Did I ever tell you the story of the most awkward thing that has ever happened to me on a date? I probably did. I think I told everyone I came in contact with over the course of the month that followed it.
And, no, it is not the time I told a guy he couldn’t see me because I was wearing sunglasses.
I met a boy, that’s where the story starts. I met him at one of the venues I like to go dancing at in Seattle. I was sitting off to the side of the dance floor doing my own thing, which is mostly enjoying my drink and avoiding making accidental eye contact. He slipped into my line of vision, side stepping a little to be sure I saw him before approaching me. In truth, I was very aware of his presence from the moment he walked into the venue, he’s cute and I had danced with him before and found dancing with him enjoyable. He was also wearing bright red pants, more on that later. Still, I appreciated that he made an effort to get into my line of sight before addressing me.
“Would you like to dance?”
I had danced with him before and he was someone I enjoyed dancing with. He never pushed me through moves that I did not know, and he was always good at asking me if something was okay. Blues dancing calls for a close embrace which is not something I am always comfortable with, especially when I am not asked first. He always asked and always asked if I wanted to lead.
“I would love to dance.” I set aside my whiskey sour and let him lead me onto the dance floor. One of the things I enjoy about partner dancing is that the lead will often take your hand and lead you to an open space on the dance floor. It feels like being in a period movie. It feels elegant.
And we danced, it is often as simple as that. You get asked to dance and you dance.
When the dance is over, I usually return to my seat and wait for my turn to dance again. Sometimes the wait is long but sometimes someone will grab your attention before leaving the dance floor and you get another turn to dance. This time I made it back to my seat and sat long enough to start shuffling the ice around in my drink again.
“Is it okay with you if we talk for a bit?” He sat down on the couch across from me.
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
That is how I met Mark. Meeting him is important to the story. You simply cannot go out on a date with a person who you have not met in some capacity. Sure, you can argue that there is online dating and blind dates in which you do not physically meet a person until your date but, you tend to have some form of introduction. I have never met anyone who has just shown up someplace and been on a date. That is not how dating works. A few weeks passed and I got in contact with him, asking if he would like to hang out some time, it turns out that in millennial dating language this is akin to asking someone out, and he said that he would like that and asked if I would take him to a speakeasy in Seattle. Which brought us to mid-January, sitting at a bar talking about the three most important things someone should know about us and other first date, “getting to know you” type topics.
Everything was going well. I enjoyed spending time with him. He kept talking about how much he liked to be alone but reassuring me that he was having a nice time hanging out with me. I told him all about my desire to be a time traveler. He told me about his previous life doing competitive ballroom dance.
Then he got up to go to the bathroom. As one does.
“Excuse me!” You know how people whisper but they are not really whispering? They make their voice breathy but the words they are saying are in no way a secret? “Excuse me! MISS?” The woman behind me whispered.
I turned on the bar stool toward the small table directly behind me where two women and a man sat in high backed chairs, all staring at me. “Um… yes?”
The woman closest to me leaned forward, still whispering, as if we were not the only four people in the bar on a Tuesday night. “Are his pants corduroy?”
Corduroy. I honestly had not checked. I do not spend a lot of time looking at people’s pants. I knew he was wearing pants. “Um… I don’t know. They’re red.”
“I need you to find out for me.” Need seems like a strong word considering the situation but whatever. “When he comes back, just put your hand on his leg and then report back.” The man sitting across from her covered his face with his hands, actually whispering something about how this looked like a first date and to please stop.
“I’m not going to do that, but I’ll find out for you.”
At that point I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I turn back to the bar and sit by myself while I wait for my companion to come back? Do I continue talking to this woman? Are we friends now? My basic human interaction skills are not great. Fortunately, that was about the time that Mark came back, and I didn’t have to question social protocol anymore.
“So, I’ve been wanting to ask you…”
“Oh wait.” I interrupted. “Before you start, this crazy lady,” I jerked my thumb behind me at the woman in the highbacked chair, “wants to know if your pants are corduroy.”
Mark turned to the small group behind us. “They are.”
“I knew it.”
“So,” he turned back to me, “I’d been wanting to ask you…”
Comments