My First Date with Dave

The picture of me was after we had been dating 2 weeks. I had made Dave dinner for the first time. I was cracking up about something.

May 13, 2001 was our first date. We had just met online the day before, and had talked on the phone for hours that night. I can remember the first time I heard his voice. I felt like someone had literally squeezed my heart. All he said was hello, and I was already half gone. Our conversation felt so familiar, so easy, so fun. I felt like, Oh, it's you. I had seen one picture of him, and he had no idea what I looked like other than my description on the phone. I wore Calvin Klein blue jeans, sparkly black flip flops and a magenta blouse. I did my toenails this really funky color that changed depending on how you looked at it, and he actually noticed it. Major points there! Those of you who know me well know I am pretty vain about my feet.
I got in my red Pontiac Sunfire (my first car ever!) and went to his apartment. Which was stupid for three reasons: I had met him on the Internet; he was brand new to town and no one I knew knew

him; and his apartment was on University, which is NOT the best area of town. He had just moved from Kentucky that weekend to take a job at Harris. He opened the door, and I can remember that image like it was yesterday, and not seven years ago. I remember he looked sort of frightened, and I was worried that it was because of my appearance. He told me later that I looked like some sort of angel standing there. After a brief introduction to his oldest and closest friend Kyle, who was lounging on the couch cussing at the Nintendo (I was put off at first but now I know he's a great guy), we got in Dave's car (a white Mustang Cobra) and I directed him to Papa Gallo's beachside. We both ordered the baked ziti even though we wanted something else because it's something you can eat without humiliating yourself (no spaghetti or cheese slapping your face and leaving track marks of sauce on your chin). Afterwards we went to the beach, and sat down on the stairs and just looked out at the ocean and talked and talked. I pretended I was cold so he would put his arm around me (it was May in Florida). I kept wishing he would kiss me. At the end of the date he hugged me, and because I am so much shorter than him, I sort of laid my head on his chest. I remember he said: You're just kind of finding your spot there, aren't you? And that is exactly what I was doing. I have found my place in Dave's arms, and everyday, even the bad ones, I thank God for giving me him as a husband. I am being totally serious. I cannot imagine for one moment my life with anyone else.