Before the first date, I had already:
(a) promised to love him forever, and not just on his birthday;
(b) negotiated the terms of a long-term relationship and picked out at least one future child’s name;
(c) given him a Valentine’s day gift (and received one from him too);
(d) kissed him;
(d) checked the yes box when he asked, “will you marry me?”; and
(e) made it public.
Despite all this, I was nervous. So was he.
It was like the previous times we’d gotten together to watch TV, have dinner and drinks, play video games, go to a baseball game hadn’t happened. Of course not, that was all while we were just friends.
That Friday night, I spent more time than usual getting ready. I combed and blow dried my hair (when I do this, people usually think I got a haircut or something). I curled my eyelashes, applied mascara, dusted some blush on my cheeks. I applied and then took off some lipgloss. It was took dark. I wore a dress I’d bought right before I gave up shopping for Lent. I consulted with a friend to figure out which shoes went best. He picked the red peep-toe sandals with a low heal.
I picked him up at his hosts’ house nearby. (Hey, we are kinda nontraditional here.) We shared a plate of pad see ew at a cute Thai restaurant and then headed over to the El Rey Theater for the Bird and the Bee.
With drinks in hand we took our place close to the stage. As we waited, we listed off all the firsts we couldn’t wait for. First fight. First time making up from said fight. First time I cook for him. First birthday together. First holiday. First time he meets my parents. First vacation. First day in LA when it’s officially Sean’s home. And on and on. We waited a while.
The opening act, Juliette Commagere, took the stage and we quieted down. But we started up right after she finished.
“How do you like our first date so far?” I asked.
“I love it.”
We brainstormed more firsts until a very-pregnant Inara George (the bird), Greg Kurstin (the bee) and the rest of the band took the stage. We quieted down again. The Bird and the Bee played a great show. We danced and sang along.
Hey boy, won’t you take me out tonight? I’m not afraid of all the reasons why we shouldn’t even try. Hey boy won’t you make me out tonight? I get excited when I think of crawling in to your arms.
During “Fucking Boyfriend” I sang in to his ear.
“Won’t you be my fucking boyfriend?”
He turned to me, “yes.”
After the show — which included surprise guest John Oates playing along to the Bird and the Bee’s covers of Hall & Oates hits — we made our way home.
“You know what I was thinking, what would our anniversary be? When did we actually get together? The 17th? Today?”
“I think it should be today, because then I can remember something actually happening, not just sending a fax.”