The First Date

Eight years ago today, Super-Hubby and I were out on our first date. I had been pursuing him for nearly a year, and finally convinced him to go to the movies with me "as friends." He was skittish around girls, the result of a gorgeous red head breaking his heart the year before.

We decided to go to see Good Will Hunting, which had just been released. Unfortunately, the 7 pm show was sold out, so we hung around in a Borders and drank lattes and discussed philosophy until the 9:30 show started. But that was sold out, too. We ended up seeing As Good As It Gets, a movie that neither of us knew much about.

Just before the movie, I went to the snack counter and purchased a large (a very large) Coke. These were the days before stadium seating; the theater we were in had only one aisle and it was all the way to the left of the theater. We were seated up against the right wall, with about 20 seat in between us and the aisle. And all the seats were full of people.

Like I said, I knew nothing about this movie, least of all that it was really, really long. So I polished off my 128 oz. soda about an hour into the show. And realized I really needed to go to the bathroom. But I didn't want to interrupt all those people's viewing in order to get to the aisle. So, I could hold it, I thought.

Then came the scene where Jack Nicholson uses about 20 bars of soap to wash his hands, and leaves the water running the whole time. I thought I was going to die.

To take my mind off my bladder, I had been trying to get Super-Hubby to hold my hand throughout the movie. I would lean in just a little towards him, and he would lean away. Every time.

Finally, about 10 minutes before the movie was over, we ended up holding hands. That was nice, but ohmygodi'vegottopee.

As the credits were rolling I shot out of the theater, barely even speaking to Super-Hubby in my quest for a ladies' room. I stood in line and did the potty dance until I could get to a stall.

It's amazing we had a second date, come to think of it.