First Dates

Four years ago, today, I drove my mom's car to a city an hour away to hang out with someone I'd met once, and that was a few weeks earlier on a train. Tonight, I was thinking about that day four years ago when I wore clothes that don't fit me now, when I hadn't ever been in a relationship longer than eight weeks, when I hadn't ever had sex before, when I lived in a different state and didn't plan on living in Virginia ever again, when I hadn't ever thought about what my wedding ring might look like, when I didn't completely loathe myself, when my hair wasn't falling out in huge clumps and my abdomen wasn't covered with a scar and stretch marks, when I didn't even know what stretch marks looked like. Tonight, I was thinking about all that and about how on that day, four years ago, I could have never predicted that I'd be driving down a rural highway with a screaming baby in the backseat.
It's the anniversary of my first date with Husband, and the anniversary of when we got engaged a year later. As far as first dates go, I thought it kind of sucked, but not many first dates end up in an eventual marriage, so we must have done something right. My first date with Husband was basically just an extended afternoon of hanging out at his apartment. Nothing illicit, just two people hanging out and chatting (we also went to lunch). I had really high expectations for this date because we'd been emailing for about three weeks before the date, and I was certain that this guy either liked me (something I'd never been certain of before) or that this guy would be my new best friend. I spent the days before the date talking with my friends about this guy and trying to figure out if he liked me as a friend or as more than a friend. After hours and hours of circular conversation, my friend Tim finally said, "Look. He's 24. Guys that are 24 aren't looking for more friends who live six hours away." Tim, Scottie, and I then proceeded to pick out my outfit for the date and talk more about whether or not this guy liked me.
The date's high point was when Husband told me I reminded him of a college aged guy. By the time the date was over, I was confused and didn't understand what had gone wrong. We'd connected those weeks when we emailed. At least I thought we had. After the date, I was on the phone with Tim by the time I got to the first traffic light. Leighann beeped in while I was in the middle of telling Tim how much the date sucked. "It sucked!" I cried to her.
"What the fuck?" she responded, in typical Leighann fashion. "That's fucking impossible."
"No, it's true. Isn't that fucked up?" I got off the phone and proceeded to bitch to Tim, then Scottie about the fucked-upness of said date. I drove to Fairfax and bitched to Caroline and Leighann about the date, and we discussed how it could have possibly been so painfully awkward. During the four hours it took me to drive home from Fairfax, I berated myself for letting the date be so horrible and talked myself out of liking this guy who was so great. When I got home at 3 a.m., I had an email waiting for me. It was from Husband, telling me how much he'd enjoyed the date and how he thought there was "potential for something more than friendship." Instead of replying with my thoughts, as he requested, I left the computer room and cried in my bed. I didn't reply when I woke up the next morning. Instead, I got up, drove back to Fairfax, and discussed the situation with my friend Kara. Then Kara and I discussed the situation with our friend Shayleen. After I'd said about fourteen self-deprecating comments, Shayleen interrupted me.
"Relax," she said. "This is normal. This is good. Things like this are supposed to happen for you. I cannot believe you left this poor guy hanging all day and haven't responded to his email!" I hung my head in shame and promised her I'd respond as soon as I got home. Later, as Kara and I were driving and discussing "trainboy," as we refered to Husband back then, she had to pull over so I could vomit in front of someone's house because I was so freaked out at the idea of me liking someone and him liking me back at the same time. And that started the series of days I like to call "vomit week," where I couldn't eat and threw up every time I thought about Husband, which was quite a bit.
But that was four years ago. Husband rarely makes me throw up these days, and now it's generally in response to an argument or being pregnant. I don't agonize over what I'm going to wear when he's around because he's around all the time. He's lucky if I get time to shave my legs these days. He's seen me at my best, and he's seen me in labor. There's not a whole lot that's left to be revealed, at least not physically. Conversation got a lot easier the more we talked, and we don't have many awkward moments these days. When we do, we laugh about it, usually. We've said things to each other that are more terrible than I thought possible, and he's built me up more than I ever thought possible. I know it's maudlin and sappy, but I'm glad I went on that crappy date.