On my first date with Matt, I was a 24 year old with a new master's degree, one week of teaching under my belt, a new apartment and new roommates. I had been living the single girl's life in the city and really enjoying the freedom in that. I stayed out at bars until they closed, I walked home alone texting and ordered pizzas to share at 3am. I drank Bud Light or Miller High Life exclusively because they were cheap. I wore lots of brown and chandelier earrings. I had super long, blonde hair and could run 3 blocks wearing high heels. I worked out only occasionally and that meant 25 minutes on an elliptical trainer texting a cute boy about where he was going that night.
This was only 3 years ago. When Matt picked me up for our first date I wasn't ready. My roommate had woken me up from a nap (boy, did that first week of teaching really wear me out!) and I was in the shower when he knocked on the door. I answered the door with wet hair, a towel around me, and gave him a beer to drink while he talked to my roommate. I had only lived there a few days so I rummaged through trash bags to find shoes to wear. My cheeks were pink from liberally applied blush and the heat of the blow dryer. I wore hot pink high heels so high and so tight on my chubby feet that they left red marks and blisters from just putting them on. I hoped he wouldn't notice that I wasn't graceful enough for them.
At dinner we talked about his trip to Spain in high school, favorite spots in Brighton, our families and friends and all the standard first date chats. He talked with his hands and didn't seem bored with me. He asked me so much about myself, it was strange not to have to carry the conversation. The restaurant was really hot and his brow got a little sweaty. I smiled and gave him permission to wipe it with his napkin; he seemed aware and self-conscious about it. His teeth were perfectly straight and we talked about how he'd never had braces. His hair was so dark and his knees touched mine under the table because his legs were long. He asked me so politely if I'd like a second glass of sangria and he was not wearing sneakers. I had never been on a date with someone not wearing sneakers. I had never been on a date with someone who owned dress shoes. When he excused himself to go to the restroom, I called my sister and whispered into the phone, "I feel like I'm on the first date with my husband." I hung up quickly so he wouldn't come back and see I'd made a call.
When dinner was over we met my roommates at a nearby bar for drinks. This was standard dating procedure, whenever any of us went on a date the others waited at a nearby bar. If the date was awful, it was a quick "thanks for dinner" and straight to the bar to tell the horror story to the girls. If it was decent, well then my friends just happened to be out nearby, did he want to stop for a drink with them? With this plan, we could all judge him together. As he ordered me a beer at the bar, I confessed to my friends that he seemed really great but I wasn't sure if he was too serious for me. The front man of the ac/dc cover band sprang his tiny body up onto the bar (yes, there was a cover band at the bar). The guy grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started pouring it into open mouths below. Embarrassed that this was where I'd taken the man wearing dress shoes, I looked up at Matt. He was stood next to me, occasionally putting his hand on the small of my back and making conversation with my friends. I watched as he opened his mouth, let in a big swig of whiskey and grinned.
It's funny how little things tell you a lot about a person. I wasn't looking to learn that Matt had a drinking problem (which he does not, by the way) but more that he could relax with me. It's been 2 and half years now and being with Matt has taught me that it really isn't what a person says, its what he does. I was always looking for red flags in my life, signs that showed me to back away, move forward, make a change. I had never let myself see the other kind of sign, the "white flags" of surrender to the good stuff.
Now my Saturday nights are slow dancing in the kitchen and wine by the fireplace. Watching rented movies on the couch or heading to happy hour. Its crock pot meals and cups of tea. Scented candles and loads of laundry. I've planted my big white flag in our front lawn and I've surrendered. He is my home.
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