Crossing the Chicken's Road

Sometimes we stand at the edge of the road waiting for something to cross. Waiting for something to happen to us. Yet we do nothing. And sometimes we just stand there in apprehension and then cross. I was at the intersection of apprehension and taking a step the other night. I was nervous because my track record of perfect Friday night dates had been so low. Each Friday a carefully planned activity would slowly fall apart into a mess much like the way tears leave makeup ruined. So as I stood outside the restaurant my thoughts were flooding in. Was my dress attractive enough? Woud the food be good? Would we have a good time? Would something obscure happen again to make it a fail? I just wanted it to go smoothly and yet that seemed impossible for us.

And then I looked up and there you were. Handsome. No, breathtakingly handsome. And from that moment nothing else mattered. I knew the night was perfect. And it really was. Dinner went well. I will admit that I decided to give chicken a shot. It had been ten months since meat and I have spent the meal together but life had been intervening and suggesting a return to the protein of meat. I tried it and it was awkward and uncomfortable. The chicken didnt like me crossing that road and I didnt really like it either. The other side of the street was less strange. Regardless, dinner was lovely and then the suggestion of a surprise appeared. I didnt know what to expect. I actually expected nothing.

Expecting nothing and being taken to an arcade is probably the best thing ever. I could have screamed with excitement. All dressed up for our dinner and yet laughing as we played a few games. I was impressed that you knew that it was exactly what I would want to do. It was perfect. With my recent luck planning dates was such a fail it was making me nervous. Nervous that it meant something wasnt working out. That would be incorrect. After the most perfect evening I feel once again reminded why I am so ecstatic that I have you.