Last night I went on a first date for the first time in over a year. It was quite an experience. I had forgotten about the first-date butterflies, about the will he like me? Will I like him? And all that nonsense.
In my post-outlaw heartache I decided that I was going to get right back in the game. I was going to be the first one to find someone and be happy. He beat me to it, but I did get a date after placing a personal ad on one of them dating sites.
So after e-mailing and chatting for a good three or four weeks we decided to meet. Since both of us are a bit low on cash we decided to go the pizza and a video route. He was supposed to be here at seven. He had car troubles and didn’t arrive until after eight. Which was ok.
Ok, here’s where I get all egotistical which is not like me at all. Because well, I’m a 6’5″ fatgirl and there’s some societal rule that says I have to be full of self-loathing and low self-esteem. I’ve never been very comfortable in my own skin. When you grow and grow and grow to the point where you stick out like a sore thumb it’s hard to get comfortable. I’m still not comfortable with the stares and the questions. I deal with it better than I did when I was younger. In crowds, I square my shoulders, straighten my back and draw my self to my full height, and maneuver the crowd me my head held high. I like to think this gives me a regal appearance, when it probably only makes me look like a snooty bitch. I don’t care, it makes me feel better and I’m proud of my height.
So when dateboy came in, I was shocked to discover that I was the more attractive of this dynamic duo. It just sounds so bad. He wasn’t a toad, but I had it going on last night. My hair was cute, my breasts were perky, and I was ON. And I just felt so good about myself. As we sat there and chatted about junk, I just kept thinking to myself, “I am so attractive. He’s so lucky to be here with me right now. I rule!”
Which is just a delicious change of pace from my usual self-esteem issue bullshit. It felt so good. I was so proud of me. I was comfortable in my skin and I sparkled.
Sadly, I was the only thing with sparks. Dateboy was nice. The evening was nice. Nice isn’t so good, we all know that. We use nice when we can’t think of anything else to say. There were no sparks, such is life.
But damn, I was hot. Single men of the world better look out, because I’m on fire.