Music in the Car

Something about her caught my imagination. She looked like more of a fantasy girl than a real girl. And yes, she was a bit younger than me, but I’d already hurdled those objections by the time she suggests meeting over dinner. “Not a date,” she laughs. A smile that captured me on FB was even more magnetic on Zoom. “Sounds good.”

The first non-date went great until the very end. We drove around after an alcohol-free dinner listening to U2 with the windows rolled down and her golden, Azimov, in the back seat. He seemed to be grooving too. The windows were down. The weather was perfect. And after a few songs, we held hands and cruised past my soon-to-be new house. It was a perfect night.

At the wrap, I got out and walked her to her car. At that critical moment, I moved in for a hug and a peck. There was a moment of panic in her attitude. It was a tense hug. Nothing doing. Nope. Deflating prospects for any future development. But… her beauty didn’t release me on the way home.

We met a few more times over the course of the next two weeks. I would text her and bring coffee to her house. (I do brew a mean cup of joe.) At first, she was guarded, “Thanks so much. Yum. Delicious.” And I would go on about my day leaving her and the dog to contemplate life without me.

One morning, at the coffee handoff she asked if I wanted to go for a walk with her and Az. We chatted and crossed a few busy streets and then we were in a park and she let Azimov off the leash. She showed herself to be quite a sprite. She ran and jumped and harassed her big golden retriever. I was falling. But for what?

Not Asimov.
Back in her house that morning, she changed the game.

I’ve never experienced such an intoxicating kiss.

The hook was set. I was in. I was even more enthusiastic about the coffee mornings. When her kid’s schedule rotated back to her ex we made another date for the coming Saturday night.

Of course, I want to show you a picture. You’d understand.