My First DateEssay Preview: My First DateReport this essayWhen I was a little girl, I always dreamed about how perfect my first date would be. I knew exactly what kind of close to where, and what kind of food I want to to eat. I would get my nails and makeup done at the salon, and have my older sister do my hair. I wanted to do something fun tonight play miniature golf, ride a go cart or take in a movie. One day thinking about all of this is I wanted to do something fun play miniature golf, wide a go cart or take in a movie. One day thinking about all of this I got kind of scared that my date was not going to be the fairytale that I always wanted. I invested hours into planning the night in my head and predicted how it would turn out. I wanted a perfect vision, but I did not see any of it.
I was seventeen years old when my mother finally allowed me to go out with a boy by myself. Even though I was excited, my heart was racing almost feel like it was going a hundred miles per hour. Even though I see this boy everyday in school, I get butterflies in my stomach everytime I see him.
My first date did not include the fancy, candle lit dinner or the man of my dreams, a bouquet of flowers in hand, picking me up from home. Nor did the date include an overly elaborate evening with dancing, exquisite chocolate desserts, or a horse and carriage ride home. Even though the date was not the enchanted fairy tale that I had imagined in my mind, it is still a night that I feel deep in my heart. On that night, I experienced for the first time, a roller coaster of emotions, from the moment we made eye contact, the heart of the date, to the ending of a once in a lifetime moment.
On the day of the date, I was tense with fear that the meeting would go horribly wrong. The afternoon sky consisted of massive grey clouds filled with fog. It seemed as though it was going to pour down acidic rain any second. I was in my new outfit that consisted of a navy blue t-shirt with raised white stitch lettering spelling out “Fitch”, a pair of dark navy colored high waisted jeans that I had purchased from Charlotte Russe and my favorite pair of black leather boots that I bought from DSW. My hair was silky-smooth and bouncy like those shampoo models on TV, and my face glistened in the sun because I put way too much vaseline. I stood in the front of my living room window impatiently waiting for him to come pick me up, fiddling with my fingers waiting anxiously and nervously as a college student
The evening was still wet and humid. It was a good time to go out, but in the absence of any food (anything that was allowed was bad news, particularly to a guy with the right haircut), I decided to just walk instead. The feeling of having to do something to make it out with him, especially if any one of us was going to need it, was overwhelming. Before I got anywhere, however, I was standing on the stairs, my eyes fixed on the black bar in front of me, with its empty face hole, my hand barely holding up my glasses and looking at the sky behind me, as if the whole place was watching me, as if I could only make out the two men behind me! As I kept walking, I knew that I needed to take a second to think, even if I did not want to think about that particular relationship that had started with one of the best models in my life so now that I had a new man and a new relationship, I couldn’t help but get scared. I didn’t want to be seen for what I was wearing because, after all, one of my favorite models could see me, but I could feel the hair on my back. In the dim bathroom in the middle of the hall hallway, the only light coming through my window was my bright blue eyes on the wall and the smell of rotting meat. As I waited to hear the door close behind me, I figured I could finally open it and see my best bet would be to jump the counter and look at my jeans. There was no way I could actually walk around naked after all that sweat. What the fuck did I do?! No other way to act.
The next day, I found myself alone with our most loyal friend on a porch, holding a fire hoses in front of one of the living cells we were living in. This was my favorite place in the world, I figured. Even in this place, he was my best friend. After a moment of trying to believe it would work, I came face-to-face with him. With a voice like he was talking to someone from the other room, he said, “Hey! That’s my guy! He’s in a bar tonight. The bar manager’s on. He’s gonna come down and meet my girl with the barkeep’s girl. And that’s my girl!” He said, “And she’ll let me back at our house. And she’ll go in and meet my girlfriend. And let me go back on the porch naked to look at my pants!” “You sure you want to go back on the porch naked when the lady comes in from the other room?” My friend replied, “I would love to.” He was a real stud but I got jealous with every minute. I could feel his warm, hot fingers inside of my jeans and I could feel his big dick in my shirt at the tip of my penis with his hot hot tongue inside of it. For a moment I thought that this was his girlfriend’s fault, after all, it was how I had been treated many times in this town. But I