I once had a date with this really nice I guy I met while studying at a coffee shop. We talked several times and eventually exchanged numbers. He asked if he could take me on a proper date, so of course, I accepted. He did everything right: picked a great restaurant, made reservations, was considerate of my schedule, and picked me up at my house.
He arrived at my house on time and with flowers. He opened the car door for me. He ordered great wine at the restaurant, and the date was going well. By the end of dinner, I thought, “HEY, I THINK I MIGHT WANT TO SEE HIM AGAIN.”
In gentlemanly fashion, he promptly drove me home after dinner, opened the door for me to get out, and began to walk me to the door. As I walked about halfway up the pathway to my door, amazing leftovers in-hand, he said, “Hey, hang on a second!” as he walked around an opened the trunk of his car.
At this point, my brain is racing. I am in full fight or flight response. HE’S GOING TO PULL A GUN OUT OF THE TRUNK AND KILL ME HERE. OR OH CRAP, THERE’S A SACRIFICIAL LAMB IN THE TRUNK. OR A DEAD BODY. OMG. Every possible, horrible, awful creepy thing ran through my head. My pulse was racing. My dogs were going absolutely crazy on the inside of my house while they peered out the window.
It seemed like ages for him to get whatever it was he was going to get out of this trunk. And then, there he was, in all his glory, trying to steal my heart. This man serenaded me with a guitar in the middle of my front yard while I held leftovers in my hand. WHO BRINGS A GUITAR TO THEIR FIRST DATE???? IN THEIR TRUNK??? WOW. He played a good two minute song I had never heard, and I think it’s safe to assume it was an original song. My neighbors were walking out of their houses to see what all the fuss was about. GREAT!!! (Oh, did I mention that three of my neighbors are ladies in their 60’s). Yeah, they were giggling too. LOVELY! Now, not only do I have to stand here and pretend to enjoy this, but I also have to be thankful I’m not dead. Cool.
I’m not the best at “faking” actual reactions. They always come across as sloppily covered up honest emotions. (kinda like that time I received a miniature shopping cart full of tea at a sorority girl-esque gift exchange? um, what am I going to do with a shopping cart fit for a cabbage patch kid? yeah, that’s the face I’m talking about.) I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, collapse in relief that my life wasn’t in danger, or just walk inside. So, I stayed. For all two minutes. And I said “THANK YOU.” It was all I could muster without completely bursting into laughter.
He replaced his guitar in his trunk, and closed it. He then walked me to my door and kissed me on the cheek. Sweet enough, right? Sure. Wasn’t my WORST first date, but wasn’t my BEST either.
Exactly three weeks later, on Valentine’s Day, I received a delivery. It was a dozen red roses and a small box. Hmmm…..I anticipated the flowers, but the box. This was curious. My little romantic mind thought it may be a gift card or a “ticket” to another date. But, no, it was the guitar pic from that night strung on a necklace full of 1990’s hookah shells, or pookah shells, whatever those things are. Yeah, a shell necklace with a commemorative guitar pic from the random serenade in my front yard. Now, looking back, it could have been romantic, but in the moment, this was horrible, and awkward, and just downright embarrassing. This was not, in any way close to, the John Cusack scene in Say Anything. The serenade, the horrible necklace. It was all too much. Too soon. Too intense. Just trying too hard it felt disingenuous. But, as I stood in my front yard, neighbors watching, while a man serenaded me with a guitar he pulled from his trunk, I couldn’t help but be thankful that guitar wasn’t a gun or a machete. That was literally all I could think about. So, I guess this nail polish name is perfect. He didn’t steal my heart, but he did “steel my heart.” Do you think that’s what they meant when they said “be still my heart.” Are we sure it wasn’t “be steel my heart??”
Next time a man tries to pull something from his trunk on a first date, I’m just gonna run. And I don’t run. That moment is scary. Guys, please find another way to be cute.
Stay Glittery, Daters,