First Date

I'm sitting at the kitchen table with a huge bowl of pasta, despite the fact that someone is coming to take me out for dinner in about an hour. Unconciously, the basic girl first-date rule has popped into my head: you eat before being taken on a dinner date, so that you can order something dainty like a salad without feeling absolutely starved by the time the bill arrives. Saves you from looking like an absolute pig when he's around.

I'm also still debating what to wear. Something cute, but that doesn't look like I'm trying too hard to impress. A colour I know he likes, that I can laugh off as being pure coincidence when he says how much he loves it on me.

The funny thing is, I know that none of this is necessary. He's seen me in sweats, no make-up and hair tossed up in a messy ponytail. Knows that I can put back a couple pounds of the sauciest chicken wings in a single sitting, and come back for seconds. Doesn't care if I'm wearing high heels or Chuck Taylors. In fact, he prefers the latter. Has heard me sing off key, yet still lets me play my favourite songs and bop along in the passenger seat.

I think this will be my first first-date without butterfly wings humming inside my stomach, or a jackhammer thumping against my chest.

But perhaps I should consider getting out of my pjs and trying just a little, don't want him to think I'm too comfortable or that I like him that much. Not yet, anyway.