I wasn't sure how I felt about this. On one hand, woo! Kissing! On the other hand the last person I had kissed was my husband. The notion of the first post-John kiss was fraught with symbolic meaning about moving on, forging ahead, and creating a new happiness for myself. I felt like I should take things very, very slowly and make sure that the first kiss was perfect: with just the right person under just the right circumstances. I even prepared a little speech in my head to deliver to Mr. Coffee lest he try to kiss me. It went something like this:
I really like you and I would really like to kiss you but I don't want to rush into anything because the last person that I kissed was my late husband and I didn't think I'd ever be kissing anyone else ever again and I'm still getting used to this dating idea and I just feel like I need to make sure that I'm really, really ready and that you're really, really the right person and that it's really, really what I want and that you understand that it's going to bring up a lot of emotional stuff for me and that you're OK with that.
Talk about a mood killer! Jeepers. And not only that, but talk about setting myself up for failure/disappointment!
Thankfully, I came to my senses and realized that I need not turn a potential kiss into a Big Fucking Deal. It had become clear to me over the past few weeks that at some point, I was going to kiss a guy who was not my husband. Yes, it felt odd and yes it brought up a lot of emotions for me, but it was going to happen, and once it did, I could figure out how it made me feel and deal with it from there.
There was no sense in trying to make it Perfect. Instead, I focused on the first part of my little speech: I really like you and I would really like to kiss you. All right then! What more could I ask for?
So off to my date I went. And it was lovely and romantic and when we sat down on a bench overlooking the river, I knew The Moment had come. Did I like him? Yes. Did I want to kiss him? Yes. Was I nervous? HELL YES.
And then he kissed me, and this is what I thought: OMG, KISSING IS AWESOME.
It didn't feel weird. It didn't feel sad or bittersweet or any of the other things I had worried it might. It just felt right. And awesome.
There are plenty of other things to share about the date. Like the fact that I had to have my babysitter (a 20-something, level-headed, grad-school bound woman) help me choose my outfit. (Me: "Is this shirt sexy, or slutty? I just can't tell anymore.") Like the fact that Maddie, Riley, and I had Family Pedicure Time in the afternoon in preparation. Like the fact that Mr. Coffe and I traded crazy African driving stories. That he clearly thinks the sun rises and sets for his daughters. That the sleeves on his shirt were too long, which made him look like a little kid. That he's actually a little shy. That we never ran out of things to say. That we're good on sharing ice cream: chocolate and mint, baby.
That his final question for me was, "When can I see you again?" and that my answer was, "As soon as possible."