POV: you go on a first date for the first time. Not ever. Just in a while, but it feels like it's been long enough that you almost forget what to do. Is that even possible? It has to be just like riding a bike, right? You try to reassure yourself, but then you remember that you actually forgot how to ride a bike between the ages of 12 and 14, and your best friend had to re-teach you.
Oh boy.
You spend the day swatting away the nerves, until 6pm rolls around. Time to get ready. You curl your hair in your bathroom while your roommates lay on your bed to keep you company. The three of you laugh and tell stories, while you sip on red wine to calm your nerves and try not to smudge your mascara. This is girlhood.
You don’t figure out what shoes to wear until you should already be out the door. Being late is your fatal flaw. You hope he doesn’t mind.
You text that you’ll be there in 5, and he says to take your time, he’s already there. Two other couples are also on first dates, he added. You relax a little.
You park on a side street around the corner from a bar you have to ring a doorbell to get into. You trip up the steps as you walk to ring it, and hope no one saw.
You stroll in and can’t find him right away. Until you spot him at the end of the bar, in the same moment that he spots you. He waves and you wave back. Suddenly, this walk feels longer than it should.
He stands to hug you and pulls out your chair, which impresses you. You realize that the bar is on the floor.
You make small talk, the kind that seems necessary when you’re meeting someone in person for the first time after matching on an app. He drinks an old fashioned, while you order a spicy margarita.
The conversation flows, but you feel yourself rambling and wonder if he thinks you’re talking too fast. You’re nervous to share what you do for work. When you finally spit it out, the nerves go away. Partially because he was interested. And partially because to your surprise, he already knew.
He orders another round of drinks and asks if you want to play pool. You confessed to him the day before that you don’t know how. You reminded him. He isn’t remotely phased, and seems excited to teach you.
You walk over to the table, and notice how he’s still taller than you in your heels. He shows you the ropes, and you’re terrible. Your nail breaks, flies across the table, and hits him. You couldn’t make this up if you tried.
Slowly but surely, you improve, all thanks to his coaching. You like the way he teaches you. You celebrate each shot you make, and are having more fun than you expected.
You wrap up your final game as the clock strikes 10:30, the curfew you set for yourself going into the night. You tell him it’s time for you to head home, and he asks if he can walk you to your car.
Of course, you say yes, and he walks with you along the dark street. Your heart starts to beat faster. The unknown of the first date goodbye always catches your nerves. You point out your car, and you come to a stop.
He kisses you. Or did you kiss him? Or did you both kiss each other? Should you even kiss on first dates?
You don’t really care who did what or if you should or shouldn’t, because it’s exactly what you wanted. You feel the spark and butterflies as you stand on the sidewalk of Dewey Street.
You hop in your car with a smile. Because maybe dating is just like riding a bike. And this time, you’ll remember.
