Firsts

The Girl On The Red Velvet Swing

Old San Francisco

Saturday night, date night!  First date in a very long time.  First date since MY INDEPENDENCE DAY. First date as a single mom.  First date in my twenties.  First date with a mutual employee.  First date with a France.  Okay, you get it, First Date.

I was so excited!  I had to do my hair and find something to wear.  Decisions, decisions.  Not really.  I didn't have that many clothes.  I would wear a dress since we were going to a nice place and because he liked my legs.  I had no idea what to expect as far as the establishment was.  He had just told me that it was a nice place.  He was a pretty savvy guy; I was sure that he knew what he was talking about.

I had to take Glen and Jeff to one of the ladies from the daycare, Penny, who loved them and spoiled them like they were hers.  My mom would never babysit for me, and if she did, I would have to pay her and give her money to buy them food.  They would have more fun with Penny at her house around her family.  They were excited to go over there.  I took them around 4 so that I could take my time getting date ready.  Date ready was different than Mom ready.  It was extreme.

At seven, France knocked on my door.  He was wearing a nice casual shirt and dress pants.  And he smelled good.  I like it when men wear nice smelling cologne or aftershave.  Our reservation wasn't until 9:30, so he wanted to go to some nice place hidden by trees on Cedar Springs Ave. in Dallas.  I didn't have a clue where we were.  Everyone, there was about our age and dressed well.

I wasn't much of a drinker.  He asked what I wanted, and I told him I didn't want anything where you could taste more alcohol than the mix.  He ordered me a Tequilla Sunrise, heavy on the Sunrise.  Mmm.  It was quite tasty.  I liked it, and I sucked it down really fast.  Nerves.  He asked me if I wanted another, and of course, I said yes.  We talked for a while, and then we went to another nice place in the same area.  He obviously knew his way around the neighborhood.  Another Tequilla Sunrise, please.

He was asking me a lot of questions, questions that I couldn't answer.  About relationships.  What was I looking for?  What was I interested in?  What did I want to do with my life?  I told him that I didn't know the answers to what he was asking me.  The only thing that I really knew was that I didn't want to get involved in any deep relationships.  I told him that I wanted to enjoy being single; I didn't want to answer to anyone.  I didn't want a relationship that was assumed.  You know, like, you assume you are going to automatically be with the person every weekend or just hang out together doing nothing planned.  I didn't want to be and wouldn't be taken for granted.  Was it time to go to eat yet?  He was making me uneasy.

The restaurant was a bit of a drive from the area we were in.  Like I said, I didn't know what to expect.  It wasn't an IHOP, that's for sure.  There was valet parking, which was nice, just like the movies.  When we went inside, it was very cool looking.  It looked like a very old-fashioned saloon but decorated elaborately—lots of red velvet and wood and leather.  The waiters wore old period type clothing, the guys with vests, the girls with little red velvet skimpy outfits.

It smelled wonderful in there.  I loved steak.   I mean loved. I Loved it, loved it.  Even though I was quite slim, I could eat as much as any guy, especially steak.  Stupidly, back then, I liked my steak well done.  That is because that is the way my mom cooked everything.  She killed it the second time around.  At least these steaks were going to be so thick that it wouldn't matter, just make it crispy on the outside, no blood, preferably no pink showing.  I got a twenty-something ounce steak. It was like 24 or 28 ounces.  France asked me if I knew how big that was, and I said no.  He just laughed at me and ordered it.  He ordered drinks and salads.  I was starving; unless I am working, I did not eat, but one time a day.   They brought these wonderful salads that tasted so good because it was quite hot out.  The plates were chilled, and everything was crisp. More drinks.  Good grief, my eyes were crossing a little, I think.  I didn't want a repeat of the Polish wedding where I was so drunk that I couldn't even cut the meat.  I ordered some iced tea.  I would drink that with the meal.


This little waif prissed over to us with our bounty of steaks.  Wow, they were big.  Well, mine was.  He ordered a filet.  The waitress prepared the baked potatoes tableside according to your preference.
"Butter, more butter, please, just butter, thank you a little more, please."  That was me.  France took everything, cheese, butter, bacon bits, sour cream. Chives.  I didn't have to worry about cutting the steak; it was wonderful, tender, delightful, better than sex.  Well, maybe not.  While we were eating, a girl climbed onto a red velvet swing and was swinging above our heads about 30 feet off the ground.  She performed for quite a while.  The motion actually made me a little queasy; I had to stop watching her.

Now France was very well mannered, but he still ate like a man, meaning quickly.  I am a very slow eater, and I eat one thing at a time.  I just let him talk while I chewed.  He ordered dessert while I was still eating the steak.  I ate everything, everything.  He couldn't believe it.  I could—what a great dinner.  Yes, I do like to dance.  Now we were going dancing somewhere.

I couldn't tell you where we went; I think it was in a club at one of the big hotels off of Stemmons Freeway.  He was a good dancer.  He was a great slow dancer.  I was hanging on like we were one person.  A few kisses on the dance floor?  Yes, I think I will.  A big kiss on the dance floor?  Yes, please.  Did I hear somebody open a bottle of wine?

Oh, tempting man.  I had taken a sip of wine.  I had swished it around and breathed it in, and it was delightful, but I can not partake of the entire glass, not on this night.  This night had been too special and without obligation, and it would end that way.  For tomorrow would be another day.