I’ve been really looking forward to seeing The Wedding Date, but I’m also a bit nervous.  This is for several reasons.  Firstly, I’m meeting him at a restaurant I’ve never heard of in a town I’ve never been to.  This, given my lack of navigational prowess and the renowned recklessness of New Jersey drivers, is a recipe for disaster.

Secondly, I’m wearing a sleeveless blouse.  And because I hadn’t planned on wearing a sleeveless blouse, I didn’t bother to shave my armpits earlier that morning.  I’m determined to keep my arms down by my sides but what if we end up making out?  What if he sees that I haven’t shaved?  What then?  I will die of embarrassment.

Last but not least, I want to be completely honest with him about next weekend’s wedding.  I know that he checked out my blog after our first date last month but I don’t know how much he’s read and the way I’ve come to see it, if you can’t be honest with someone right at the start of the relationship, when can you?

Unfortunately, the complications of one’s personal life—no matter how unnecessary and self-inflicted—can be a bit difficult to work into conversation.  Especially when you’re debating the merits of hummus vs. falafel whilst simultaneously noting, for the first time, that your date wears glasses.

(And that you rather like his bespectacled look…)

But then he asks me about my weekend and this gives me the opening I need.

I take a quick sip of water and announce, “Well, in the interest of full disclosure…”

He listens as I explain that I’ve agreed to go to Date #7’s brother’s wedding, then smiles and replies, “Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I too have a wedding to go to next month.  And I invited someone else, before…”

“So we’re even!” I exclaim.

“We’re even,” he agrees.

We spend the next three hours talking about everything-at-once and nothing-in-particular, cracking ourselves up until the owner comes to read The Wedding Date’s fortune in the silt of his coffee.  (He’d have read mine too, but dignified coffee connoisseur that I am, I actually ended up eating most of the grounds with my spoon.)

At that point, we’re the only two people left in the entire restaurant and we have been for some time.  We decide to call it a night.  He pays the bill (again), opens the door and walks me to my car where I turn to him under the guise of wanting to double check his proposed route back to Philadelphia but really, I just want him to kiss me.

And charming man that he is, he seems perfectly willing to oblige.

Related articles

• The Return of the Wedding Date (katrichterwrites.wordpress.com)
• The Wedding Date That Wasn’t Mine (katrichterwrites.wordpress.com)
• Lady’s Choice: The Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth (katrichterwrites.wordpress.com)