Re-Acquainting

So I intended to keep this going at least daily during the week, but I keep failing miserably. You know, you intend to write something, but then something happens, and you just can't get back to it?

I picked her up the following day, which was Sunday, for ice cream. She dressed up for the occasion looking much better than I did, and I was happy to see her again. I was happy to be going out with her finally after what amounts to four years of waiting for it. We hit Braum's and got our ice cream, but of course, ice cream was not the point of the date. We talked. Non-stop we talked the whole time about a little of everything. While at present, I don't know everything we discussed, I know I was just enjoying her company. To me, she hadn't changed at all. She was just as cute as when I'd seen her in high school, but this time, there was no competition, perceived or otherwise, for her affections. It was just me and her, and a nearly empty restaurant.

That evening was completely respectable. After Braum's, I took her home and walked her to her door. We bid each other a farewell with a shy wave, and that was that. The amusing side of this was that just prior to this re-meeting, she'd been dating sporadically to the point of going out with someone once, deciding she didn't like him, and that was it after one date. So, her parents saw me as the flavor of the moment and likely not to see me again.

Imagine their surprise when I called on her again, and we decided to go out on a Tuesday and make a whole day of it. We went to the zoo, of all places, and just hung out. It was there that I worked up the courage to clasp her hand and hold it. She took it willingly.

As I recall, I think I did something cheesy and ran over to a door for some reason, taking her hand as I said "Come on." Neither of us wanted to let go after that, so we held hands the majority of the remainder of our time checking out the myriad of animals at the zoo.

Following the zoo, we went to dinner at Olive Garden, which became a signature place for us, and she wanted me to order for her. Little did I know I was being tested. I looked over the menu, and thought about what sh might want. Now, I hadn't seen her in four years, and I still barely knew her, so it was as blind a shot as anyone could take to pick something off of a menu for her. But took the shot...

"Fettucini Alfredo," said I. I passed the test. Turns out that Fettucini Alfredo is one of her favorite dishes at Olive Garden, and I could only have gotten extra credit by ordering chicken on it. I got the Tour of Italy, which is the dish for those who can't decide what they want as it has Lasagna, Fettucini Alfredo, and Chicken Parmigiana. It can be argued (especially by over-zealous Italians) that Olive Garden is merely a non-Italian pasta restaurant, but to those people I say, "Shut up and let me eat my pasta."

From there, we went to the elementary school near her parents' house that we both attended at one time or another (and that Rock Girl spent two grades in). I learned that the Queen was in the very first class to go there for all 6 years of elementary school, as it was finished during her kindergarden year and she was transferred in during that year. I only went there one year, in second grade (now there's another really long story I might tell one day, but not today), but was at another school my other years.

We talked a lot on the playground. We didn't play on the toys, though. Just sat on them as we talked. There was a lot of tension of the positive variety between us. I wanted to take her in my arms at that point, but that chicken side of me held me off. "What would she do," I wondered. I couldn't bring myself to break that barrier as much as I internally wanted to. With every move through the playground, I felt the temptation to hold her in some way, but I just couldn't.

Romance is a very difficult thing for introverts. We gain our personal energy from spending time alone, so finding someone we are willing to give up our precious aloneness for is such a rare thing, that we just don't know what to do with it. I hadn't had a lot of experience in the field anyway, as you'll learn from the Silent Years section, but I had felt that touch before, and deep down, I knew that everything I had gone through was in preparation for this time -- for her.

My mind reeled with the possibly of being close to her like I tried to be close to the others, but untimately failed for one reason or another. But she was different. There was a genuineness there that didn't exist in the others -- like finding a piece of me that I'd long misplaced and been trying to fit with pieces that don't fit right.

At the time, although we were both no longer minors, her parents did have a curfew, of sorts, that they asked her to follow. They asked her out of respect for them since they had to work the following days, and to be honest, I found this curfew refreshing, since it gave me a firm time to have her home, and allowed me to be responsible about my life too. That time was 10:30.

So 10:00 rolled around, and we headed back to her house. We walked to my car and I stood close to her as I opened the door. We looked in each other's eyes for a long moment, but I finally opened the door fully and let her in. When we got to her house, we stood on the porch a long time, looking at each, trying to find a close to our evening of what can only be described in the end as sexual tension.

We looked at each other. I was trying to decide what to do. I know what I wanted to do, but I was frozen. I didn't want to do anything to upset her, or make her go away. This final moment is said to be critical, since it defines how the evening went. Any move could seal my doom or lead to paradise.

I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her. Se returned the gesture. We stood there like that for a long time, neither of us moving -- just holding each other as our second date came to a close.