It was a Saturday night. I pulled up outside her house ready
for our first date. “I’ll be down in five” she said. I didn’t care because the
sun was out, the windows were down and the Temper Trap had just begun singing
their tale Sweet Disposition.
Sweet disposition
Never too soon
Oh, reckless
abandon
Like no one's
watching you
A moment of love
I thought to myself: how weird would it be if this girl,
this stranger, turns out to be the woman I spend the rest of my life with?
Could she be into comic
books (+1), travelling (+3) and find my sense of toilet humour refreshingly
funny (+3)?
She’ll be a medical
professional (+4), have an eye for art (+2) and a heart for live music (+4).
Her hair will be brown (+1) and she’ll be tall, but not so tall that she’ll be
taller than me when wearing heels (+3). Her apartment will have contemporary styling (+1) and her dog will be a loyal golden retriever by the name of Wilfred (+3).
We’ll live in an
apartment on the beach and swim in the mornings and I’ll cook breakfast and squeeze fresh orange juice. Come winter we’ll spend the cold nights bathed
in the glow of a warm fire, comforted by the simplicity of one another's company and only pausing for the occasional sip of wine.
Eventually I’ll learn
how to use my hands. How to turn cold slabs of timber into a crib. Perhaps two.
I’m interrupted by a message. “Just a couple more minutes” it
reads. I check my hair and continue singing.
A dream
A laugh
A kiss
A cry
Our rights
Our wrongs
Just a month ago I was on a whole other first date. What if things
don’t go right this time?
If my jokes are met by
deafening silence? (-4) If she orders a salad and then eyes my steak (-2). If
she won’t shut up about her ex (-5). Thinks twilight is critically acclaimed
(-3). Slaps me once for saying ‘That’s what she said’ (-2). Is as deep as a
bowling pin (-4). Has slept with half the waiters in the restaurant (-5). Girls
too (+2).
A single rogue hair draws my attention.
Is my shirt untucked? What
if she doesn’t like my shirt? (-1) Where we’re going (-1). The size of my feet
(-2). My disregard of all things Gaga (-3). Thinks I’m a nerd (-3). My thoughts
on euthanasia (-3). The way I kiss (-4).
What if she doesn’t
want kids (-5)?
Goodbye Wilfred. Farewell crib.
Stay there
'Cause I'll be
coming over
While our blood's
still young
With the hair in place, I nervously fumble into the cool position. It may have been
inspired by the Fonz. I can’t pull it off.
A young boy, no more than 5, spurs past on his green and
black BMX. For no apparent reason he slams the brakes and wobbles to a halt. He scurries back with wide eyes until he
stops at an ant colony. They’re okay and he smiles.
Suddenly it becomes clear it doesn't matter how many -45 dates I go
on because it only takes one—one +25 date—to deem any other unnecessary. Best
of all, every fibre of the universe is cheering me on.
The door clicks. Our eyes lock.
