Love's Labor's Won?
Where does this story begin?
I suppose it begins Wednesday night. I am showing my Dad and his wife downtown. We're basically walking in concentric circles as downtown isn't really, you know, big, when all of a sudden we're out front of the hotel where The Chef works, this big structure that looks like a wedding cake with windows.
I send her a text just to joke around:
"I'm out front of [redacted] *swoon*"
I laugh to myself and wonder what she'll think of it, though she's mighty smart and would probably know why.
We continue to walk for the next fifteen minutes. We're probably about a half mile away when she responds:
"weird - i'm just about to leave work"
I text her back:
"no biggie - we're pretty far away by now. hope you have a good night!"
So we now begin to head in the direction of the restaurant where we're going to eat. And there she is, crossing the street opposite from us, on her way home. She's wearing a Colts sweatshirt, a scarf, and gym pants with running shoes.
Weird! So I introduce her to my Dad and his wife, and there we stand on the corner in the frigid night chatting for a few moments. As I knew he would he invited her along. She looked at me and I gave her the Universal Sign of Um I-Dunno, but she takes us up on it.
We sit for dinner and talk is flying everywhere. My Dad's wife dominates any conversation she's in and you would've thought I'd shot her full of amphetamines - she's just absolutely enamored with the idea of talking to a pastry chef. She loves to bake things. They talk shop for a while. She loves The Chef!
My Dad asks her questions about her past, where she's lived, and you can tell that she's charming him half to death. She's funny, relaxed, self-effacing but confident, witty, animated, all the things I adore about her. She has them - and me - in the palm of her hand. Dinner is lovely, a wonderful surprise.
You've got to hand it to her - she is pure class, even in that get-up. The real thing. I'm continuing to get wrapped around her finger so tight I can hardly breathe.
We walk her back to her parking garage and they let me take her up to her car by herself. I kiss her firmly on the lips the moment we round a corner. It's freezing. I'm positively beaming. And you know what? She is too!
At Thanksgiving my aunts got an earful about The Chef. Dad and wife both heap praise on her like Christmas presents. My aunts are shocked and they jab me about my Dad getting to meet her first, and his wife is convinced that she has it out for me. "You could tell how she'd look at him to watch him laugh." It's nice but it's uncomfortable too. I feel myself blushing.
The holiday passes. Now it's Sunday night, about six. I'm leaving the airport and call her to see her, as we'd planned. She's made me homemade beef stew and homemade bread. I drive as fast as the truck can go.
I enter her apartment and she has Christmas decorations up. I look at her and she looks at me. It's a violent feeling. It's exhilarating. Suddenly we're kissing very hard. It goes to the couch, then the bedroom where we stay for a very long time. Before we get up to eat I ask her, "Are you smitten yet?"
"Yes," she says.
I don't know why I asked that. My mouth can run when a girl is passionate with me. I was suprised by the ease of her answer.
We retire to the couch to watch The Simpsons and to eat. It is phenomenal, if there was ever any doubt. Amazing food, this one.
We somehow wind up in the bedroom again. For a long time. I finally can't take it anymore - I'm so full of... LOVE for this person and I feel like I'm going to explode. I decide to take a chance to say something very risky. I try to make it funny but to make sure I'm understood.
"[redacted]?"
"Yes, Dan?"
"I think... um... well, I think maybe you should ask me to be your boyfriend now."
She smiles and closes her eyes and laughs. I'm looking very intently at her. My guts are churning.
"Dan?" she says, "Would you like to be my boyfriend?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
I pretend to think. "No."
She gives me a deflated expression, a campy one.
"Yes," I say. And we kiss. She sends me home with stew eventually, even though I all but lose consciousness laying there with her after a while.
I go home.
And that's that.
Wow.
I suppose it begins Wednesday night. I am showing my Dad and his wife downtown. We're basically walking in concentric circles as downtown isn't really, you know, big, when all of a sudden we're out front of the hotel where The Chef works, this big structure that looks like a wedding cake with windows.
I send her a text just to joke around:
"I'm out front of [redacted] *swoon*"
I laugh to myself and wonder what she'll think of it, though she's mighty smart and would probably know why.
We continue to walk for the next fifteen minutes. We're probably about a half mile away when she responds:
"weird - i'm just about to leave work"
I text her back:
"no biggie - we're pretty far away by now. hope you have a good night!"
So we now begin to head in the direction of the restaurant where we're going to eat. And there she is, crossing the street opposite from us, on her way home. She's wearing a Colts sweatshirt, a scarf, and gym pants with running shoes.
Weird! So I introduce her to my Dad and his wife, and there we stand on the corner in the frigid night chatting for a few moments. As I knew he would he invited her along. She looked at me and I gave her the Universal Sign of Um I-Dunno, but she takes us up on it.
We sit for dinner and talk is flying everywhere. My Dad's wife dominates any conversation she's in and you would've thought I'd shot her full of amphetamines - she's just absolutely enamored with the idea of talking to a pastry chef. She loves to bake things. They talk shop for a while. She loves The Chef!
My Dad asks her questions about her past, where she's lived, and you can tell that she's charming him half to death. She's funny, relaxed, self-effacing but confident, witty, animated, all the things I adore about her. She has them - and me - in the palm of her hand. Dinner is lovely, a wonderful surprise.
You've got to hand it to her - she is pure class, even in that get-up. The real thing. I'm continuing to get wrapped around her finger so tight I can hardly breathe.
We walk her back to her parking garage and they let me take her up to her car by herself. I kiss her firmly on the lips the moment we round a corner. It's freezing. I'm positively beaming. And you know what? She is too!
At Thanksgiving my aunts got an earful about The Chef. Dad and wife both heap praise on her like Christmas presents. My aunts are shocked and they jab me about my Dad getting to meet her first, and his wife is convinced that she has it out for me. "You could tell how she'd look at him to watch him laugh." It's nice but it's uncomfortable too. I feel myself blushing.
The holiday passes. Now it's Sunday night, about six. I'm leaving the airport and call her to see her, as we'd planned. She's made me homemade beef stew and homemade bread. I drive as fast as the truck can go.
I enter her apartment and she has Christmas decorations up. I look at her and she looks at me. It's a violent feeling. It's exhilarating. Suddenly we're kissing very hard. It goes to the couch, then the bedroom where we stay for a very long time. Before we get up to eat I ask her, "Are you smitten yet?"
"Yes," she says.
I don't know why I asked that. My mouth can run when a girl is passionate with me. I was suprised by the ease of her answer.
We retire to the couch to watch The Simpsons and to eat. It is phenomenal, if there was ever any doubt. Amazing food, this one.
We somehow wind up in the bedroom again. For a long time. I finally can't take it anymore - I'm so full of... LOVE for this person and I feel like I'm going to explode. I decide to take a chance to say something very risky. I try to make it funny but to make sure I'm understood.
"[redacted]?"
"Yes, Dan?"
"I think... um... well, I think maybe you should ask me to be your boyfriend now."
She smiles and closes her eyes and laughs. I'm looking very intently at her. My guts are churning.
"Dan?" she says, "Would you like to be my boyfriend?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
I pretend to think. "No."
She gives me a deflated expression, a campy one.
"Yes," I say. And we kiss. She sends me home with stew eventually, even though I all but lose consciousness laying there with her after a while.
I go home.
And that's that.
Wow.