My Last First Date

My last first date was 21 years ago to the day...and almost to the time as I sit here and type. 


September 1, 1991 I was having a make-up first date with a guy I had been talking to over the summer and who I had known the spring semester of my freshman year.  I say "make-up" date because I was trying to make up to him for the fact that I had canceled on him the night before.  It had been bid day, August 31, 1991, and I had just pledged Tri Delta. My new "sisters" wanted to go out to celebrate.  It sounds bad, I know, but this was not a guy I thought I would be interested in beyond a friend to hang out with, so I didn't think it would be too bad to cancel and reschedule for a lunch the next day.  Beside, in my mind, a "lunch" was more for a friendship anyway, so it would work out great.



He picked me up from my dorm room and we drove in his white Escort to Rita's, a TexMex restaurant in College Station.  I still remember that I wore a white short set and he had on a pair of shorts and a polo.  I remember his car was hot, his air conditioning was broken and in the middle of the TX summer, it's kind of a big deal.  I kidded him that I might not hang out with him again, because I didn't like to sweat on dates.  He laughed and joked that he wasn't going to hang out with me again anyway so we were good.  We laughed.  It was just easy.  His radio was broken too so he had the Steve Miller band playing in his cassette...over and over and over.  I told him he was lucky I liked Steve Miller; he said I was lucky he liked me.  We laughed again. 


We talked from when he picked me up until he dropped me off.  It was not strange, I was not nervous, and there were no awkward pauses in our conversation.  He was a guy I already knew.  We had spoken all summer, shared information about our families, how we grew up, things we liked.  I already knew so much about him.  We talked as if we had been friends forever.  He was cute, but I seriously just liked him.  He was funny, interesting, and had a great quirk about him.  We joked with one another, laughed at the same things, and never once gave the other an inch.  It was fun.

When he took me back to my room, my new sisters were outside, so he and I parted ways without really any plans to see one another again, at least officially.  Walking away, my sisters asked who that was and commented on how cute he was.  I kind of shrugged, laughed it off, and told them he was just a friend, good guy, but just a friend. 


What I should have said was, "Oh, him?  He was my last first date."