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20 september 2000

worst date number one, part two

So, Jim and I have an official date planned. And, being as I'm in a fairly small high school, absolutely everyone knows about it. I am simultaneously jazzed and anxious. I think I can manage this. He keeps telling me that he has a great car. I just hope he keeps providing me with top-notch chemistry supplies.

The evening arrives, and Jim picks me up in his Trans Am. It's loud. It's convertible. So not only will I be seen, but heard for miles away. He is cordial to my mom, says that he will be careful, and I hop into the car.

It's not too bad, actually, except for one thing. And those of you who are 5'10" and over will understand this --- Jim's car has bucket seats, and they live up to their name. I'm feeling ever so attractive, what with my chin resting on my knees and all. To make matters worse, I can't tell if our conversation is really going anywhere, because I can't hear him over the engine or the country station. I nod a lot. Cute girls seem to do that. Boys like them. Deductive reasoning gets me to the restaurant.

So we end up at a nice Chinese place in Asheville, the kind with tablecloths. The server comes over to take our drink order, and Jim decides to impress me with his sophisticated tastes. He orders fruit-flavored mineral water, and I get a diet pop. So far, so good. I haven't tripped, dribbled, or scratched. We make decent conversation until the drinks get there, mostly about football, his car, and him. I continue the nodding. He seems convinced that I am not only listening, but also somewhat interested.

The drinks come to the table. Jim (now remember, he's a chemistry lab assistant), pronounces that he needs to "mix the flavors" in his mineral water, and proceeds to shake it vigorously. Upon opening, the liquid explodes everywhere, onto the wall, the table, and Jim's shirt. Thankfully, it misses me. I have confirmation that Jim is definitely more football player than chemistry geek. My heart sinks. He will be no use in a real chemistry emergency. I note to myself to have a little discussion with Ms. McDuffie (our teacher).

Dinner proceeds without too much more problem. Jim avoids another major catastrophe. I now know a lot about the souped-up Trans Am culture in America.

We go to a movie. I don't remember which one. I just keep hoping he doesn't yawn and wrap his arm around me. Thankfully, he doesn't.

He takes me home. More outyelling the engine. Another stimulating conversation. I never want to go on another date again.

We pull into the driveway. I tell him I had a nice time. He had a nice time, too. I am still stuck in the bucket seat, white-knuckling the door handle, wondering if my mom will come running out with cookies and lemonade and save my ass. No chance. Jim leans in for the smooch. I panic. I smile and tell him something like, "oh, I'm not comfortable with that right yet." He's all, "yeah, okay. Sorry about the mineral water." I go into the house.

And that, kids, was my first date. So here's my question --- does anyone have a good first date? I guess I was so used to feeling comfortable with my friends, and with myself, that having to be at my dating best was too foreign for me to fathom. Of course, Jim and I were completely incompatible. But I suppose I would have at least been halfway comfortable if it weren't my very first date, too.

And yet, I've had other terrible dates in more recent years. Tomorrow, enjoy the tale of Me and the Guy I Met in a Dark Club While Not Wearing My Glasses Who Seemed Cool at the Time. Catch you later.