Chapter
Three
Rule #2: Go to friends for possible dates.
Having a friend introduce you to someone they know can be a great and safe
alternative.
Let me start by
saying Sheila does not do set-ups of any kind. Don’t frame me. I don’t want to
be your fall guy. I don’t want to be the butt of your joke. And I really, really
don’t want to be hooked up with one of your friends you claim is a great catch,
but who you really want to pair me up with just because of one of the
following: he is male, he is also black, he is also an attorney, he too wants
to get married, you want a couple friend to hang out with and/or he has a car.
My answer to that is, boo, I’m not going. You gotta come better than that.
But alas,
the darn rules say give it a shot,
and this gal was single and sort of ready to mingle. So when
Greg said he actually had someone for me, well, I said sure. I figure, birds of
a feather flock together,
so surely this guy would at least be cute and successful like Greg.
So here it was,
Friday night,
and I was getting gorgeous in my Bethesda, Maryland condo for my blind date
with Kevin. We were going out to dinner and a movie. The usual first date
activity. I played it casual but sexy in my tight,
dark jeans with black sling-back
heels and a black
silk wrap
blouse. My hair was in a low bun and long,
dangling gold earrings accentuated my face. I applied shimmer-gold
eye shadow, mascara, pressed powder, and M.A.C. red lip- gloss
expertly. I sprayed on my favorite floral perfume,
and then examined myself in the mirror. Watch out, Kevin!
I continued my
primping until I heard the doorbell ring. I glanced
over at my clock. Seven
o’clock on the dot. If that
was Kevin, I was liking him already.
I sauntered to the
door and swung it open. A smile touched my face as I saw an ebony vision standing
before me. This had to be Kevin. He was tall. About 6’3”.
Slender. Dark-brown
eyes and short black hair. Clean-cut
with a mahogany complexion. He wore a pair of jeans with a blue collared shirt
that fit him right. A dark,
fitted jacket hugged his upper body. He had to be no older than 30. And I …
was… in … love.
“Hi, I’m Kevin,
Greg’s friend,” he said,
extending a hand.
I went to shake it.
“I’m Sheila,” I whispered.
“Greg was right.
You are beautiful,” he replied,
and then turned my hand to kiss it lightly.
Well,
all right. Greg so far would be getting my praises from now on.
“Shall we?” he
asked, extending his elbow for me to hook on to.
I had my purse in
hand, hooked my arm to his, and left.
This was going to
be a wonderful night.
* * *
Kevin took me to a
movie. Some adventure/comedy. I spent half the time sneaking looks at him. I
was in heaven sitting next to every woman’s dream, inhaling his masculine
cologne.
He then took me to
an Italian restaurant in Georgetown,
where we talked about any and everything. I found out he was a computer
engineer for the federal government and originally from New York. Had two
siblings, parents were still together. Had his own house. Loved the Lord. Was world-traveled.
I was practically salivating,
and it was not for the delicious-looking
food put in front of us. This man had it all. And I wanted it. I wondered if he
would mind being called James for one evening.
“What’s
your take on relationships and love?” I asked, twirling my fork
around the angel hair pasta on my plate. I wanted to know everything about him,
down to boxers or briefs.
Kevin took a sip of
his wine and looked above my head. He was going to answer this like a true
politician. I could wait.
“Well,” he began.
He put a bite of food in his mouth and chewed. Damn, was my question that hard
to answer? He finished chewing. “I think love is a good thing.”
It took him all
that long just to say that? Oh, no, there had to be more. I continued to stare
at him quietly.
He sensed that that
answer would not suffice and then sighed. “I guess Greg didn’t tell you.”
I raised an
eyebrow, getting nervous.
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