The First Date (Or Was It?)

Saturday arrived. My roommate and I were ready and waiting when the boys arrived. I had spent more than ample time getting ready (wouldn't you on your first official date of the semester?) and was prepped for a fun and flirtatious evening. The guys lingered at our apartment for a bit, muttering something about planning on going to a high school football game but it turns out the game was last night. So despite their best efforts to think of something equally as fun as a high school football game (what can compare?), we ended up at the bowling alley on campus.

I didn't mind the change of plans, except for the fact that I SUCK at bowling. I always embarrass myself because I try to find the lightest ball, but then the finger holes are too small and the ball gets stuck on my hand instead of rolling gracefully down the lane. On a good night, I can get a score of 30. And that's with the bumpers. By the time I had my bowling shoes on, I had pretty much kissed any potential of this date goodbye. To make it even better, Jeff and his roommate, who I would come to learn are quite competitive, decided we should wager dinner over the game. Girls against guys.

Note: You are probably wondering how the guys could justify potentially making us pay for our dinner on a date. The answer is not that they are selfish pigs who think chivalry is dead. In fact, both were raised to be borderline old-fashioned in their respect for the more delicate sex. The truth is that somewhere along the way there was a miscommunication and they didn't think this was a date. At least not in the paired up, double couple sort of event. To them, it was more of a balanced group activity. We were simply "hanging out." To this day, Jeff and I always miss the "Where was your first date?" question in games and end up arguing over this unresolved discrepancy.

Back to bowling...

Jeff programmed our names into the computer, and my roommate stood up for the first frame. She lifted the ball up and then swung it forward in somewhat of a fluid arc. The ball slowly rolled down the center of the lane and hit the first pin. Three, four... eight, nine pins! Not bad, I thought. Furthermore, she knocked down the extra pin with her second ball. I wanted to celebrate the "team's" victory, but I was worried she was going to make me look even worse.

My turn. I grabbed my 8 lb. ball (with large finger holes--I made sure of that) and stepped up to the lane. Holding my breath, I swung the ball back and forward and let go. I turned around carelessly as though it didn't matter one way or another what happened at the other end of the lane. Only when my roommate started cheering did I glance back at the damage.

At first I thought I was looking at the wrong lane. Where did all the pins go? Is there some mistake? Unless... it couldn't be... did I just...? No way! Wow, well, THAT was lucky. I'd better act humble because I'll look really silly when I don't get a single other point the entire game.

But I DID. I was amazing! And my roommate was on fire! We each independently bowled the best games of our lives. That alone would have made the competition pretty stiff. But someone from above was on our side that night because as much as we girls were above our usual skill set the guys were below. It was as though we had sucked all the luck and ability out of the room and all that was left was weak incompetency. Needless to say, we did NOT have to buy dinner come the end of the game.

Leaving the bowling alley, I could tell we had crushed some serious pride. We tried not to rub it in too much, but I was positively beaming with victory. I beamed as we walked to the car. I beamed as we drove to Little Caesars. And I beamed as we returned to the guys' apartment to eat our hard earned pizza.

After dinner we started watching Meet Joe Black, which I would learn held a revered place over other movies in their apartment. (Something about how it is the perfect movie to make girls all mushy and seducible. I didn't realize guys had a carefully selected menu of movies to choose from depending on the desired outcome, but this was just the first of many things I would learn about guys from Jeff.) To this point, we'd been very casual in our associations. By teaming up by gender instead of dates and then getting pizza for dinner instead of a restaurant where boy A would buy girl A's dinner, we'd avoided having to distinguish who was whose date. But as the movie started, I consciously chose the spot next to Jeff on the sofa.

In my opinion, sitting so close to Jeff was a forward move on my part, so I sat back and let him do the rest of the moving. And move he did. By the time Joe had formed his devilish agreement with Bill Parrish, our arms were cozy and warm as they shared body heat from each other. His body language was telling me he had forgiven me for creaming him in bowling. We spent the remainder of the movie sitting just close enough to send innocent signals, but never crossing the invisible line that created the seam between our two bodies.

As the credits started rolling, my roommate, who hadn't found quite the same connection that I had, jumped up and announced it was time to leave. I reluctantly left my spot on the sofa and followed her out the door. Before I left, I gave one last flirtatious smile to seal the deal. Then I shut the door behind me and braced myself against the cold... and the onslaught of inquiries from my observant roommate as we walked home. It had been a good night.