A Beautiful Girl from Minnesota
Five years ago yesterday, I ambled nervously into Mathews Hall and held out my sweaty palm to beautiful girl from Minnesota.
She took it without hesitation and we then walked down the stairs and out into the winter air towards my car.
In a desperate, mentally-rehearsed act of chivalry, I opened my rusting passenger door. She shot me a gracious smile, tilted her head, tucked her hair behind her ear and gently seated herself in my stale SUV.
The cold door clicked shut. My heart melted.
I performed another successful door-holding at the theater. I went to the ticket counter, took a deep breath, and squeaked: "T-t-two for Walk the Line, p-please."
I stared at the screen but didn't watch the movie.
We held hands. Mine perspired throughout the entire evening, but she didn't seem to mind.
This was our first date. It was her idea.