18 1/2 years ago I placed an ad in the Village Voice hoping to meet someone. I had always been single and not thrilled to face who I was. I decided I was ready and started taking actions.
6 months and 24 interviewees later, I met the man who would become my spouse. It was a Sunday morning and we met to go out to eat at Bendix Diner on 8th Avenue. As he crossed the street to meet me, him in his Brooklyn, tough guy leather jacket, I thought what have I gotten myself into. That was 18 years ago today.
I wore a tight t-shirt because after all these other blind dates, I did not care what anyone thought, I had a little more confidence since I had stopped worrying about each outcome. I was a serial 1st dater. Never a 2nd date! I did not know him well enough to share his breakfast, but I still remember he had leftovers and it was killing me! I was raised to not leave over food plus I am a chronic over eater, a lethal combination. Its like an alcoholic hates to see people leave anything left of their drink in their glass.
Anyway, this guy was pleasant enough, i.e., he didn’t run away screaming. The bar was getting lower! I asked if he wanted to continue to hang out, I had to walk downtown and buy coffee (I was fancy in those days and only bought fresh ground coffee at Porto Rico coffee shop on Bleecker Street). He said yes so we extended the date and his funny recollection of the events as they unfolded is, he should have known what he was getting into as I even went shopping on our first date (and haven’t stopped since!).
Before he left he agreed to a 2nd date, I offered Tuesday or Thursday, he said Tuesday. I thought that was a good sign that he didn’t want to wait. Again, I was making believe I had self-esteem.
And the rest is history!