So Danielle told me after my "Upon Dating" post a couple of days ago that I need to stop being vague and share my dating stories already. Part of my hesitance in talking much about dating is that 1. even if I don't use real names, I still would hate to offend/upset/embarrass anyone from my past and 2. I don't like to talk too much about current dating stuff because I like to see how things go before I share too much with anyone. But, I think it's time to share some old stories on occasion. A few readers may know who I'm talking about since I make no effort to be anonymous in this blog, but let's all keep this between us girls, ok?
I went on my very first date when I was 15. I had met this guy (we'll call him Scrub b/c I don't remember the code name Steph and I called him by in the notes we passed back and forth then, and because of another reason we'll get to later) through some of my friends. I remember sitting across from him at the lunch table and him looking at me spot on and saying, "You've got the most gorgeous blue eyes Melanie." Why thank you. Our flirting picked up when he got my instant messenger name from our mutual friend. I can remember getting so excited when I'd see him sign on and pop up to talk to me. I'm convinced that I really learned to type so fast when we were IMing back then...we talked about everything under the sun and finally one day he asked me out.
We decided to double with his best friend, the one I met him through. We'll call him Joe, because I had no problem with him. So Joe didn't have a g'friend so he invited a gal pal along. The plans were made. Movie. Coffee at quaint little place in the village (Hillsboro, that is...) 30 minutes before pick-up time I was called and told the plans were changed and I needed to wear a dress. Looking back, this was a bit rude, but I didn't care then.
Turns out Joe wanted to go see Love of His Life perform at a performing arts event. So the plans changed. We watch a very dull performance where Joe is smitten with his musician, gal pal is seemingly bored, and Scrub and I are awkwardly making small talk between songs and I keep feeling like he's staring at me. I remember not knowing if I should stare back.
Anyways, all this is fine and dandy, but then we went to eat. Nice little hamburger joint. We're talking you might spend $8, maybe more if you have coke to drink. As we're ordering, Scrub leans over... I think maybe, just maybe, he's got some sweet nothing to whisper in my ear. Or maybe a peck on the cheek to be sweet and say in some way there will be a second date. No. Instead: "Hey Mel, how much money'd you bring?" I awkwardly responded to say I had $10 (b/c my mom taught me to ALWAYS be prepared). "Oh good, you'll be fine."
Yes, I paid for my meal on a first date. Granted, I still always offer to do so these days. But I hadn't yet on this particular evening. And I think any gentleman should say no and pay. Especially if he asked me out.
Of course, I didn't hold a grudge. I liked the guy. I wanted to see him again. And I think we did and then somewhere we ended up being pretty decent friends for the next few years, having one night where we made out, another where we were awkward because we had, and then continued on being pals again. Oh, the ways of the single folk.
So the rest of the reason why I refer to him as Scrub? It's pretty old school, but do you remember TLC's song about them? "I don't want no scrub/ A scrub's the kind of guy that can't get no love from me/ Hangin' out the passenger side of his best friend's ride trying to holler at me." (We went on that double in his best friend's car.) There's also a little snippet about "Wanna get with me with no money oh nooooo." I don't need a guy with gobs of money, but having a few bucks to buy me a burger on our first date would be nice.
And yes Steph, there was lots of conversation about socks puppets. One had to be there.