My Best Day Ever
Someone on Reddit posted a thread asking people what their best day is.
I've been a bit melancholy and pessimistic lately, so I thought I would tell the story of MY best day. But I've been on Reddit entirely too much lately, so I'm telling it to you.
The backstory first.
It was early March 2011. I'd been in my new place for 6 months, and even though I was back in my hometown, I still didn't really know anybody. My birthday had just happened on the first of the month, but that was also the day I'd been laid off from my job. I'd been seeing a guy, but he'd recently let me down easy. However, things were looking up: I'd spent hours and hours setting up a profile on a free dating site (OkCupid, if anyone cares to know) and after creeping around it for a few days, I'd come across a really interesting profile. He wasn't the most eloquent or well-written person I'd encountered, and I couldn't really tell from his pictures whether he was attractive or kind of a flaky douche. (I distinctly remember one photo that had been taken in front of a cheap red wall scarf, depicting a black tribal design.) However, he was sporting a very excellent newsboy hat, he was looking for women but had his preferences listed as "bisexual", and he had pretty good taste in TV shows.
So, I did something I'd never done before: I sent him a message. I told him I liked his hat and his sexual preferences. Literally, two sentences.
Wouldn't you know it, not a few hours later did I get a very nice message back - not at all flaky or douchey. I had never successfully hit on anyone before, and was at a complete loss, but I continued the conversation and we got a nice dialogue going. He was charming, and very careful to answer all my questions before asking his own. He seemed interested in what I had to say, and never once came across as creepy or unpleasant in anyway. Quite the opposite, in fact.
And then, the unexpected happened: he sent me his number. In a very cute way, too - he scattered the digits of his phone number, in order of course, throughout his last message and then told me to call him sometime. To be honest, I had to re-read the thing a few times before it occurred to me what had happened, and I was overcome with beflusterment.
But then I did something else I'd never done before: I picked up my balls, and gave him a ring.
I was so nervous that I've actually blocked the conversation out of my memory completely, I'm sure that I was half-coherent at best and full of nervous giggles. But whatever happened, we set a date for the next day.
Just in case I've lost you and you're skimmming, this is where the really great day happens.
So there I am, ready to go on my first blind date. I'm wearing my brand new Jessica Simpson 5" pumps, and a dress i think (I must ask him about this detail - he'll remember), walking three blocks in the downtown wind because I've parked too far from the coffee shop, silently panicking but attempting to maintain a confident and calm outward appearance. I get a few double-takes from strangers on the sidewalk, which makes me feel a bit better.
There's the coffee shop. Nobody's sitting outside, dammit, I was hoping he would so that he'd be easier to find.
So I take a deep breath and gather up all that fake confidence, and I walk in the front door.
There's a very brief moment when I'm not sure if it's him, and thinking back on it now, I know he had that moment too. But it was only a flash, a half-second at most, and then I know.
There he is, sitting in an armchair facing the door. He has longer hair than in his picture, and it's bleach-blonde... and he's much shorter than I'd thought he would be. But he's wearing a very dashing newsboy cap and a matching leather jacket, and as we make eye contact, a victorious smile cracks on his lips and spreads across his face. His eyes are very, very blue. I warm to him immediately, and as he hugs me in greeting, any lingering doubts and fears I'd been hanging onto were gone before I even noticed them slipping away.
Never before have I had such friendly, frank, honest, open conversation with a new friend. It felt as though I'd known him for years. Sitting next to him, I'd never felt so statuesque and beautiful in all my life. He looked me right in the eyes, right in the soul, as he unwaveringly answered every question, addressed every word. I gave being bluntly honest a try; he accepted it without even flinching, as if he hadn't even realized that he was supposed to react poorly. I was taken, and it never occurred to me to pull back or be wary of him. I trusted him from the very first conversation, and at every moment he was a complete gentleman.
He paid for my coffee. He helped me with my coat, both on and off. We went for a walk, he took the outside. We went for a drive in his beat-to-shit camper van (which had an overflowing ashtray and a mattress in the back; I quipped that he was quite the boy scout, coming prepared for everything like this, and he was quick to laugh and then put my mind at ease) and he opened my door, lit my cigarette, and dropped me off at my car so that I wouldn't have to walk back to it in the cold.
It was the best date I'd ever had. It was like something out of a cheap 90's Meg Ryan movie. I'd never thought that such a fantastic date with such a handsome guy could happen to an average-looking, nerdy, super quirky-awkward girl like myself.
About three weeks after that, we started seeing each other every single day.
That was a year and a half ago now. I've continued seeing him every single day. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I can't imagine going back to my life before him. I'm grateful for every morning that I'm lucky enough to wake up next to him, and I feel remorseful for every girl who's never gotten a chance to feel as special and beautiful as R makes me feel.
...
You know what? I do feel better. Writing this all out in such detail brought a smile to my face. I think I'mma go hug that man right now.
I've been a bit melancholy and pessimistic lately, so I thought I would tell the story of MY best day. But I've been on Reddit entirely too much lately, so I'm telling it to you.
The backstory first.
It was early March 2011. I'd been in my new place for 6 months, and even though I was back in my hometown, I still didn't really know anybody. My birthday had just happened on the first of the month, but that was also the day I'd been laid off from my job. I'd been seeing a guy, but he'd recently let me down easy. However, things were looking up: I'd spent hours and hours setting up a profile on a free dating site (OkCupid, if anyone cares to know) and after creeping around it for a few days, I'd come across a really interesting profile. He wasn't the most eloquent or well-written person I'd encountered, and I couldn't really tell from his pictures whether he was attractive or kind of a flaky douche. (I distinctly remember one photo that had been taken in front of a cheap red wall scarf, depicting a black tribal design.) However, he was sporting a very excellent newsboy hat, he was looking for women but had his preferences listed as "bisexual", and he had pretty good taste in TV shows.
So, I did something I'd never done before: I sent him a message. I told him I liked his hat and his sexual preferences. Literally, two sentences.
Wouldn't you know it, not a few hours later did I get a very nice message back - not at all flaky or douchey. I had never successfully hit on anyone before, and was at a complete loss, but I continued the conversation and we got a nice dialogue going. He was charming, and very careful to answer all my questions before asking his own. He seemed interested in what I had to say, and never once came across as creepy or unpleasant in anyway. Quite the opposite, in fact.
And then, the unexpected happened: he sent me his number. In a very cute way, too - he scattered the digits of his phone number, in order of course, throughout his last message and then told me to call him sometime. To be honest, I had to re-read the thing a few times before it occurred to me what had happened, and I was overcome with beflusterment.
But then I did something else I'd never done before: I picked up my balls, and gave him a ring.
I was so nervous that I've actually blocked the conversation out of my memory completely, I'm sure that I was half-coherent at best and full of nervous giggles. But whatever happened, we set a date for the next day.
Just in case I've lost you and you're skimmming, this is where the really great day happens.
So there I am, ready to go on my first blind date. I'm wearing my brand new Jessica Simpson 5" pumps, and a dress i think (I must ask him about this detail - he'll remember), walking three blocks in the downtown wind because I've parked too far from the coffee shop, silently panicking but attempting to maintain a confident and calm outward appearance. I get a few double-takes from strangers on the sidewalk, which makes me feel a bit better.
There's the coffee shop. Nobody's sitting outside, dammit, I was hoping he would so that he'd be easier to find.
So I take a deep breath and gather up all that fake confidence, and I walk in the front door.
There's a very brief moment when I'm not sure if it's him, and thinking back on it now, I know he had that moment too. But it was only a flash, a half-second at most, and then I know.
There he is, sitting in an armchair facing the door. He has longer hair than in his picture, and it's bleach-blonde... and he's much shorter than I'd thought he would be. But he's wearing a very dashing newsboy cap and a matching leather jacket, and as we make eye contact, a victorious smile cracks on his lips and spreads across his face. His eyes are very, very blue. I warm to him immediately, and as he hugs me in greeting, any lingering doubts and fears I'd been hanging onto were gone before I even noticed them slipping away.
Never before have I had such friendly, frank, honest, open conversation with a new friend. It felt as though I'd known him for years. Sitting next to him, I'd never felt so statuesque and beautiful in all my life. He looked me right in the eyes, right in the soul, as he unwaveringly answered every question, addressed every word. I gave being bluntly honest a try; he accepted it without even flinching, as if he hadn't even realized that he was supposed to react poorly. I was taken, and it never occurred to me to pull back or be wary of him. I trusted him from the very first conversation, and at every moment he was a complete gentleman.
He paid for my coffee. He helped me with my coat, both on and off. We went for a walk, he took the outside. We went for a drive in his beat-to-shit camper van (which had an overflowing ashtray and a mattress in the back; I quipped that he was quite the boy scout, coming prepared for everything like this, and he was quick to laugh and then put my mind at ease) and he opened my door, lit my cigarette, and dropped me off at my car so that I wouldn't have to walk back to it in the cold.
It was the best date I'd ever had. It was like something out of a cheap 90's Meg Ryan movie. I'd never thought that such a fantastic date with such a handsome guy could happen to an average-looking, nerdy, super quirky-awkward girl like myself.
About three weeks after that, we started seeing each other every single day.
That was a year and a half ago now. I've continued seeing him every single day. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I can't imagine going back to my life before him. I'm grateful for every morning that I'm lucky enough to wake up next to him, and I feel remorseful for every girl who's never gotten a chance to feel as special and beautiful as R makes me feel.
...
You know what? I do feel better. Writing this all out in such detail brought a smile to my face. I think I'mma go hug that man right now.