“Is he walking toward me?” I thought. “Oh my gosh, YES!”
My heart began to speed up just a little. I knew his first name and not much else. We were in 4 classes together- freshman at the same college.
Something about him intrigued me. He was calmer, more mature, than the rest of the over- zealous, goofy 18 year-olds in our general ed classes.
What did I know about guys? I knew I was tired of jerks. I knew I tried hard to put on a “crusty” exterior so that I wouldn’t be hurt by one again. I determined not to fall in love or marry until at least the age of 25, so I could go all over the world as a traveling journalist. India, Japan, the Middle East. I wanted to see them all.
“So, how’s your paper coming?” he asked. (We were in English Literature together.) I can’t tell you what else we said in those first moments together, but I do recall one thing- he seemed so nice and genuine. But he isn’t the floppy haired blond surfer type that I’ve set my sights on, so whatever. Besides, he is such a “brainer”, sitting on the front row, asking the professor all these questions. I mean, who does that?! He must be a nerd, but he sure doesn’t look like one.
A few days later, he caught up with me as I walked across the baseball field. I was wearing my Dr. Martens, my striped polyester shirt from the thrift store and a tennis skirt. This time he asked about another class- AND asked me on a date. My little 17 year-old heart was all a pitter-patter. This guy was so FOR REAL- kind, respectful, cute (as far as brown haired guys go :)), smart, and interested IN ME.
Our date seemed like it might never arrive. The anticipation was killing me. Would he be this gentlemanly or was this just a shill to get me to go out with him? Every time we had bumped into each other, the conversation flowed free and natural. He was a talker AND a listener. I was smitten.
Finally, the evening of our date- nervous doesn’t really touch the tip of my emotional state iceberg- I was more like petrified! Things started a bit rocky because he was late- poor guy-directionally challenged- let’s just say. Oh, Rebekah, get over it, if that’s the worst thing he is. Never the less, first impressions are important.
We drove to Hollywood Boulevard; the street that literally glitters beneath the glinting lights. Watched the movie “Beauty and the Beast” at the El Capitan theater, then walked until we meandered into an old timey diner called C.C. Brown’s. We ate delicious sundaes and he drank coffee. I was impressed. This guy is like, so mature. He drinks black coffee!
We talked and talked and talked. Finally, I asked, “So how old are you, anyways?”
“I’m 24” he said.
GULP! My eyes grew to saucer size. I was in disbelief. I hit his arm (gently, of course). “No way!” (Quickly calculating that was 7 years older than me- ok, so I am no math whiz!)