His lips curled up into a smile as he set the menu on the table in front of him and stood up. “Harper?”
“Gabe?”
We shook hands and then he stepped around me and pulled out my chair like a true gentleman.
Wow. I can’t remember the last time a guy did that, I thought. It was actually really charming. Point to Mr. Perfect Match.
“It’s really good to meet you,” he said, as he walked back to his chair and sat down.
“Good to meet you, too.” I responded with a smile.
The guy was gorgeous, so at least no matter how the evening went, I’d have something nice to look at. Given my previous hundred dates, though, my hopes were still about as low as possible.
“What can I bring you to drink?” a waiter asked, coming up to the table.
“Um, I’ll just take a water,” I said, flashing another smile. For some reason, I was nervous. I never felt nervous on dates, but this one was different.
“That’s all you want?” Gabe asked. He smiled and motioned to the menu. “You can order whatever you like.”
That’s what the last guy said and then I ended up paying for it. I shook my head and smiled. “Just water,” I repeated. “Thank you, though.”
Gabe shrugged. “I’ll take a dirty martini,” he told the waiter.
“Sounds great, sir,” replied the waiter. “I’ll be back with your drinks.”
The waiter scurried away and I shifted in my seat. The initial awkwardness of a first meeting was definitely in the air, and even though I had been on tons dates, I still couldn’t shake it. Luckily, Gabe didn’t let the silence last very long.
“So, Harper, tell me about yourself,” he said, leaning back in his chair but keeping those green eyes focused on me.
“There’s not a whole lot to tell,” I responded. “I work as a writer for a magazine. What about you?”
“I remember you said something about that.” He smiled and leaned forward. His dark hair fell across his brow, somehow making him even more attractive. “What do you write? Anything I'd recognize?”
He seemed genuinely interested, which actually made me a little nervous. Very few of my dates ever seemed this interested. I obviously couldn’t tell him about the blog I ran, since I knew later that night I’d be writing about this date and the last thing I wanted was him looking me up.
“Oh, nothing special. Just articles here and there. A little of this, a little of that. I’m freelance, so I don’t work for a specific magazine.” I shrugged, trying to play it cool and tell him enough without actively lying. “I just take the work as it comes. Sometimes I write about the latest marathon in town and other times I’ll write about football.”
“I love football,” he said, with a smile. “It’s my guilty pleasure.”
“Mine too,” I said, feeling some of my nerves fade. “Sundays are the only times that nobody can get ahold of me. My whole family knows that I won’t answer my phone if a game is on.”
Gabe laughed and leaned back in his chair. His laugh was easy and confident. It made me want to join in.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a football fan,” he said. “No offense, but you’re kind of missing the beer gut and sideburns.”
“Come on now, not every football fan is like that,” I said with a laugh. “Besides, I’m working on my sideburns. I think they're coming in quite nicely, actually.”
Any initial awkwardness was quickly vanishing. It was unusual for a first date, but nothing to write home about. Some men were just good at talking to people and I assumed that’s all it was. I started taking mental notes so that when I wrote the blog a little later, I’d have all the details I’d need to make an interesting post.
“What do you do, Gabe?” I asked.
“I am a…” he started to say, pausing as the waiter came up and delivered our drinks.
Here we go, I thought. This is where he fluffs up his position at whatever company he works for. This is where he tells me he’s a “Master of the Custodial Arts” when in reality he’s just a janitor.
“Software engineer for my own business,” he finished. He took a sip of his martini and smiled.
“So what does that entail?” I asked, hoping he'd give me something juicy to write about later. “What kind of software?”
“Oh nothing special really. A little of this, a little of that. I just take the work as it comes,” he said with a sly smile.
“Is that right?” I played with the straw in my water, swirling the ice around as I smiled. He was poking fun at me for my vague response to his similar question, but I actually liked it. This guy had a backbone and he wasn’t letting me walk all over him.
“Yeah, it’s just a job,” he responded with a shrug that made me notice just how broad his shoulders were. “Kind of boring, honestly. Unless you like typing and looking at numbers all day. It's not exactly riveting date conversation.”
“But you own your own business?” I asked, trying to remember exactly what his profile had said.
“Well, me and two other guys own the company,” he explained. “I run all the computer code and software programming for it.”
“You don’t exactly look like the 'computer nerd' type,” I said. I motioned to his perfect hair, smoking body, and confident smile.
“What, do you think we all look the same?” he responded. “I left my pocket protector and nerd glasses at home just for this date. I can run back and get them if you want.”
“How else am I supposed to believe you work on computers for a living?” I asked, laughing. “I brought a pen and paper just to prove I'm a writer.”
Gabe chuckled as he grabbed his martini and held it in the air.
“Let’s cheers. How about to new people in our lives?” he asked.
“To potential new people in our lives,” I corrected him. I wasn't quite ready to mark this date in the win category just yet. We still had a full meal to go and anything could happen, but for the first time in a long time, it looked actually possible.
We clinked our glasses and I took a sip of my water. Gabe was seriously charming, witty and beyond gorgeous. I feared that I was actually kind of enjoying myself, which was very strange for me. We chatted lightly about things, like where we grew up and how we fell into our lines of work. He was so easy to talk to that I found myself forgetting that we were on a date.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked, as the waiter approached us.
I hadn’t even looked at the menu. I had been too into our conversation.
“Um, I’ll just take an appetizer,” I said, glancing at the menu. I picked the cheapest thing I could find. “Maybe grilled asparagus or something.”
“Harper, order whatever you like,” Gabe urged, though he didn’t specifically say that he’d be picking up the tab.
“I’d rather have something light, though. I’m not super hungry.” I flashed him a grin. It wasn't a lie: butterflies had begun to flow inside of me, which had put my appetite in check.
What is this guy doing to me? I wondered. I was pretty sure that my blog had killed all the first date jitters, but apparently not.