Random Memory

I just read Cherie's most recent post about her daughter getting asked out on her first date. The similarities between that and my first date were striking, and it brought back the hilarious memory, clear as day.

I was twelve years old, and in grade seven. I had developed the biggest crush on The Boy over the fall. In my pre-teen-ness, I flirted with him in the wierdest ways. There was something about a neon orange hat that he had, but it was mine, or I had found it or something. The hat wasn't so much the issue as the fact that it gave me an excuse to chase him around the playground trying to get it back. This carried on for a few days - he'd taunt me with the hat (oh, he liked getting chased by a girl!) and I'd run after him. Eventually, he shoved it down the storm drain at the corner of the school (sorry, fishies!). I feigned indignation, upset at the fact I no longer had a reason to chase him.

The school was putting on "A Christmas Carol" for our big musical that December. The Boy had been cast as Scrooge. Some time in December I had developed a brilliant excuse to actually phone him. (I had attempted calling boys before, but without success. When I tried phoning my super-huge crush in grade 5, I froze up and never said a word. I just listened to them on the other line asking, "Hello? Is there someone there?" Oh thank goodness those were the days before call display. And Mr and Mrs C? I'm sorry!!!)

So, back to my plan... I needed to know when the dress rehearsal was for the musical. I was so proud of myself for thinking up the line, "Who'd know better than Scrooge himself???" We actually talked for a while that day, and I asked him out. I am woman, hear me roar! I might have told my parents that he asked me. For some reason, I can't quite remember that detail. Funny, that.

The Boy and I made plans for our first date. We were going to see Hook in the theaters. The only thing was, I wasn't allowed to go on a date by myself. Mom wanted me to go in a group. I protested, but to no avail. So, grudgingly, I invited my friend Sorrell to come along.

The night of the date, The Boy's dad came to pick me up. The Boy came to the door, and my dad answered. My dad now likes to tell the story of how he shook The Boy's hand that night, squeezing it way past the point of being comfortable, and said, "Hello. I'm Hillary's FATHER." He laughed and laughed and laughed. To himself, that is. Good thing I didn't know then, I would have been MORTIFIED!

Sorrell and I hopped in the car and we got dropped off at the movie theatre. I was so giddy! The three of us found our seats and settled in. I honestly don't remember if he held my hand, but I don't think he did. What I *do* remember is him making really cruel comparisons between one of the characters in the movie and one of our friends at school. Jerk. Though I laughed right along with him. That didn't deter me from liking him, either. What can I say, we were 12.

His dad dropped us off after the movie and The Boy walked me back to the door...