I had such a fun birthday today. I'm 16! Yesterday in my Calculus class (the one that I'm secretary for), Mrs. Busboom brought cookies for my b-day (a day early 'cause I wouldn't be in school the next day) and they sang happy birthday to me--real loud so 5 other classes could hear just to tease me--so the one across the hall with a few of my friends in it came over and sang to me too. It was funny.
This morning our choir sang at a festival at UNR (University Nevada Reno), so we missed school all day.
I had my first date when I got home, with Dad. He took me to Stockman's for dinner, it was really nice. We were going to go to Reno for our date, but I didn't feel like it, 'cause that's where I just got back from. I wore a pretty white rose corsage that he gave me. Then we had my family party at home when Dad and I got back.
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It finally arrived, that magical extra special day whose best gift to me was the number sixteen itself. This was the most anticipated age of my life thus far. Sixteen granted me permission for "like-a-dates," group dates, one-on-one dates... just about every-kind-under-the-sun dates! Let the dates begin!
I was a fortunate beginner dater--I got to have my first date right smack dab on my birthday itself. The lucky gentleman was my dad, and this special event had been on our calendar for years. He may have even planned this before I was born.
Daddy-daughter dates weren't new to me. The first date I remember with Dad was when I was eight years old, and we had another when I was twelve. This date on my sixteenth birthday was certainly the bet one yet, but let me take you back eight years to show you how good my dad was at making his daughter feel loved.
The musical "Annie" starring Aileen Quinn was in the movie theaters, and Dad decided to take me out to see it. What a luxury! I can count on one hand--and maybe even on two fingers-- the number of times I saw a movie in the theater when I was a kid. But Dad knew this movie character of Annie and I could have a unique connection, almost like Mulan and her reflection. Annie and I were the same age (give or take), we both had curly red hair, a face covered in freckles, and we both knew that singing in the spotlight was the best way to spread the sunshine from our souls. Annie and I were meant to come together, and Dad honored me with that exhilarating musical movie experience.
Dad sweetened the evening by splurging on some treats. At the movie he let me choose whichever candy I wanted, so I chose Sugar Babies, and he chose a Sugar Daddy. Even better than the movie treat, he took me to a donut shop. I can't remember if that was actually before or after the movie, but that place was amazing. I felt like I was in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory when he told me I could pick out any donut I wanted.
"Any donut I want? In the whole store?" I asked, incredulously.
"Yes, any donut you want, in the whole store," he answered.
"Could I even choose that one?" I asked, pointing to the most glorious donut I had ever seen.
"You sure can!" he said.
"Okay, I would like one of those, please," I told the donut shop lady, still hardly believing my eyes. And the donut shop lady served her elated Annie look-alike customer that large glazed donut with chocolate frosting, mountains of whipped cream, and a cherry on top. It looked and tasted like a dream come true. Did a father ever love a daughter more than mine loved me? I thought not.
Fast forward eight years, and Dad was about to make another historical date memory for me. Not only did he want to show me how much he loved me, but out of his duty as my father, he was determined to help me start my dating journey off on the right foot. This was to be a date by which I could measure the worthiness of all future dates. Or at least serve as an intro to "proper dating etiquette," which sounded perfectly fascinating (and exciting) to me!
I had come home from my school choir trip exhausted, but I knew this night was going to be special, so I did my best to fix myself up. I chose my favorite forest green sweater, paired it with cream colored pants (because we all know it wouldn't be right to wear jeans), and wore my hair up in an elegant french twist. A beautiful white rose corsage pinned to my sweater completed the outfit. Thanks, Dad!
Dad spiffed himself up in a traditional Western way, with a white button-up short-sleeved shirt completed with his favorite bolo tie, and surely his best cowboy boots. (In my hometown of Fallon, Nevada, any Fallonite would agree that you don't have to be a cowboy to dress like one--even military men like my dad could pull off that style).
Dad chose the nicest restaurant we had in our small country town, it was called Stockman's. Dad called ahead and made reservations for two. We entered through the casino (Nevadans don't think twice about this), and found our way to what looked like the reception area of the restaurant. The cashier acted confused when we told her our names and announced that we had reservations, but led us back and seated us in a booth nearby.
Something wasn't quite right. Where was our server? Why did this "fanciest restaurant in town" resemble the plain old diner next door? After a few minutes of sitting and waiting and not being served, we realized that we had gone to the wrong place. We got up and asked an employee to help us find the real fancy restaurant part of Stockman's, and eventually we were led around to the back of the building where the real fancy dates took place.
We walked in and both let out a sigh of relief--this was so much better! The lights were low, soft music played, centerpieces adorned the tables, polite and formal waiters glided silently through the room, and we were seated with respect. Indeed, Dad knew how to pick 'em.
"You'll allow your date to order for you" he told me. (Really? Hmmm... I took all of his protocol advice as gospel, even though I'm pretty sure 99.9% of my future dates were oblivious to these prescribed manners).
After Dad helped me understand what some of the elaborate menu items were, I let him order for me: Chicken Cordon Bleu (mmm...delicious). Even though I may rarely see the opportunity to order this often, if ever I see it on a menu, I am happily taken back to my sixteenth birthday.
Dad was the perfect gentleman. He helped me with my chair in the beginning, he paid for our meal at the end. We had some laughs, we had some dessert (which might have even had a birthday candle on top), and the fancy restaurant dinner date was just about complete.
On our way out, I remember one final sweet moment. You know how some restaurants put a dish of mints for you to grab after your meal? Stockman's had some of those yummy thin cookie sticks dipped in chocolate, and he grabbed a couple for each of us.
"Are we allowed to take these?" I asked, unsure.
"You bet, that's what they're here for." Dad just seemed to know everything about dates!
He was able to throw in a couple more gentlemanly gestures such as opening and closing my car door for me, and as he drove me home, offered a few final words of counsel about the dos and don'ts of dating.
One thing's for sure: if every date were as special and full of love as my very first real date, with Dad, people would probably not take so long to find the right person to marry.
8 comments:
I love the detail in the first part of this account, but then it just ends...I need some more info about the date and what you talked about and how it ended and what happened on the way home and did he open the doors for you...and all of that. If this is the measuring stick by which all other dates would be measured, I need some more marks on the stick. :)
Heidi, thanks so much for the input! I've gone back and added a few more elements to the end of the story, so hopefully now it will leave you a little less detail-hungry. I really appreciate it!
It's interesting to see what details are clear in my memory, and which ones I really have to dig to find...
Well, no wonder I married your dad. He really knew how to treat a girl! That was a fun story.
I thought that this one would be more grownup-y, but it wasn't.I liked it. that was a good story!
Exactly as I remembered it, but you forgot to say how pretty you were that night.
Have I mentioned how you're getting better at writing? I may have, but in case I haven't, I have this to say: you're getting better at writing. Your stories are flowing nicely and they tie in great details. I never feel like you're tooting your own horn, but, rather, that you're inviting the reader into your world, and that it's a fun world to visit :) Keep up the good work!
I agree with blogster that you're getting better. It could be a good thing to go back and read some of your old writings just so you can see your own improvement- see what things you might not do now that you did then.
I like exaggeration in writing. You did a good job with the imagery using exaggeration with the Willy Wonka part. Rather than just saying it was so cool you could hardly stand it, you made it even bigger than that. Well done.
What a nice daddy! You are a lucky girl. He made the competition look bad. :)
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