Our first date

So the Hubster and I can't remember our official first date.  Is that bad?  I guess the good news is we both forget, right? 

We did date fast and furiously though.  I saw him every single day for six months (when he went away for a vacation with his friends).  Considering he was in a vigorous training program with the military at the time, and I was working a job with some pretty demanding hours, that was pretty impressive.  I have no doubt we were each other's escape into serenity.  So he probably wouldn't have use the word serenity but whatever.

The night we met I learned he drove a motorcycle.  I love motorcycles.  My dad had one when I was growing up.  Uncles.  Friends.  Ex-boyfriends (heh).  I'd considered myself a pro.  On Harleys.  Yes.  I was a Harley-snob. 

The Hubster had a crotch-rocket.  I knew it was a matter of time before I had to ride it.  And I was not looking forward to it.  Ok, well maybe a little bit.  You know, the having to hold on really tight part.

So one night, probably a couple days after we met, the Hubster invited me to meet some friends down at the beach.  Sold.  I drove down, we hung out a bit at a local restaurant and then decided to go to another place.  And of course the Hubster wanted me to go with him.  On his bike. 

He knew I was ridiculously nervous.  I knew that he was a fantastic rider.  I knew he had taken safety courses.  I knew he was careful (when he wanted to be).  He had the second helmet with him (sneaky sneaky) so I was out of excuses.

I got on and held tight.  Obviously we made it in one piece.  He drove the speed limit.  He didn't do anything crazy.  And I think I fell in love with him just a little bit when he reached back, rubbed my leg, just to kind of make sure I was doing ok. 

When he drove me back to my car that night it was the first night he kissed me.  And man was it worth the wait.