We agreed to meet for dinner on Monday at 7:00p. I thought that Little Spoon had just called in sick that day because she didn't feel like going in to work that day; only much later did I realize that she was actually not feeling well. Perhaps that belief was partly due to the fact that she looked gorgeous when I saw her sitting outside the restaurant. I remember thinking that she looked even better than her pictures, and apparently my dumbstruckness registered briefly on my face, though Little Spoon didn't know what my initial reaction was about until we reminisced about that night months later.
The odd look quickly passed from my face, and I walked up to her. I don't remember the awkwardness of the first contact that she does, but knowing me and the ambiguity I always felt about hugging/handshaking/not doing anything on first meeting a woman, it doesn't surprise me. We talked easily enough throughout dinner. The bulk of the conversation I remember from that part of the date surrounded our past relationships and the size of her family. My family is the ultimate tritium nuclear family (with me as the proton and my parents as the neutrons), whereas hers is like some sort of complex radioactive chain reaction of large groups. Yes, I know that one is typically not supposed to talk relationship history on the first date. Yes, it felt natural to both of us to continue that topic of conversation - which was a good sign that rule could be broken safely.
After dinner (around 9:30p), I knew that I didn't want the night to end yet, but I also hadn't had any nice, unambiguous signals that she was interested (or disinterested) in physical contact. Fortunately, as we exited the restaurant, Mother Nature provided me with a helpful, stiff breeze that penetrated her relatively wispy white coat and gave me the perfect excuse to put my arm around her waist and rub her back. I believe I drove us over to Cafe Coco a few blocks away. We talked a good amount about music (I remember her showing me her phone's ability to return a song title and artist from a brief sample of the ambient atmosphere). I also worked my hand surreptitiously closer to hers and toward her leg, and she seemed to welcome the advance.
We left Cafe Coco at around 1:00a, but we weren't finished talking. We kept up our dialog in my car until 3:00a, our hands intertwining and breaking naturally every so often. I remember remarking a couple of times that we should really go home, but neither of us seemed to be able to break away. We energized each other, and it was clear that we couldn't get enough of each other. Finally, we realized we had to get some semblance of sleep to function the next day. She confirmed my invitation to a Halloween party that her friend was throwing on Friday, but I was still scheming to think of ways to see her before then as we drove out of the Tangredi's parking lot...