Feels So Right

A month ago, I was nervously sitting in the midst of an awkward situation, the all-encompassing power of which left me not knowing how to act anymore. I was on a first date.

"Don't be familiar..."

Not only was it a first date, it felt like the first first date I'd ever gone on ... making me forget how things are supposed to go on a date, even after years and years of practice. In comparison, those other first dates now remind me of all the times that I diligently practiced for my first piano recital as a kid, but that never prepared me for the actual moment of sitting down to a piano on a stage.*

Sure, there was a huge build up to this date. Previously, casual acquaintances were assuming he was my boyfriend or husband, while closer friends were demanding that something be done about that "palpable" thing between us during an all-day/all-night Yacht Rock concert ... a "thing" that neither of us had even addressed yet, mind you, because we were so incredibly shy around each other.

Aside from that first all day adventure in awkward town, we had also spent the whole day before this date together with other friends present, sometimes uncomfortably sandwiched into a visual nerd feast called Dragon*Con. Still, we never managed to do more than shyly sit next to each other while sipping out of a rum-filled bucket and occasionally make eye contact so potent with chemistry, I had to break my gaze away quickly for fear of lustfully licking his face.**

So here we were spending the day together ... alone ... terrified, yet riveted. What could happen, we probably sort of knew, but we probably were both afraid of instant combustion or something.

I knew we were going to need some "liquid courage" after I'd posted this image to my Facebook page a few weeks earlier, and he "liked" it:

True story.

We started our date excursion by hopping into Mothra and promptly getting lost on the way to hunting down a liquor store. His jealous GPS lady voice actually tried to run us into a wall, and then when that didn't work, she tried to send us in the complete opposite direction of the store. Somehow we found it, despite her attempts at killing us, and about an hour into our date we were returning to our starting point, because we'd forgotten some much needed beach chairs in the trunk of his car.

But THEN we were off at last! First stop, a Caribbean Jerk Festival (they're actually very nice people, those Caribbeans). Seemed like a quirky way to get some chow, and it really was. We spotted pineapple drinks and paid way too much to drink non-alcoholic smoothies out of them, but ... PINEAPPLES! Suddenly, we weren't just on a date ... we were like the Howells on GILLIGAN'S ISLAND! They also added to our awkwardness, as we randomly dropped pieces of decorative fruit and got stickier and stickier by the minute holding them. But PINEAPPLES!

Did the Howells drink out of pineapples, or just bamboo cups?

When it came time to choose what to eat, we had a veritable cornucopia to choose from ... if you had like 20 cornucopias all serving basically the same foods in just slightly different ways. I, of course, chose the thing that took the longest to make and was the most awkward to eat: a whole, huge fish ... head on, eyes still in it ... which I had to figure out how to eat with a plastic fork that would have bent if pushed through Jell-O.

I managed to get some on my fork at least a couple of times, and awkwardly offered some to my date. To my secret delight, he took the bite right off my fork, like we were already being all coupley ... even through the gathering swarm of gnats! It was adorable ... two nervously awkward, middle-aged white folks having a first date at an all-black festival, eating unfamiliar foods while surrounded by swarms of gnats and getting blasted with digital-laser enhanced reggae music playing across an open football field.

And that was just the beginning!

By the time we made it to the Drive Invasion (bands all day, movies and camping out all night at the drive-in), we were still nervous, but I think we'd both just accepted this as the new norm. We spent the rest of the day walking and chatting and trying to get pictures of people riding mini and/or double versions of things, like a baby Grave Digger or a welded one-on-top-of-the-other double bicycle. We also witnessed what was possibly the most amazing karaoke rendition of "Purple Rain" I have ever witnessed, and I saw Prince perform that live during the Purple Rain tour! This version was far more beardy than Prince's, however.

If you squint, you can see tiny, background us there in someone else's pic.

As it got dark, we decided to break out the liquid courage (vodka, straight; chased with whatever fruity cider I had been drinking) and beach chairs, along with grabbing some concession stand grub: corndogs (no sexual references were made, but plenty were thought ... by me) and more nachos than anyone should ever try to consume. We discussed movie points here and there, but we really spent the evening telling tales from our lives up to that point, and a lot of laughing.

When I got up to go to the bathroom sometime after Midnight, I came back to find him needing to go, which he did, and our beach chairs suspiciously several inches closer to each other. I laughed, because I'd been turning and moving mine closer by degrees all evening, but you would have needed time-lapse photography to see it move. This was a bold move on his part. Or maybe he didn't realize how obvious he'd been about closing the gap. I moved mine even closer then.

We still sat watching the movies and talking, and someone was periodically lighting off fireworks behind us, to which I would "WOOO!" really loud in appreciation, regardless of the fact that no one else was making a sound. That might've been the vodka.

It wasn't until the 4th movie ... a full 15 hours into our date ... that something changed. He put his arm on the back of my chair! Just rested it there, like it was casual, even though I'm sure it wasn't. And I sat there hoping and hoping he'd put it around me ... which he finally did, and to which I was so stunned that my wishing had worked, I forgot that I should be doing something. A voice shouted in my head, "LEAN INTO HIM, FREAK!" Actually, it didn't call me a freak, but it was a thought that came in loud and clear, so I leaned in.

I'm not sure how long we sat there cuddled up like that, probably not that long, but it seemed like forever, when he or I or both at the same moment made the cuddle an actual hug, and the actual hug became an actual first kiss. Talk about fireworks and woo! On the record of all of my first kisses, and as awkward as our lead up was, that kiss was perfection and the top of the charts. I was floored by how it felt like I was kissing myself, every move matched ... not a trace of awkwardness to be found between us there.

Also, as soon as that kiss happened, I knew the clothes would be coming off ... it was just that good. And they did. We spent the rest of the evening until sun up in the back of my little Mothra, doing things that I cannot write about here (**in my enthusiasm, I did indeed lick his face, just like I knew I would; he giggled), while listening to a cd of Wire's Pink Flag + Extras. There were moments, while staring into each others eyes, where I could feel every emotion possible, and the positive energy of something so fantastic it took my breath away. The world around us dissolved.

We felt incredible ... like teenagers ... until we tried to get our clothes back on and get out of the car several hours later. Then we felt like middle-aged people who don't practice yoga and should never try to play marathon Twister in a tiny space. But we had giant grins on our faces even through the stiffness and pain!

When asked later how the date went by one of the friends who'd been trying to push us to go for all that "palpable" energy, I replied:

"There were fireworks! 

Also, we did it. :)" 

As adolescent as my reply was, I was in deep. The thing had taken over, and I haven't let it stop. This has been the most fantastic, easy, nerdy, delightful, sexy ride I have ever been on, and I don't see it stopping any time soon ... nor do I want it do anything but keep going and going. I get excited at just the thought of where such potent, positive energy will take me. Correction: where it will take us!

Earlier today, I received a text message that made me make a tiny, audible squeal at work when I read it:

"One month ago at this time I 

was drinking from a pineapple 

with a girl I had a sizable crush 

on. I was excited and nervous."

As fun as that first date was, every moment since gets better than the last. It's like I placed an order (I did!) and got exactly what I wanted. And I would not trade a single, awkward lead-up moment (and there are many more than I've written here), as each makes our story all the more endearing and adorkable.

I have made it my habit over the years to not name names in this blog ... not even first names whenever I can help it. I'm going to end that here and tell you his name is Scott. I may still refer to him as "my boyfriend" in the future -- or possibly a pet name, if one sticks -- but since this is a different experience from all the rest, he deserves a credit! And maybe a medal or a trophy or a ribbon. Something for making it so easy for me to be a happy, happy girl.


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*And what did I play at that first piano recital? A number one hit on the radio in 1981 was chosen by my teacher, who only cared that I'd heard it before, not whether or not I liked it (I didn't). I remember nervously sitting down at that stage piano, feeling like I was about to throw up, knowing this was more for the adults than for me, so I better make it good ... taking a deep breath, and then the song just flowing from my fingers almost without effort. When it was all over, a parent said to me backstage, "I like your version better than the original, and I love that song! You played that like you truly felt it!"

My recital version of this song was much less beardy than the original, however.

I don't know that I really felt it back then, but after I received that sweet text memory earlier today, this blog started writing itself inside my head, along with a loop of these lyrics stuck on repeat in there, too...

"Baby, you left me defenseless. 

I've only got one plea. 

Lock me away inside of your love. 

I'm guilty of love in the first degree."

And in making sure I had the lyrics correct just now, I discovered the title to this blog that had been eluding me the whole time I've been writing ... it's the title to the album that "Love in the First Degree" was on, and it made me grin from ear to ear. Thanks again for the giggle, you kooky, crazy universe, you!

Love in the First Degree: Feels So Right