew instantly that it was him. Apart from the fact that I recognized the back of his head, the restaurant had only two customers: a man seated alone at a table and a family of four. Seeing as he told me that he was waiting for me, the choice was an obvious one.
I felt empowered realizing that I could see him but he still had no idea what I looked like, what I smelt like. I walked towards him and said his name. He got up and I could finally see his face. His face… insert blush here. Pleasantly surprised, I smiled. He hugged me warmly and parted his pink lips showing his perfectly white teeth. He gestured towards the empty chair across from him and sat down. As I sat, I realized that this might not be such a bad idea after all.
We exchanged pleasantries and he asked about my journey to the restaurant. As we nervously discussed my journey there, we were listening to each other, intently. How we both spoke, intonation and accents, so much so, that half way through my explanation he asked where I grew up. He stated that he could hear a mélange of sounds. As I explained further, he sat and listened, fascinated. This led to us discussing where we have travelled to in the world, our love for beaches and out of that we discussed family and how many kids we wanted (I know right). We grew more and more comfortable with each other. I was laughing, so was he. He teased, I teased. At this point I was so happy I chose to go on this date. He seemed amazing. We even discussed our quirky talents, and how we enjoy keeping busy. He told me about his love for the work he was doing. I was genuinely impressed.
He also liked to be in control of the situation. Not in a domineering kind of way but after I chose what I wanted, he told he waitress what we were both having, and even when we went somewhere else after dinner for drinks, I was unsure why he wanted to change venues even though between the three we went to, the choice before and the choice after seemed alright to me. Maybe he wanted a specific ambiance. So I freed it. I guess guys like things to be a certain way. He handled the bill – both times. I was taken aback. Not a lot of men do that these days. I even asked him if he wanted to split it, just to be sure, but he said he could handle it, so I let him.
By the end of the night we spoke about all sorts of things: periods, bloated stomachs, gyming, comfort eating, similar dislike for coasters etc. All in all, it was an amazing experience, which culminated in securing our next date, polished off with a time and place. Although the place for our next date is a matter of debate between us, I think I might just have my way...
The contents of this piece are not reflective of the authors personal life