Dating disaster stories are like fishing tales, they get bigger and better with time. My husband reluctantly recounted his first date, an evening that will live on in infamy. He’s a good sport and said I could share the embarrassing debacle on my blog. It happened many, many moons ago when he was just a young high school lad.
A neighboring high school was hosting a Sadie Hawkins dance, a girl-ask-guy affair. A cute girl he’d met through a friend asked him to be her date for the dance. She was a year older than him and much more socially adept. It would be a double date with her older brother and his girlfriend. My hubby accepted the invitation with a bit of trepidation. The dance would be his very first date, and he was relatively clueless about the dating world. It was unfamiliar terrain.
The Sadie Hawkins dance had a country-western theme, so he donned a pair of denim jeans, bandana, and boots. He slicked back his blond hair and topped off his outfit with a cowboy hat. He was ready to face his fate.
His date’s cool older brother cooked dinner at their home before the dance. He was a senior and socially savvy. My hubby was a novice, clumsily attempting to navigate the boy-girl scene without hitting too many speed bumps.
Dinner was fine. The dance was fine. Afterward…not so fine. When it was time to drive home, my hubby and his date sat in the back seat of the car. When they stopped in front of his house, my husband wasn’t sure about proper protocol. After a pregnant pause, he leaned over and gave his date a quick peck on the lips.
“Oooh, gross,” she exclaimed loudly enough for everyone to hear. Mortified, he shot out of the car like a cannonball.
All’s well that ends well, though. Although my hubby wasn’t the cowboy for her, she eventually rode off into the sunset with his good friend (and they’re still married). Happy trails!
