In which Kirsten resumes the story in the first person and consumes at least two helpings of the Pie.
It occurred to me only as I was driving to meet Mike at the agreed-upon location: Holy crap!! I'm driving to go meet someone I met on the internet!! What was I thinking?!
Not one to back down at the last minute or avoid potentially awkward circumstances simply because they might be awkward, I kept driving, desperately attempting to ignore the fact that my pulse had accelerated and that my instantly clammy hands belied the otherwise calm & cool exterior I was determined to maintain.
This was not my typical Wednesday afternoon. Not by a longshot.
I couldn't run away from this now. And after all, he had driven up from south Seattle to meet me. Not a short jaunt, by any means. I had signed on for this, had I not? Get a grip, Kirsten!
I am normally a timely person (in fact, I like to show up at least 5 minutes early for everything), but cut my departure time close. As [ill] luck would have it, I was delayed by construction crews, grooved pavement, and unfriendly red traffic lights [sidenote: all good northwesterners know that there are not four seasons here, but three: wet, wetter, & road construction]. I arrived at the destination a few minutes later than expected thinking, dear God, now he's going to think I don't care or that I'm a habitually late person. As if my blood pressure weren't high enough at the moment.
Any awkwardness I felt passed in less than a minute from our meeting. Our conversation was easy, relaxed, and natural. In what felt like a few minutes, two hours had passed. Drinks turned to dinner, which turned to ice cream (sorbet for me, the food-allergy girl), which turned to a walk on the pier on my favorite stretch of local waterfront. Before I knew it, nearly seven hours had passed from the moment I walked in [a few minutes late] to meet him for drinks.
He gave me some CDs to listen to; while we liked many of the same obscure indie bands, he had a few he just knew I would love [in which he was later proven right]. And I knew I'd have to get these back to him eventually, in which the female mind concludes: second date.
.
Another impression of the first meeting? We're also both unabashedly honest, straight-forward people. No games, no hiding, no beating around the bush here. I've always been this way to some degree, but no one I've dated has ever expressed any sort of appreciation of this quality. I never realized until now how much I tempered that trait of mine and kept it under wraps for others who didn't care so much for it. And it was reciprocated in a big way: I like you. I want to see you again. I knew within 10 minutes that you were someone amazing. What are you doing next weekend?
[Ow. My arms are still bruised from how I've pinched them.]
This was pretty much the best first date I've had; a sentiment we both shared. In a matter of hours -- minutes, really -- I felt like I was spending time with someone I had known my whole life. I felt that every relationship cliche I had heard over the years was coming true; I was embodying every single one of them. It will happen when you least expect it. You mean that's really true? When you know, you know. Seriously?
[cue first slice of Humble Pie]
When we spoke two days later, I was glad to hear (to be reminded, really) that my own assessment of our first meeting was not obscured; whatever this was, this was fairly extraordinary. We had connected; I wasn't fabricating this in my own mind [something those of us creative, imaginative types need to watch out for sometimes]. I was going to be in Seattle that weekend and we agreed to meet Sunday afternoon.
We went had lunch at a little Mexican cantina in Fremont (the area of Seattle where the famous
Fremont Troll resides) and briefly wandered around the area. Our three hours together weren't nearly long enough. I had to get on the road to get to my
sister's birthday dinner on time. Suffice it to say, goodbye was difficult. And I returned home a bit later than was intended.
But leave I did, and he came back up the following Wednesday, just one week from our initial meeting. He brought me a big, beautiful pot of red mums (see photo in sidebar at the right). We went to a local wine bar, to a local eatery for some great Italian food, and for a drive along the water. This goodbye came with increased difficulty, and I went to bed too late for the third night in a week.
And here is where the Second Slice of Humble Pie comes into play. You may recall the first post in which I told a friend: What could possibly happen? It's the internet! I ate thick, hearty slices of those words, but [luckily] they went down relatively easily; somehow, I didn't take exception to being wrong about this. Said friend was present and only too happy to ensure each word was chewed thoroughly prior to swallowing.
[It is good and advisable to have a spotter nearby when eating this much Humble Pie]
Not only was this internet dating gig working out well for me [for which I only deigned to sign on, if you recall], it was doing so within one month of when I had joined. And on the first date I had. Most of the eHarmony "Success Stories" on the website read something like, I had been on eHarmony for 1 and 1/2 years and had nearly given up ... I had been internet dating here for almost two years with no success ... John was the 15th eHarmony date I had gone on after being a member of the site for two years; I was about to cancel my subscription. The expectation is that the process works, but requires the Patience of Job, squared.
The first eHarmony date, within my first month of joining. It's still making my head spin. I hate to use the buzzword "success" in this context. It goes against the grain for me when used to speak of any relationship. But I was looking for something particular, and dare I say so? While it's too early to say the future is going to hold this or that, I can say with confidence that what we've got going on here is something rather extraordinary.
Sunset from the drive along the water [date #3]
So I'm not going to make any declarative statements about the future here, at least not now. But what I may declare definitively is this: here is someone who exceeds my expectations, who sees into me in ways that others often miss, with whom I am entirely unselfconscious, and for whom I have already developed a deep affection.
You know I could go on, but I think my fingers might bleed from that much typing.
I kid you not.
[cue music]
Stay tuned for Part 3 in which I explain how this relationship is teaching me to Carve Out a Path for myself.
I pulled the chains out of the trunk of my car (chains that had procured my salvation from an icy hill just a month or so before) and we set to work trying to put them on my front tires. Trying would be the operative word. These chains were hand-me-downs and even though my car drives on the smallest tires made (13"), the chains are somehow a tad too small but can be coaxed onto the tires when the appropriate amount of strength is exerted.
... there was a fair blogger named Kirsten. Kirsten was a single blogger and while she didn’t really mind the fact and found plenty to enjoy about it, she knew she wanted something more. No white knights, no towers, no dragon-guarded castles, mind you; she was no damsel in distress and frankly didn’t have the time or patience to grow sturdy ladder-worthy hair. Frankly, the thought alone made her scalp ache. Sigh. What’s a single gal to do?
