Have you ever been out with someone at the beginning of a relationship and your mind fast forwards to some futuristic time imagining how you and the person facing you would be. You know the weird stuff that goes through your mind like, “I wonder how this person kisses”, “Can she keep up with me?”, “Can I keep up with her?”, “Will she try to change me?” Well the last one is a given.
My wingwomen have changed me (at least my attire) and I’m not in a romantic relationship with either of them. Don’t get me wrong the change is good; without change there is no progress.
Isn’t it odd how our minds think (rhetorical question)…back to Shelly.
After the second date, I ignored the 1-3 day waiting period protocol and emailed Shelly later that evening thanking her for a great morning conversation and asked again if she were up for a third date. She said, “Yes!” I suggested a few options and we decided to keep it local. I also wanted to keep the date in a public setting.
Since parking would be a nightmare, I suggested to chauffeur her to and from the festival. After all I am a southern gentleman and my mother wouldn’t approve if I didn’t at least make the offer.
Shelly agreed. We (actually she) decided on the time to start our date. If it were me, I’d like to be there when the event started, but I’m going with the flow. We settled on me being at her house at 2pm on Saturday.
Saturday morning arrived. I worked out, ran a few errands, then headed to Shelly’s house. I texted her letting her know I was on my way.
My iPhone map app told me I would arrive at her house at 1:58pm. I thought to myself, “Perfect timing Sam.” Based on our second date and the time she wanted to start our third date, Shelly leans to the not punctual and more of a “fly by the seat of the pants” kind of person. I’m the complete opposite as I’m punctual, almost overly punctual, and a somewhat detailed planner. But I’m learning to just go with the flow – baby steps.
Just as my Apple map indicated, I arrived at her house a few minutes before 2pm. Based on our second date at the coffee house, she described her house as a train station and not as tidy as she would like to have it.
I pulled into her drive way. Her house resembled the typical middle American family, blue collar house. The exterior needed some sprucing up but it’s the dead of winter so I guess I can understand its current state since Shelly is a single working mom with three teenagers and two dogs.
I rang the doorbell. Shelly met me at her door and invited me in while she continued to get ready. Shelly wore faded blue jeans, a print blouse, and boots. Cute outfit. She paired it with a hunter green leather jacket. “A very stylish attire,” I thought to myself.
We walked past the entrance. The downstairs interior definitely had signs of being lived in and had the presence of teenagers and pets. The decor was eclectic with mix and match furniture pieces from an Asian style buffet in the entrance to 80s and 90s furniture elsewhere.
Organized clutter is how I would describe the open kitchen, dining, and living room spaces. Unlike my home (and I blame my mother in a good way for this) the main entertaining area is always tidied and free of clutter.
Although cluttered, Shelly’s home was clean. At least I didn’t see any dust bunnies, but then again I didn’t do a white glove test either. After we exchanged some pleasantries and the quick tour of her downstairs living area, we headed to the festival.
In our planning I would drive us to our destination and park close to, or at the event. Originally I had thought about us taking the max train into downtown so as to not have to hassle with the parking and traffic.
Mind you, I live 5 minutes walking distance from one of the max stations but decided it wasn’t time yet for her to see where I lived. And no my little voice wasn’t screaming, “Danger Will Robbins!” Again I was just being a gentleman and being cautious of the messages I’m sending out. So I drove us.
It was a good hour to an hour and a half drive to the convention center from Shelly’s house. We filled our time talking about our work week and how her kids were doing and the general stuff that new couples talk about. I’m thinking, “Wow…this isn’t romantic talk at all! But how do you get off this subject?”
The little voice in my head whispered, “Just relax and live in the moment. Be natural.”
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