Chapter One

As I landed in Orange County on the 4th of July, after nearly a month of being gone or having company, I texted Zach* from Beer Olympics (as I had saved him in my phone) to see if he still wanted to go out. I half expected him to not even reply as he hadn't heard from me in several weeks; Not since our texting exchange about my severe dislike for LeBron James, and consequently the Miami Heat, during the final game of the NBA playoffs that I happened to be watching in an airport bar.

But he responded with an emphatic "Hells yes! What are you doing tonight?"  

I took this to mean that my three week absence had indeed made his heart grow founder. 

We decided to meet up on Friday at a restaurant across the street from my house that makes a pretty delicious bourbon cocktail. He clearly knows the way to a Kentucky Girl's heart. 

Zach worked late so he didn't get to my house until almost 9:00. 

This worked out for me though, because as usual I was running late as well. 

And completely freaking out over what to wear.

I texted Courtney and Allison no less than 15 times apiece asking if a sheer-ish top was too slutty for a first date?
Could I wear these pants with that top?
Or did the shorts look better?
Should I wear my hair up?
If I curled it would I be working too hard to look nice?
Wedges or heels?

The whole thing passed ridiculous like it was standing still about 5 texts in, and just became insane nonsense.

But the kind of insane nonsense you go through when there is a spark you never expected, and can't quite explain. 

The kind of spark that gives you hope that maybe, just maybe, this date won't force you to invent a roommate with a penchant for rear-ending people in order to escape. 

Looking back on that frenzied two hours of date prep time is kind of hilarious, because I couldn't even really remember what Zach looked like. Granted, when we met it was in a sparsely lit back yard, I'd made about 20 new friends that day who were all kind of blending together, and I might have been wearing beer goggles... 

So that isn't all too surprising that my memory was cloudy.

It is like the quote from Maya Angelou, "...people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." In this instance, I might also add, "People will also forget what you look like, except for your amazingly curly hair." Which was pretty much all that was set in stone about Zach.

So Zach arrives, and I thankfully I finally decided on what to wear, how to do my hair, and which purse to carry so he wasn't left standing outside my building for 20 minutes. If I still lived with 30 other women like I did in college this process might have gone quicker. At least I could have talked while I put in hair rollers about the pros and cons of each outfit. 

We strolled across the street to Chapter One and settled in with the beverage list.

"Have you had their Moscow Mule?" Zach asked?

"No. I always stick with bourbon. But it wouldn't kill me to branch out. Have you been here?"

"Yeah. A couple of times. The Moscow Mule is great." He replied.

Really... You come hang out in my neighborhood. That is a plus. Most people think this area is scary and full of hipsters so they avoid it. One point for having good taste in where you hang out!

As we waited for our drinks we chatted easily about Kentucky (he is planning a trip for September- WHAT?!?!), the UK Wildcats, work, families, little sisters and big sisters, the ridiculous fun of Beer Olympics, and loads of other stupid stuff that I'll never remember we even talked about on this date, but that meld together to become the bits and pieces of someone you know. 

When our conversation became a shouting match with the DJ, we headed back to my house for some moonshine. After all, that was what sparked our conversation at Beer Olympics. After an hour or so of drinking moonshine and playing earthquake with Sprinkles, my cat, Zach said he should leave so I could get some rest before my hike the next day. I walked him to the door, gave him a hug, and he kissed my cheek. 

Sigh... Perfect.

It was a great first date. 

*Zach used to be Mark in the blog, but due to an inside joke, I can't keep using the name Mark.