Wednesday, July 8, 2009

A favorite date

I get angsty here a lot. You've probably noticed that. That may be my role here though. Roxie is our girl in a healthy relationship with its normal ups and downs. Trixie doesn't really date much, which is a tragedy because she's phenomenal. And then I date around, get attention here and there, go on dates by definition (and every so often an actual date), and it never goes anywhere.

So of course I'm angsty.

Time for a change of pace. This is the story of one of my favorite dates.

To set the stage: I had just finished my freshman year at college. My boyfriend and I had been together for almost a year and were very much in love, but he was preparing to leave for an LDS mission for two years. All of our dates at this point were special and important, because we knew things were going to change forever very soon. We'd known each other for five years by this time, since we'd been in the same home ward since my family had moved in when I was 14. Another man in our ward owned a company that just about every young man in our ward worked for him at some point as a teenager. My boyfriend and his best friends were no exception.

These boys, all of their own accord, decided to host a semi-formal dance in their boss' warehouse. Each of them invited their dates, then spent the next couple of weeks cleaning the warehouse, decorating, putting together a mix CD or two (this was pre-iPod after all), and planning the whole thing. I couldn't wait.

The evening arrived. I wore a dress his mother had helped my mother make back when I was 16 for Junior Prom, which he had actually asked me to. Sadly, he asked me two hours later than the Sophomore I actually went with. He had seen the dress, but I'd never worn it for him. He wore a very sharp suit.

The boys picked up their dates and we went back to someone's parents' house for pictures. (I wonder where those are.) Then, we went out for a delicious dinner at a Mexican restaurant. There was a good group dynamic and we were all getting along very well.

Then it was time for our dance. Four boys in their late teens had done the decorating and it was perfect. The music they'd put together was lovely with a great mix of everything. We had some group numbers and switched partners for slow songs once in a while. They even brought a couple of board games when we were all ready for a break. It really was wonderful.

My least favorite moment: We had chaperones at the dance. I thought this was silly, but most of our group, in fact everyone but my boyfriend and I, had just graduated high school and the chaperones were a couple of their parents. So it made sense. Still, it annoyed me since I'd just been away from home for a year and hadn't had a chaperone it at least that long, plus they were far too close to

My absolute favorite moment: Part of the decorations were that the boys had splatter painted the floor. Except for one spot. My boyfriend had painted a giant pink heart, big enough for the two of us to stand in with room to spare. Inside the heart were the words "Boyfriend + Jinxie", and there was probably an arrow through it. Cliche? Sure, but have you seen such a heart painted on a floor before? I didn't think so. When our song came on, he led me to our spot, and we danced, cheek to cheek. It's possible he even sang the words in my ear, and I know he told me he loved me. We most certainly kissed at the end of the song. Soon enough, I truly did not care that anyone else was in the room. It. Was. Perfect.

The whole night was just magical. It was perfect for us and our relationship, both fun and romantic. That relationship was the first real relationship either of us had been in, and he was just a natural at knowing how to treat me right. We wrote each other for his entire mission (though I had dated others while he was away), and we rekindled almost immediately upon his return home. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be, and he's since married a very lucky woman. I'm happy for them, even though he is the one who got away. With dates like this, how could he not be?


Trixie said...

I remember you telling me that story, but it still makes me smile. I miss the earnestness and fearlessness of those boys we used to know.