Fifty First Dates

I once heard some incredulous fact about how people tend to make judgments based on first impressions within the first 15 seconds of meeting someone. I think it takes me 60 seconds alone just to get people to pronounce my name correctly, let alone get them to evaluate me accurately. But despite my cynicism, I’m inclined to somewhat agree when it comes to matters of the heart. As soon as you meet someone new, you instinctively decide and categorize the respective party into one of the following:
1) no way – “you don’t have a shot”
2) maybe – “sure, I’ll give you a chance”
3) hellz ya – “where have you been?”

In my experience of exploring the male species in this wilderness, I have had many moments that began with one of the above reactions. And ironically enough, I’ve been wrong nine out of ten times – hence why I’ve stopped having any major expectations when a guys asks me out on a date. It’s rare that I get nervous or even excited about a first date, because after a while, you fall into a rhythm and you realize which ones are a waste of time – rather than the time of your life. But last night was different; the night began with a sense of trepidation and ended in simple perfection. Looking back at the past couple of years, it feels as if I’ve been on fifty first dates, but for the first time last night, I thought… I’d rather have a date like this fifty times, every time – because if the first felt this great, I don’t want to imagine it being the last.

(And in case you're wondering, the answer is #3).