Suiting up. Checking phone charge. Putting on cologne. Gathering money. Making dinner reservations. Looking at taxi prices. This is all a first for me. Well, obviously some I've done before. But I've never been so worked up about it before.
Yeah that's right, I'm going on a date. My first and probably my last. I'm getting to hers for 7. Reservations are at 7.30, although I've probably remembered that wrong.
To be honest, I don't care if I fuck this up. I don't want a fancy ‘splash your cash' date. Well, I don't need it at least. I mean, if only you could see what I was dating tonight. She's more beautiful than anything you'd have ever seen. She makes NASA think a new galaxy has been discovered and I can't comprehend the attractiveness she beholds.
I go to college with her and not only is she utterly amazing face wise, but she has an extraordinary personality. It's so hard to find a decent person these days. Especially for me since I'm pretty picky with people.
I'll buy her flowers on the way to her house and set off to dinner. But I don't need it to go smoothly, so I'm not nervous. A perfect date for me is a date with the one I'm falling slowly in love with.
We could sit in a field and count stars or sit in our pyjamas on a worn-out couch and throw grapes at each other. I really don't care. I will always want her to be mine.
No matter what we do.
