The first date I was mainly the decision maker. I happily assumed the role as she is my well-kept curvy unicorn. Blunder #1 was following Google Maps and not instinct. I arrived a few past my texted ETA and left her to wait on the curb on a humid Seattle afternoon. She insisted she had not been waiting long. I rolled up, timing the descension of the passenger window and yelled, “Are you waiting for a Lyft?” My humor elicted a smile and confirmation I had been forgiven. She gracefully entered and as she sat, our eyes met unerringly.
We chatted at random. I let her ramble as I remained focused behind the wheel. Her beauty and scent was distracting enough, in fact, wheel sensors saved us merging into a bigger hunk of metal.
The Parking God was with us, we huffed and puffed for a short city block granted uphill, yet manageable.
Food was first on the agenda. We strutted rather gayly to Bakery Nouveau. I got sidetracked by the macaroons meanwhile she ordered turkey havarti on a big ass baguette. I ordered the birthday cake and lavender fluffy French creme puff thingies.
Her mourning coffee 