Earlier this week, I went on a impromptu date. We’ll call him The Pianist. He does a lot of things, but as a creative person and music lover, what intrigued me the most is that he plays the piano.
Anyway, impromptu. As in: he asked me out at 6:00pm and we met up at 10:00pm.
Normally, I wouldn’t do this. Normally, I would impose my “you have to ask me out by Wednesday if you want a date by Saturday” rule. But lately, I’ve been living by a new rule.
Say yes if you mean yes.
I thought The Pianist might be cool and I was interested in getting to know him better. And I had nothing else to do on a Monday evening in Charlottesville besides sit at my computer eating Graeter’s black raspberry chip ice cream, pretending to be working on my second book.
Do I want to go out with you? Sure. Tonight? Um…OK.
After almost 15 years in the dating game, I still have to force myself not to analyze invitations. I mean, it wasn’t like he was inviting me over to his place to “watch a movie.”
There’s live music downtown. No cover, cheap drinks and people who know how to have a good time in a small town. This will be fun, I think. If it’s not, at least I’ll get to hear some jazz without having to sit by myself and get hit on by the eager old men at the bar.
Also? I haven’t been out with anyone since my last date with The Writer, so I’m feeling like it would be nice to step out with a man on my arm.
The Pianist seems painfully shy at first. I quickly switch into extrovert mode to strike up conversation. The loud music doesn’t help any, though the band sounds awesome tonight, playing lively covers of Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson. When we leave the bar and start walking around downtown, that’s when he really starts to open up. We talk about life. We talk about our families. We talk about religion and my lack of it.
We walk down to the library. Tonight, it’s lit up like a lonely mansion. I tell him the library is my favorite place in the whole world and he doesn’t laugh. The park across the street is closed, so we sit on the steps near the library instead. We fall into easy conversation, talking for what ends up being hours. I’m glad it doesn’t feel like one of those dreadful first date interviews, but a chat between old friends.
I want to stay longer and talk some more, but I’m tired. For once, I tell a man that I’m tired on a first date and it’s actually the truth!
We hug goodbye.
“Did you have a good time?” he asks.
Say yes if you mean yes.
“Yes,” I say, smiling.
Halfway home, Elle Varner comes on the radio. I feel like the girl at the bar who’s been there too long, can’t stand up.
It’s almost 2:00 in the morning. The only moving objects on the road are my black Honda and what seems like a thousand deer, running aimlessly from the bright lights.
I get home and turn off the engine. I sit in my car for a minute before heading inside, still smiling.
I’m glad I said yes.