Friday night, date night, arrived with all of the weariness of a work week behind it. I was feeling less than enthusiastic about presenting myself and all of the dating prep involved. Not personally toward Jeff, just the same natural tired and cranky most of us possess and present on Friday nights.
But, I started in, anyway. Brushed my teeth, curled my hair (yes, I had hair), put on the outfit I had planned on wearing and self-critiqued it with dismal results. I was staring into my closet when my doorbell rang. I suppose the look on my face when I opened the door gave me away, because she was eyeing me warily.
“I don’t like this outfit,” I reported without her having to ask. “I didn’t like this day, either. And, I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna like tonight.” Yep, my cranky-meter was full-swung to 11.
She thought my outfit was cute, but you know how it is when you’re just not feeling cute. You may have liked the ensemble at 8:00 AM in the morning, but dusk has turned it into over-trying costume.“Maybe I should try something else,” I sighed. We took six short steps into my bedroom and collectively gazed at my choices. I tried a few more things on, while continuing to grumble unenthusiasm.
Me: I really don’t want to.
The voice of reason responded: You can’t cancel now.
Me: He might check his email before he leaves.
Her: You know he has to be on his way.
Me: I’m not in the mood for a get-to-know-you conversation.
Her: You’ll be eating. There won’t be that much talking.
Me: He’s probably some big ol’ Bubba missing his front tooth.
I put my original date-wear back on, finished tying my shortie boots, skeptically glanced up from under my eye lashes, and stood staring into the closet again.
Me: Will this purse work?
Her: He’s not gonna care about your purse.
Me: (laughing) Ok. Ok.
Her: (hug) I want a report when you get back.
Me: (hug) Absolutely.
No surprise, I got there early. Earlier than usual, even, because I had no idea long it would take me to get to Okemos on a Friday night. I decided to sit for a spell, and check my make-up, because, as I mentioned, I was not feeling cute. I threw my anti-shine powder into my paisley purse, unbuckled my beat and sat back thinking I’ll go in in a few, talk to the hostess, and provide my normal this-is-weird-but-I’m-on-an-internet-date spiel.
I never got the chance.
Quote for the Week:
Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:
President Harding’s Impression: http://www.forbes.com/sites/work-in-progress/2014/09/05/how-important-is-your-first-impression-really/
First Impressions in Person vs Online: http://psychcentral.com/news/2014/02/15/the-power-of-a-first-impression/65944.html
Do All These Things, But Be Yourself: http://www.inc.com/jayson-demers/7-keys-to-making-a-perfect-first-impression.html