It was seven years ago, on Valentine’s Day, that I asked a very sexy lady to go on a date with me. I had been pursuing this fox for some time and finally got the gumption up to ask her out for dinner. In years prior, I spent my Valentine’s Day with my parents, which usually entailed eating a fancy dinner of chicken fingers at Big Boy. That sad tradition was soon to be history the day I planned my first ever “real” Valentine meal. The night was crisp, being February in Michigan, and I had asked my roommate if I could borrow his dress clothes for the occasion. Informing the guys at the dorm was half the fun and I may have lingered to long discussing my optimistic plans for romance. Suddenly, it was time to go pick up the lady and I rushed off through the empty quad to reach my date’s quarters. Reaching the door, I slowly raised my hand to knock but was overcome with sudden nervousness. “What if she doesn’t have fun?” “She can’t like a guy with braces.” “Should I give her a hug or a soft handshake?” “I want to get Ice Cream with her but can I hold in the subsequent gas!” Scoffing of the insecurities, I knocked. The door opened and my eyes lit up when I saw the most beautiful woman in the world. She wore a purple blouse that matched her radiance and surprisingly my own purple shirt. We stood at the door for quite some time staring until it got a little weird. Breaking the silence, I complemented her beauty and we set off for our special dinner.
We arrived at the restaurant only to find a long wait before we could be seated (I forgot to make a reservation). We were about to change our plans and go somewhere else when she said-“No, it’s okay we can stay and talk.” Those words seemed to melt my body into a pool of logophile-philosophical nirvana. I thought, “Not only is she drop dead sexy but she also wants to sit down and have a long conversation!” Time seemed to stand still during that chat and we soon were jettisoned to our table where we continued to converse, laugh, and digest our thoughts and food. The more the date went on the more enamored I became with this perfect specimen of a woman. Following our meal we decided to take a walk. This was when the nerves really kicked in. I had never seriously held hands with another girl. Sure, I held a girl’s hands during the obligatory Thanksgiving prayer and youth group sing-a-long but never in a romantic fashion. The only problem was I didn’t know how to initiate the intermingling of fingers. Should I just reach down and grab her hand? What if she snatches it away? I came up with a solution. I told her about a thing called “Keno” that my roommate Chris taught me about. Keno is the gradual increase in intimacy as a relationship matures. For example, the Keno at the beginning of a relationship is playful shoulder bumps or prolonged starring. It progresses to things like hand holding, hugs, and make-out sessions. After telling her about Keno, I said that “we should go to the next level.” I reached for her hand and intertwined my fingers with hers. I felt my whole body light up and I swear that first hand hold was the hedonic equivalent of eating donuts with John Candy. We finished our hand-holding walk and I took her back to her dorm room. We hugged for quite some time-not wanting to let go which would signal the end of our spectacular night. I said goodbye and seven years later that same amazing lady I took on a date is my wife, my best friend, and my biggest blessing. This Valentine’s Day, take a second to sincerely say “I Love You” to the those most dear to you and take your own trip on the memory lane of love.