When I first started dating my husband, I was 17. When we got married, I was 22. I have not been on a lot of dates– much less blind dates. But that is what I imagined yesterday to be like, except we were seven people instead of two, and without what I would assume to be a lot of awkwardness about who picks up the check. In fact, I can’t recall a single moment of awkwardness. This word keeps coming back to mind as I think about what a great time I had: crescendo. It’s a musical term that means to grow in volume. When we first all sat down to dinner, tenuous conversation started mostly with Jeni as the leader, but as the dinner went on, voices chimed in more and more. ‘Hey, I think I know a mutual friend,’ said someone. ‘I love that restaurant too!’ said another. Pretty soon, we were talking over one another in a big cacophony of chatter, having side conversations, and may have- to an outside observer- appeared to be a group of old friends catching up over a wonderful meal.
It was a great first date, everyone. I would have kissed you all good night. You know, metaphorically speaking.