I haven’t been on a first date in almost a decade. Praise Jesus! Hallelujah! ‘Cause frankly, I find that first dates kind of suck. I know, I know…that’s probably not the kind of confession a romance writer needs to make. First dates are supposed to be fun, exciting, and, well, romantic. If you believe what the average rom-com sells you, they’re supposed to leave you feeling giddy and giggly and girlish. And I suppose that’s exactly what they do for plenty of women.
That’s not what they do for me.
The last first date I went on was with my husband who, God love him, is the most painfully shy person I’ve ever met. I asked him out. Well, not exactly. I told him he should ask me out, so he asked me out. Yeah. That’s the way I roll. We had sushi. I tried and failed to make conversation. He squirmed and looked uncomfortable, probably because he was trying to plan his escape from this slightly crazy woman who ordered him to ask her out. I’m not sure how two such completely different individuals managed to fall in love, much less get married, but here we are. Probably has something to do with the fact that he’s as awesome as I am. Also, the sex.