A few minutes after I got home from our second date, I got a text from Sgt. Younger:
Thanks again for dinner, I had a great time tonight. Goodnight!
"Awww," I thought, "he's sweet." I went to bed.
I woke up the next morning and discovered he'd sent a second text, a couple of hours later--sometime after 2am:
So I hope you made it home okay. Let me know.
Oh, crap. CRAP. I am a horrible dater, and a thoughtless person. Surely he didn't stay awake wondering and worrying about me? I knew he was an insomniac, so I assumed/hoped that was the case. Why didn't I just respond to his text? I hurried to reply:
Hey! Sorry, just saw your text; my phone was on vibrate. I made it home just fine, hope you got some sleep. I had a really fun time last night & hope to see you again soon. Have a great day!
We texted a couple of times that week, and made tentative plans to get together that Saturday. He called me Friday afternoon, and had a choice of plans: grill dinner at his place and then go two-steppin' or meet up with his friend (who had out of town guests? or who was in town for the weekend? unclear) and go out on his boat. I could tell he wanted me to pick the friend option, since the boat occasion seemed like something different than the usual Saturday, so I agreed. And then freaked out about the idea of wearing a swimsuit in front of him. A swimsuit is basically underwear, right? Even if I wore a one-piece, it was all fitted and skin-showing and pretty much almost naked. Almost naked on a third date was not in my life plan.
Saturday morning I got up early, drove to the swimsuit store, and threw myself on the mercy of the saleslady. I explained that I was going on a third date ON A BOAT and needed to feel something other than OMGI'MNUDEDON'TLOOKATME. She helped me pick out a ton of options, and I spend 30 or so humiliating minutes in the dressing room squeezing in and out of tankinis. At least it kept my mind off the idea that Sgt. Younger's friends and/or girlfriends--all probably many years younger and several shades tanner than me--would all be judging me later that afternoon. I finally found a swimsuit that I hoped would direct attention appropriately: here are my boobs, don't look at my aging pale slightly jello-y thighs.
Around noon, he texted me and asked if I could come over at 1:30. We'd go from his place, and maybe later we could eat dinner somewhere on the lake and then go dancing. That is a lot of things! I decided to deal only with lake + dinner, and deal with the idea of shower/getting ready/dancing later as needed. My ability to not worry about this lack of a plan impressed me. Evidently, my brain was still consumed with horror about my body being nearly naked on a boat.
I arrived at his place, and he came out to my car to meet me. He was a little sweaty, and almost disheveled. He explained that he'd gone out for a burger and beer with his friends the night before, and it had turned into an all-night drinking party. He'd had just a few hours of sleep, was totally hungover, and hadn't eaten anything since Friday night. He said he told his friends that he didn't want to stay out late because he had a great date planned for the next day, but apparently that is code to other former military guys to make their friend regret making Saturday plans. I could tell he was trying to rally, but that was doing little to counteract how secretly annoyed I felt with him for acting cranky and feeling a little ill. Our conversation in the car was stilted, at best. Even when we started making "damn" jokes as we drove over Mansfield Dam.
Upon arrival at the. . .ramp where the boat goes in the water? dock? lake park? I met Billy and Sally. Turns out Billy is a long-time friend of Sgt. Younger's, and a former (current?) neighbor. I assumed Sally was Billy's girlfriend. I was surprised to note that Billy was probably at least 40, and Sally was. . .maybe a little older than that? Or maybe she'd just lived hard. She did talk about a daughter in college, growing up at/in/near a Canadian marina, and her current (second) part-time job working at Victoria's Secret. We drove around and around the lake in the boat, until we were practically melted to the seats begging Billy for relief, and finally anchored for a swim. Sgt. and I got out of the water before the others, who had floated a little further out and who I didn't want to observe too closely--they seemed to be swimming pretty close together. We sat on the back of the boat and talked about Sgt's home town in the NE, how he grew up on the ocean and in a sail boat, and how he was planning a week-long trip home in a couple of weeks. I'd almost forgotten about the canoodling couple in the water, when Billy climbed up the ladder with the fly on his khaki shorts open. Ewww. Yes, he wore khaki shorts instead of a swim suit. Just like the Crocodile Hunter.
After another long drive around the lake, we arrived back at the dock ramp close to dark. As the fellas coordinated hooking the boat up to Billy's truck and getting it out of the water, Sally and I had a few minutes to talk. She asked me how long we'd been dating, and I told her it was our third date. Turns out it was her and Billy's second date--their first had been the night before. (This brought up a lot of questions I left unasked.) She told me they'd connected via match online dating a year prior, had emailed and become facebook friends, but never met until now. Huh. She said she'd been worrying about some BFF and his GF judging her all day. It's like we were the same person! (We were so not the same person.)
We all said our goodbyes and walked back to the car. Sgt. asked if I still wanted to get dinner, and I told him it was "manager's choice." I knew he must have been feeling pretty terrible in hangover land by then, but wanted to see how he handled it. He gave me a weird look and asked if I was the manager in this scenario. (Oh, right. Sgt. doesn't know the lingo I used with my former boyfriend.) I let him know that I meant he was the manager, since he'd planned our day. He told me he felt like we should probably just call it a day, and we went back to his place, and my car. He gave me a quick hug, a brief peck of a kiss, and said goodnight.
I was home by 9pm on our Saturday night date. So much for dinner and dancing.
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