Chicago winters are nasty, and there I was sitting at my computer
asking myself did I really accept a date for dinner with
a man I had never met and walk three long blocks, freezing my
fanny off ? What was I thinking?
The truth is a good friend had convinced me to sign up for an
online dating service, and I was down to my last few days of having
free access to it, but free also meant I couldn’t see any photos of the
men there, nor could they see me. This truly was a blind date.
Doing this definitely took courage because either one of us could
have been a dud, and then what? Yes, this took bravery along with a
dose of what the hell was I thinking because it was freezing outside.
I primped. Who doesn’t want to look terrific on a first date?
Then again, who looks for a new relationship during the holidays?
My brain kept telling me that the men on the site were probably
trying to get lucky, I mean why else would they join at the holidays?
It is like admitting they were bums that had gotten tossed out.
Never mind the fact that I also had joined at the holidays.
I had returned to Chicago from living in Costa Rica with a stop in
Detroit to visit friends before coming back to the windy city. On top
of all of this, I was still married, although the divorce was imminent.
I primped some more. I won’t lie, I went for a sexy look with
a mini-skirt and low-cut top, and I added a spritz of “Obsession,”
my signature scent. I walked the three long blocks to the restaurant
he had chosen in low-heeled shoes, still slipping and sliding
along the way.
I walked into the restaurant, and the world stopped spinning
for a minute. There he was, just as he had described, tall with a
beautiful head of silver hair, and a look on his face that told me
he appreciated what he was looking at, and in fact that look told
me he felt as if he had won the lottery. I knew I had already won it.
It was a noisy Friday evening, people were laughing and
talking, but all I could hear was the beat of my heart as I walked
up to this amazingly sexy man. His smile lit up the room, and for
the first time in a long time I was speechless.
We laughed through dinner; we told our stories, and suddenly
the check arrived and all I could think was I had to come up with
something to keep this evening going. I wasn’t ready to say goodnight,
and I had a feeling he felt the same way.
I suggested we take a walk over to Marshall Fields on State
Street to look at the holiday windows without giving a thought
to the fact that my skimpy attire was iffy for windy and blowy
Chicago winter nights.
We were not that far from the restaurant when I realized I
was having a wardrobe malfunction. I was wearing thigh-high
nylon stockings, and they were slipping in the frosty weather.
Undoubtedly this was because my thighs had shrunk from the
cold, and it was all I could do to walk normally while occasionally
trying to hike them back up.
I have always been a bold woman, and what I should have
done was just stop and peel them off. But no, I continued to keep
them where they belonged in the name of keeping this date going
by doing some strange convoluted-looking dance.
Weeks later, when I admitted this to Larry, he laughed so hard
his face turned red, and he came right out and asked why I hadn’t
just peeled them off without missing a beat.
By this time, he had already learned how bold I could be, and the bolder I was, the harder he fell.
Yes, in looking back, that was the magical night when we
both began to heal from our pasts and we both began to become