My last post about “good” dates was so popular, I’ve dug deep in my memory and unearthed a few more examples of why, sometimes, when the planets align, dating doesn’t totally suck.
[Click here to read the first installment in case you’re the kind of person who freaks out when you read things out of order.]
Good Date #4
I am not one to mark dates. “It’s the 3-month anniversary of our first kiss!” is not a phrase you’ll hear coming out of my mouth. But I was meeting a date for dinner and happened to have looked back at my calendar that day in search of something else, and randomly saw the first night I’d met Good Date #4 for a drink.
So that night at dinner, I mentioned it.
“This is actually our 6-week ‘anniversary,'” I said.
“Shit,” said my date.
“Okay,” I said. “Slightly hurtful and not the reaction I was hoping for, but we’ll roll with it.”
“No, no!” He started laughing. “I just meant I would have planned something nicer.”
We were, in fact, eating the world’s best tacos at a dive Mexican restaurant in town.
“This is exactly what I would have chosen to do,” I said. “Beer and tacos is, I believe, the official dinner for the 6-week anniversary, so you’re good.”
Who said women are hard to please?
Good Date #5
I am not a handy person around the house. I know how to fix nothing. I can’t take a DVD player out of the box and get it to work. Electronics blow up around me. One guy had me make a list of all the little things that needed done around my place – air filters changed, towel holders put up, connection to Pandora through my TV. I sat on the couch and read while he took care of everything.
It may not sound romantic, but having someone fix your toilet so it no longer runs counts as big romance in my book. Well played, sir. Well played.
Good Date #6
One date—and this was just a truly amazing thing—put together a scavenger hunt for me. As in, I was told where to pick up my first clue—written in verse, no less—that started me on a two-hour chase around town. The really cool part is that the guy managed to include all of “our” places, like where we’d first met, the restaurant we always went to for dinner, the place we’d had our first kiss…
I can’t even fathom the amount of work that went into orchestrating this. The clues had me looking under rocks, finding signs taped to telephone poles, and locating envelopes with maps taped under tables.
For all you men reading this—kind of makes those weird colored roses you pick up from Harris Teeter for your wife while you buy a six-pack for yourself look kind of lame by comparison, huh?
Time to step it up.