True Confessions, Part Deux

I was not as enthused about the date as I thought I might be. And I was clearly not as enthused as my daughter, who would be living vicariously through me.

But I believed in possibility.

The truth is, I'd grown up 8 doors away from Casey and at the ripe old age of 12 and a half, I'd had a crush on him. And he had had one on me. We'd hold hands while the sibs ran and hid during games of Ghost in the Graveyard Run Run Run. At least we did until he decided he liked slutty Dorleen Muckler better. She and her skittish sister Barb joined our games of Ghost in the Graveyard one summer and then Dorleen and Casey stopped coming out of the bushes when we were all supposed to be run run running. (Note - Dorleen is now the size and shape of an NFL linebacker and Barb is covered from her clavicle to her little fallen arches with tattoos.)

Maybe there would be something there after all this time. And if not, we'd have a few laughs. We had lots of history to rehash from the safe distance of adulthood.

We made plans for dinner. A BYOB (my idea) of his choosing, and I offered to buy the wine (because if it turned out to be a bad date, I didn't want to be drinking inferior wine, too.)

But from the beginning it was headed in the wrong direction. Only I couldn't quite place how.

We exchanged texts. Not too many - just enough. But something about them wasn't right. They were too familiar.

Sort of icky.

Like we were already a couple.
Established.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Bucko.

We talked on the phone fairly reliably but it wasn't like I couldn't wait to talk to him or anxiously awaited his call. I could take it or leave it. There was no urgency. But again, there was a weird familiarity. He didn't feel the need to identify himself when he called. (Is he kidding? As if I'm picking up the phone thinking, "Of course it's Casey! Who else would be calling me?") and if I was the one who'd dialed, he wanted me to understand that he knew it was me without my saying my name. (I know there is caller ID but there is also such a thing as etiquette. And not being too self absorbed to demonstrate a little etiquette is a pretty basic courtesy) Yet, when we did speak, I ended up enjoying myself.

But something about this assumed coupledom bothered me. I couldn't quite place it.

Even as I cleaned my house to make it visitor-ready and planned a perfect first date outfit, I was beginning to regret having made plans with Casey at all.