"I want a plain, fucking baguette"

I'm gonna be honest, one of the best things about being married is that I never again have to go on a first date. That and there's someone who takes out the trash and puts on rubber gloves to clean the shower because our shower is real rusty and we have to use this special chemical to clean it and it scares me so MC does it.

But to be really honest, I didn't even know I didn't like the first date until I was married, because I never really understood how important they were. If I had to go on one now I'd be scared poop-less plus it'd be real awkward because I'd be talking about how great my husband is ... kind of a buzz kill for guy picking up the tab I imagine.

Anyway, when I was single I was all about the first date. I'm one of the most self involved people on the planet and if I do say so myself I think I'm super interesting. I have a super cool 9-5, I've traveled, I have an interesting family and I can give you 101 reason why pleated pants on men are WRONG. (Really, it's a wonder I was still on the market at the ripe age of 25 for MC to sweep me up).

So anyway first dates were my time to shine. They were like a job interview with cocktails and baked bree — yes please!

But I never really took them that seriously. I went for the free food and booze and the chance to talk about that one time when my best friend Laura cried in Paris because she couldn't figure out how to ask for something without cheese and I wouldn't help her even though I speak French because I was so mad at her for being a picky eater. (Oh I'm laughing now just thinking of her yelling at that poor Parisian fast food worker "I want a fucking plain baguette!) Oh and if I was lucky I'd get to make out with a cute boy and then bribe my friend Manny to come and pick me up, which was code for come have some drinks on this guys tab and then drive me home because I've had one (or 12) too many.

Obviously, even though I thought I wanted to land a husband, I wasn't in the right mind set.

That is until my first date with MC. Something felt different. Something was in the air. I don't know what it was but for one night I decided not to blab about how amazing I was and I listened to him. I got a few good stories in here and there but really I was just so into the fact that he was into me, I had a hard time remembering what it was Laura doesn't like on her sandwiches and the details of my favorite English class in college. All I could think about was that "oh my God, I think I'm going to marry this guy." It's like I could see it happening.

For a swinging single who thought she had plenty of years left on the market, this was freaky. FREAKY. (What followed was three months of oh my God, I don't know ... what about all those other boys ... but this boy is perfect and then all of a sudden I wanted to get married RIGHT.NOW. — It was rough. Also P.S. I'm a complicated person.)

Anyway, despite that roller coaster, I can always look back at our first date and be all like "It was truly amazing."

MC and I talk about it all the time. I'm guessing it'll be the sort of tale that our grandkids rehearse to each other. And I love that.

(For the record we went to a local restaurant with dim lighting, a bar, and even a fire place. It was winter and nearing holiday break, which meant that we had a high chance of seeing someone from high school and then word would be out that we were on a date. I took it as a good sign that this would make me happy. He had steak, I had shrimp, there was draft beer. Every single thing about the date was perfect.)

But, see how that puts a lot of pressure on the first date??

Also I bet you're wondering why the eff I'm recounting this now being that it's not like an anniversary of that occasion or anything. It's because one of my bestest friends has a very promising first date this weekend and it got me thinking.

Given my experience with first dates, I gave her some pointers (Don't go somewhere where you stand in line to order — The line is awkward and so is the end when one person is expected to pay or you pay separately, eek; Go somewhere with at least background music; if you drink PLEASE dear God go somewhere that serves booze; pick a place with dim lighting, no fluorescent please; and if the mood is right, plant one right on his lips —no tongue).

I did and it worked for me!

But no pressure.