Thursday, January 27, 2011

The Rollerblading Date

It was during my last summer at college.  I think partly due to the fact that I had ZERO dates in my last four semesters of college (well, there was the one, but it was a date auction...and I was the winning bid), my brother set me up on a blind date.

His name was Bruce, and he was very tall, and thin, and about seven years older than I was.  He was currently working for the college, and was a "student professor" I believe.  Anyway, I had nothing to lose, so I went on the blind date.  Actually, can't remember what that particular date consisted of.  I only remember subsequent dates.

I hung out at his house one Sunday afternoon, as he and his friends gathered together to watch a game on tv.  Basketball, football, hula hooping...I don't remember.  I only remember I had made an apple crisp to share with everyone, and that Bruce pretty much ignored me the entire time.

We had another date, after that.  He invited me to go rollerblading around his neighborhood with him.  I had never rollerbladed before, but I had spent many happy hours as a child, cruising around roller rinks, grooving to the tunes and disco-ing under the mirror ball, outfitted in my groovy rollerskates.  No problem.  I got this.

I think I borrowed rollerblades from my bestie, and roommate, Bethany...but I can't be sure.  For some reason, details escape me, when pertaining to Bruce.  I wonder if he cast a spell over me.

Hmmm.  Anyway, we had our date.  Bruce drove me to an empty church parking lot that was close to his house.  He told me that it was a perfect place to practice, without worrying about cars.  I agreed that he was brilliant in his thinking.

While still sitting in the seat of the car, Bruce watched as I clipped up the rollerblades.  He managed to help me stand up, and then he took off around the parking lot, in a whirl of glorious twists and arcs, stopping and starting with ease.  If I hadn't been clutching the door of the car, I might have swooned.

"Come on.  Now it's your turn", he urged.

Willing to do just about whatever he asked, at that point, I let go of my death grip, and took a few tentative rolls forward.  I was more unstable than a baby learning to walk.

Encouraged by Bruce, I began to make enough progress that I could go about ten yards without falling.  Itching for some new scenery, Bruce suggested we head out on the neighborhood road, and "ride for a few blocks". 

Ready to follow him to the moon and back, I agreed.  We set off, but it was quickly apparent how unstable I was, so in desperation of not falling, I grabbed his hand.  Seeing that I was much more stable, I kept my grip on his hand, completely blinded by the fact that the hand holding was not reciprocated. 

As I was dreamily keeping pace with Bruce, and holding his hand, we continued making small talk.  This was going great!  About a minute went by, then my bubble burst.

"Uh, can you let go of my hand, now?"  Bruce said.

"What?  Oh, yeah...sure.  Sorry."  I immediately began to wobble, filled with a combination of rejection and uncoordination.

I fell to the ground.

Bruce helped me up, and amazingly enough, I made it back to the car without another fall.

He took me home.

I never saw him again.

Thus ends my short love affair with a college professor.


Julia said...

Great story ! Thanks for sharing! I think of your beautiful family often. I hope you are settling into your new home and making friends, etc.... I hope that house is becoming a home to you.

Bek Bek Bek Bekah said...

That is a fun story. The rollerblading date must have been a short one at that. I am glad that Heath was the one to capture you and not this professor.

purejoy said...

oh my. to me no story with the word "rollerblade" has a happy ending. i went rollerblading with the hubs in california. we were fine on venice beach until he suggested we do some "off roading" or heading off on to the city streets toward a sportsbar where we could watch our favorite football team play a bitter rival. after hugging street signs, making out with mail boxes and assaulting anything nailed down, i wobbled and struggled for another city block… all the while watching people screaming to get out of the way in time. one last lurch… arms flailing and boom. i fell. insert skate into bum. yeeowch. tried like heck to break my fall with my hand. only resulted in breaking my arm. nice. {and my bum… bruised the most incredible black EVER.}
worst part? sitting on said bruised bum the next day. six hours on a flight from california to home. broken arm. no pain meds because i was PREGNANT. on rollerblades.
i guess my rollerblade story had a happy ending. i had a healthy baby girl 34 weeks later.

The Girls' Mom said...

I don't even remember this! but I do remember rollerblading often even though it really wasn't that fun ;)