November 18, 2007…
The plan had been to meet for lunch on Sunday afternoon, though we both knew neither one of us would be the least bit hungry. Two introverts meeting face to face for the first time generally results in a lot of nerves. Appetites would be nonexistent. Meeting was the important part. Food was an afterthought. It had been three weeks of countless, long-winded emails and night after night of four-hour phone conversations that had brought us to this point. Would we have the same chemistry in person as we did over the phone? We were about to find out.
The day had thus far been cold and dreary with bouts of rain and threats of snow. I sat in my car with the engine still running, anxiously scanning the parking lot. I knew he was going to be a little late but every car that drove by made me jump. I fiddled with the radio, repeatedly checked the time, and kept watch for a dark blue Honda Civic. My stomach jolted—there he was. I froze as I watched him drive by. Moments later my cell phone started to ring. This was it—the moment of truth.
Our approach was cautious as we crossed the parking lot to meet. After a wide-eyed and awkward, “Hi, how are you?” we hugged to break the ice. That had been his idea, starting off with something as simple as a hug to break through that initial tension. It seemed to work. We agreed that food was the furthest thing from our minds and decided to skip the lunch plans and instead headed for the coffee shop a few doors down.
We took up residence at a small table in the corner, unsure of where to start the conversation. Small-talk had come easily during our lengthy phone conversations, now it seemed to elude us. It only took a few minutes to break through the silence, however, giving way to what would be a long afternoon together, whiling away the hours talking about everything and nothing at all. The anxiety we’d both had at the beginning soon dissipated, allowing us both to relax and enjoy each other’s company.
Conversation touched on work, family, music, movies, the everyday mundane, and random tidbits about ourselves. We shared deeply personal stories from our pasts, the types of stories people don’t typically share with someone they just met. Somehow, in the short time we’d been conversing, we’d established a level of trust with one another that can often take years to build.
Other patrons of the coffee shop came and went as the afternoon wore on. Their muted conversations blended with the light rock music playing over the PA system. The chatter of the staff carried over the din of espresso machines and coffee grinders, creating a racket more akin to a construction site than a café. Outside people hurried past the windows, anxious to get out of the cold and rain. The unpredictable November weather seemed to change with every tick of the clock.
I found myself having difficulty maintaining eye contact through our conversation. Despite the fact that I felt surprisingly comfortable with him, I still felt awkward and shy looking him in the eye. I kept watch on the weather outside more than the guy across table from me. The same one I’d been holding hands with for most of the afternoon. I felt slightly guilty for my inability to maintain eye contact for more than a minute or so at a time. However, knowing I wasn’t the only one feeling awkward and shy, kept me from kicking myself too much.
My stomach had been tying itself in knots all day, while my heart thundered in my chest. There was no denying the attraction. It was evident on both sides of the table. When he invited me to sit next to him in the corner of the booth, my heart leapt into my throat. Now instead of face to face, we were side by side. He took my hand, intertwining our fingers. We discussed future meetings and the likelihood of spending entire weekends together. He put his arm around me and I settled in close with my head on his shoulder. Conversation fell into a comfortable silence as we sat watching the sky grow darker and darker.
Checking the time, we realized we had spent nearly eight solid hours sitting at that corner table in the coffee shop. Neither one of us felt it had been that long, nor did we want to leave. Finally relenting, we moved toward the exit. The staff of the coffee shop wished us well, as if they knew this was the start of something good. He walked me to my car, holding me close, and wrapped me in a tight hug as we said goodbye. It was difficult to let him go and watch him walk away, but I knew this was only the beginning. The chemistry between us was far greater than either of us would ever have expected. This was definitely the start of something good.
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I’ve posted this in a couple of different places before, but I wanted to put it here, too. My short-lived bout with online college classes included a college writing class and this was written for a descriptive essay assignment wherein we had to write an essay about an emotional experience. I was pretty happy with the way it turned out. (To be honest, I have no idea what kind of grade I got on it.) It’s not perfect, but the schmoop in me gets a giddy pit in my stomach every time I go back an read it…remembering my first date with Bob and how part of me just knew I’d found forever sitting in that Caribou that day.
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