The Date Went Well

An update to: ‘My First Date in Many Years’

For those who read my recent story, My First Date in Many Years, I feel I should report on how the date went. That story was about how I came to ask someone on a date but that was before I ever went on the actual date. I am happy to now say that the date went very well.

My date was wearing a beautiful light blue wrap-around dress with floral patterns.

“Look, when I twirl around the dress flies up and I’m like a butterfly.” She twirled rapidly around a few times to show me.

To hold back her long golden hair there was a hair pin atop her head that had a plastic butterfly on it. How appropriate. Over her shoulder was slung a purse that had an owl face stitched to the front of it. It was very thin and I wondered if she even had anything in it.

“You look absolutely stunning!”

“Grandpa! I’m not stunning. I’m pretty.”

“Oh, uh… yeah… uh… well, you certainly are pretty!”

I haven’t been on a date in decades. I didn’t know the proper things to say — especially to an eight-year-old girl. My granddaughter had never been on a date in her life but she probably knew more about dating protocol than I did. After all, she watched TV and I didn’t. Plus I suspect her mother gave her some coaching.

Once we got to the concert venue we barely made it through the small lobby area before three different people turned to my date and said, “Oh, what a pretty dress!” Each time my date put her hand over her chest, smiled then politely said thank you. Once, she even curtsied. In her mind was she a princess going to the ball?

I arrogantly call myself a writer but those three strangers knew the proper adjective to use to describe the dress and I did not.

All the tables in the restaurant directly in front of the little stage were either filled or had ‘Reserved’ signs on them. We found an unreserved table off to the side. Luckily, the tables in this area were on a raised floor so we would be able to see above the heads of those at the tables in front of us. We had a fairly good view of the stage.

It was after seating ourselves that something interesting happened. The table was set with water glasses, folded cloth napkins and perfectly placed silverware.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes?”

“My whole life I have always felt very uncomfortable with knives,” she was holding her hands tightly up under her chin. “Would you be so kind as to remove that steak knife away from me?”

“Uh, sure.” I picked up the steak knife and brought it over to my side of the table.

“Thank you,” she dropped her hands down into her lap.

What kind of eight-year-old talks like that? I feel very uncomfortable? Would you be so kind? And my whole life? That has a very different meaning coming from an eight-year-old than, say, an eighty-year-old. She was being so polite and proper and adult.

But what freaked me out was her aversion to knives. You know someone for eight years and you think you know all about them but you learn something new each day. What was freaky, though, is that when I was a child I, too, had a very strong aversion to knives. Actually, that aversion has stayed with me my whole life although with slowly diminishing intensity. Right now I only have one sharp knife in my kitchen and I keep it sheathed and hidden away, only bringing it out for special cooking needs.

Eventually, I learned that my own aversion to knives came about because in another life I had been brutally murdered by a sword-wielding band of assassins. I wondered where my date’s aversion came from. It was interesting to learn that we had something in common.

“So when are they gonna come take our order? I’m starving.”

“They’re not. Everyone gets the same meal. The way I understand it is that they will serve a salad first then the main meal. Then the concert will begin. Then there will an intermission during which dessert will be served.”

“Oh. Grandpa, why are there two forks and why is one bigger than the other?”

“Well, the big fork is the salad fork and the smaller one is for the main course.”

“Wouldn’t it make sense to use just one fork? That way there’s less to clean up afterwards.”

“Yes, that would indeed make more sense but using two forks is the proper fancy way to eat,” I leaned forward. “And besides, we don’t have to do the dishes.”

“Thank God!”

Our salads promptly arrived. The salads were in fancy glass bowls atop a small plate. To the side of the bowl of salad was a small cup of salad dressing, a pat of butter and a roll.

“What’s that?”

“That’s a pat of butter.”

“A pat?”

“Yeah, it’s for your roll. Since you don’t have a knife would you like me to slice your roll so that you can put the pat of butter on it?”

“Yes, please.”

I wondered how many times her mother had told her, “Don’t forget to always say please and thank you.”

As I ate my salad I watched my granddaughter eat hers. She ate like a starved wolverine — the same way I ate as a child.

Throughout salad and dinner we talked a lot. I asked her a lot of questions about music. After all, I was taking her to a classical music concert in hopes of getting her excited about music. The big question was, What instrument did she want to play?

“Well, as you know, I play the recorder right now. I’m getting pretty good. Next time you come over for a playdate I’ll have to show you the new songs I learned. But, as you know, there are no recorders in band so I think I might like to play the flute. It’s a lot like a recorder except sideways. But someday I’d really like to play the piano. It takes a lot of fingering like the flute — and I’m good with my fingers — but you don’t have to blow.”

I laughed. I loved her thinking. I tucked the piano information away in my noggin for future reference.

She then told me about the trophy she had just won in school, “It was for spelling. I went 100 spelling tests in a row without a single incorrect answer. That stretched all the way to near the beginning of last year. No one in my school had ever done that before.”

“Holy smokes! That is incredible! I’m so proud of you.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “It really wasn’t that hard. Spelling is SO easy.”

Maybe to her it is. She is like a little Sheldon Cooper when it comes to spelling and reading. According to her teacher she is reading at an eighth grade level even though she is only in second grade. But that is no surprise to me. I started reading books aloud to her when she was still in diapers. I always brought library books with me when I went over to her house. My rule was there would be no playing until we first read a couple of books. By the time she was four years old she would no longer let me read the books, insisting on reading them herself aloud to me. I knew first-hand of her amazing reading ability.

Then I asked her about her boyfriends.

“I don’t have any boyfriends!”

“But back before Christmas you told me that you had five boyfriends.”

“Yeah, well I broke up with all of them. Boys are so stupid.”

I laughed. Gosh, she was so smart.

That is when the musicians got up on stage. There were three violinists and a piano player. I’m not sure if that is technically a string quartet but it was definitely a quartet.

I looked around the room. I guessed there were around 75 people in the audience and there was no room for more. There were only five children; my date and the four children one family brought with them. Everyone else in the audience seemed to be over the age of fifty. There were no younger adults at all. Would classical music die out? Would it become a thing of the past? But then I looked at my date who was eagerly watching the musicians set up and I realized there was still hope.

Then I looked at my date’s dinner plate which was completely empty. Goodness gracious, where did that little girl put all that food? She even ate all her brussels sprouts.

As the music began I quickly realized that the musicianship was of the highest caliber despite the fact that we were in a little podunk backwater town out in the middle of the sticks. One of the violinists in particular was downright extraordinary. I was very impressed.

Eventually there came the intermission… and dessert! We were told that the desserts would not be served to our tables, that they were set out on tables in the lobby along with coffee and that we could all go select our own desserts. As my date and I went to get our desserts about five or six people told my date how pretty she was and how pretty her dress was.

The second set of music was about to start when my date suddenly jumped up out of her chair and ran back to the lobby. I wondered what she was doing but I did not get up. Soon she returned with another dessert on a paper plate.

After she sat down I leaned forward and said to my date, “I think we were only supposed to get one dessert each.”

“I know. It’s not for me. I got this dessert to take home to my sister.’

Wow! I was speechless. When I was a kid I never in a million years would have ever done anything so kind and loving for either of my two younger sisters. I was blown away.

Halfway through the second set of music my date jumped out of her chair and came over and jumped onto my lap. That may not have been proper date protocol but I certainly did not complain. With her in my lap I could actually feel her enjoying the music.

After the concert was over my date went over to where the musicians exited the stage and she thanked and hugged each one of them. I got out my phone and called my date’s mother to have her come pick us up. (Now there is something I never thought I would ever say.)

When my daughter dropped me off at my apartment my granddaughter, who was in the back seat, rolled down her window, “Thanks, Grandpa, for the date. I’ll always remember it.”

I stuck my head in the window and kissed her on the cheek, “Thanks for going with me. Bye.”

As my daughter’s car drove off, my date stuck her arm out the window and waved. I waved back.

I will always remember it, too.