The First Date

This might really be a keeper. I’m so excited by the possibility that I’m paying for a professional blow out and even my beautician is excited. I leave the salon with an admonishment from Jenny-just don’t sleep with him! It’s been so long that I’m not even sure what that is anymore! I met this guy at a wine tasting event at a vineyard. Isn’t amazing how singles just tend to gravitate to each other? I wonder if Einstein ever studied that? We could have a whole new equation out of this, I’m, thinking as I carefully apply my makeup. What pants will do the most to camouflage my fat, hummm… I’m dressed and look fabulous, I must admit. And I’m off to fulfill my destiny, whatever the hell that is.
I call everyone I know on my drive to the restaurant to talk me down off my cliff. I haven’t had a real date in ages, one that involves him making reservations, and serves more than a scone and coffee. I can’t get a hold of anyone, so I revert to loud off-key singing in my car. As I accidently pass the restaurant and head towards the corner, my phone rings and I see it’s him. Oh God, don’t be canceling on me already! I haven’t even had the chance to offend you yet. I turn off the radio and answer the phone. I immediately answer with, “I’m here, I’m just turning the corner!” He tells me he came down the wrong canyon and will be there in ~10 minutes. I give him my cheerful and probably unneeded directions and tell him I will see him soon.
After giving my keys over to the valet, I stand in front of the restaurant looking like an unsuccessful hooker on Ventura Bvld. To look like I’m doing something, and am important, I take out my Blackberry, put in my Blueberry, and try not to blow raspberries. I’m not sure what kind of car I’m looking for, but hopefully it’s sleek, sexy, and expensive (like I would know?) Ok, there's the guy pushing the truck down the street, so hoping it’s not him. And finally a car pulls in and it’s him. The car is small, sleek, and what do I look like, blue book? It’s running and it carries my date. I say hello, look casual, like I always stand on Venture with this much technology in hand and am escorted into the restaurant.
We take forever to peruse the menus. The new contacts I have in that allow me to drive and see in the distance, and speak to my vanity about wearing glasses, do not, I realize, let me read the small print of the specials. To my horror, I can’t read what’s put in front of me! And my eyes are supper dry, so I keep winking, so finally I have to confess. I tell him I can’t see the menu, and the fact that I keep winking at him is because of these contacts and not that I’m flirting. I can’t tell if he is relieved or revolted. I excuse myself to go to the restroom. On my way there I find any breeze I can to cool off now that the hot flash is in full swing and get in to the bathroom. There I swap out my contacts for the glasses, mop off my forehead, and drop some cold water down my shirt. I’m feeling sexy now!
What can I say; the rest of the evening went great. I now could see the menu, I ordered, we tried to out wine snob each other, we even closed the restaurant down (hey, Its LA, closing down happened before 10PM-it’s the economy, stupid!) There was even a 2nd date-sort of. But have I heard from him since? No, but that’s another story for another time. And it’s not ANOTHER 1st DATE!