It takes a lot for me to go on a first date. It’s just the whole awkwardness of the situation. Especially now, pretty much any girl I talk to knows exponentially more about me than I do about them; it can be kinda different. Add to this I am not in anyway normal, and now things are getting pretty weird. Y’all have seen my history in my stories; I have to be careful guys. When things go wrong for me, they go wrong BIG and FAST. In how many sequels to stories that go like “Relapse” or “Dahmer” do I survive? Do I die in part 3? I really have to be careful.
Well for about 3 weeks I’ve been talking to this girl that I’ve known for a while, and she is weird. We will call her Bird. I always have dated chics that were a little out there. If they wanted danger, danger was my middle name. I wasn’t real stupid; I always figure that I have a relatively high likely-hood of surviving situations I find myself in. My brain will break down an imaginary risk analysis Excel spreadsheet, then I can decide if I think something will kill me. Nothing has for 34 years, things have been going great. I don’t need help surviving.
Well this new chic thinks I do. She wants me to live even if that means I don’t always get to dream of riding Harley’s or jumping off the sides of canyons (yes, we spend a lot of time talking about things like this). She’s so safe. I’ve always thought safe was boring. It hasn’t been, that doesn’t mean things don’t get strange.
She doesn’t have tattoos. She’s never had a drug addiction. She sent me a picture of a pink toy motorcycle that belongs to her daughter and told me it was the only mc I would ever ride. What the heck? This sounds super boring, right? Wouldn’t we hate each other? No way I am going on a first date with a girl like that. We will both be crazy by the time it’s over.
Let me tell ya what happened last night
1st Date
For the last 3 weeks, Bird and I have stayed up ridiculously late texting almost every night. I have been operating on such little sleep; I’m surprised Im still able to write a coherent paragraph. My self-awareness has always been a little off, but no one has told me my writing hasn’t made sense. Really, even if I was too tired to breath; I wouldn’t be too tired to respond to her. Stuff like that means something. If a person is willing to give up sleep for another person, then they probably genuinely care about the other person.
I have thought about this. She has told me things that are so captivating, but I’m still so shy to trust someone’s intentions. It makes things hard. I want to have boundaries, but I don’t want my boundaries to turn into walls. As we have talked, I have wondered if there could be a different ending for me than the endings of so many of my other stories.
Bird has had some hard times too. Different from me but just as hard. She knows what heartbreak and questioning your own sanity because of someone else’s narcissism feels like. She’s been cautious too, and not just about the motorcycles and cliff jumping, but for her heart and also for mine, thats a little different to me. Generally within 3 weeks, Ive gone from a chic’a savior to sociopath back to savior several times.
We had met on a lunch break or two here or there, but decided that on Saturday we would go on our first date. I have been very secretive about this relationship. I refer to bird as “my little friend” when speaking to my family. Luckily, they are used to my quirkiness. You have to understand I am not the only one who has lived my story; every member of my tribe has lived every moment of it with me. They remind me that I need to protect my heart often (really often), but I also think I need to protect their hearts a little as well. Little did I know that before Saturday was over, a couple of my people would get to meet my new Bird in an interesting situation. This was not planned. Trust me it wasn’t, you will see.� We decided that we would go eat some sushi at a restaurant in Madison. We met up in the Byram Parking Lot and headed for Madison. She looked gorgeous (yes, she will read this). I know she may be a safe, boring person, but the thoughts I had when I saw my date were not safe or boring. They were exciting. My eyes immediately began getting lost in the green ocean of her eyes. For what was supposed to be just a meal with a person way too different than me, I was feeling like an astronaut being shot into orbit.
I love sushi and the whole experience of picking which rolls to eat, and speaking to people from other cultures. It’s all a lot of fun, especially when Im with the prettiest girl in the whole restaurant. Of course sometimes beauty can be intimidating. When you are with a beautiful woman you are supposed to be smooth. There’s a reason she’s with you, Casanova, now it’s time to show everyone just what that reason is. This wasn’t exactly how it went.
I had to rebuy all new clothes when I got out of lock up. Drug addiction takes everything from you, including a respectable wardrobe. So I have been slowly rebuilding for the last couple of years. I really got into a sale Dillards just had so, I have some new clothes. I decided my and Bird’s first date would be a great time to try out my new threads. I was decked from head to toe feeling and looking pretty confident.
I jumped out of my car when we pulled up and my second step with my left foot landed directly in a deep pothole that was filled with water from the recent rains. Yes, we even have deep caverns of asphalt in our parking lots down her. I was wearing a pair of low top shoes, and they were now filled with with parking lot water, not only was it in my shoe but also all over my new pair of pants. Things were going great. I wish I could say this was the last time our latest downpours affected this night, but it wasn’t, not even close.
We made it into the restaurant and were seated at a table by the window that had a bright red light directly over it. Now, we were both seeing each other through rose-colored glasses; things were about to get good. After I ordered an appetizer of pan-fried Gyoza along with a couple drinks, Bird said she had to go to the restroom. The restroom was on the direct opposite end of the room. She got up and walked away from me.
My favorite part of a woman’s body is her long slender back. For me, things that differentiate women and men are part of the great mystery of the divinity of the feminine form. A guys back is ugly, no lines, just a flat blank piece of skin that may have hair, like a lot of hair on it. A woman’s back is a maze of shoulder blades, divots, and magnetic lines. Bird wasn’t wearing anything immodest; it was winter. This didn’t stop me from noticing the beauty and grace she moved with as she walked away. (don’t judge, generally I don’t have time to notice, on account of the girl running away). She looked so good that I may have said, “Oh my gosh!!” Ok, I definitely said it.
I didn’t say it at an appropriate level either. Several people looked at my after I said it, including Bird. She knew exactly what I was talking about too. I didn’t care; she was with me. She’s gotten to know me. She knows that sometimes I will say things too loud, but it hasn’t been too much for her yet. I decided I shouldn’t test my luck with unknowns when they brought the gyoza out.
I am not good at using chop sticks. I have been eating sushi since before it was cool to eat sushi. It is absolutely one of my favorite meals. I also punched a lot of mail boxes in high school. My friends and I didn’t have the room or time to worry with carrying bats around. If we saw a mailbox that made us feel a certain kind of way and it was half-way dark, then that mailbox was getting dealt with. Yes, I used to be kid your parents hated. I’m sorry.
Sometimes when you hit a mailbox, it ends up being made from steel. When this happens, you break your hand. You continue to break your hand every time you punch another steel mailbox. I’ve punched more than a handful of steel mailboxes in my prime. My right hand, fingers, and knuckles do not like to bend in certain ways. Getting a good grip on the sticks is almost impossible. I had not thought of this. I had told Bird how much I loved sushi. She was gonna think I was more full of crap than we both already know that I am. I knew exactly what to do. I decided to fake it a little.
I jumped on the first piece of gyoza with my fork. I told her that she probably didn’t wanna use chop sticks around me. I was using a fork, so I wouldn’t embarrass her with my skills. She could use a fork too; I wouldn’t think any less of her. I was hoping she would just go with it. She didn’t.
Bird ripped her chop sticks open and started eating. She was an artist with them; it was like they were extensions of her long, delicate fingers. It was time for Bardin to put up or shut up. Well there was another option. I didn’t exactly put up, but I kept talkin too. It was obviously just noise. I busted out my own pair of sticks and went to work. It was atrocious. After 30 seconds, Bird told me to just stab the dumpling to kill it, because it was moving so much.
If you cant tell, so far, what was supposed to be so boring because we are so different was just as weird and fun as it sounds. When Bird would smile as I played with food and feigned humility, her whole face would light up. She would smile with her mouth, her nose, her eyes, and even her ears. I could tell that she was digging the situation even though I wasn’t exactly being Rico Suave. The rest of the meal went exactly the same. We had great conversations, big smiles, tummy laughers, and every once in a while I would feel her foot lightly rub against my shin. Neither of us were ready for the night to be over. I’m sure I could pull it together and really impress her with what was coming after the meal. Something exciting and dangerous…and muddy
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