It was a normal summer day. I was dating a girl. Not the "Zack Oates THINKS we dated" Facebook group sort of way, but like for reals.
We sent a few benign texts back and forth about a couple of funny occurrences that day and then decided to meet at a pizza shop for dinner at 8pm.
My departure time of 7:45 seemed to stretch on endlessly into the ticks of the library clock. Finally, our date had begun.
I got there early to make sure we have a table and so that she didn't have to wait in the lobby alone.
We sat down and got a pie (pepperoni, not pumpkin...I'm from Jersey) to share with a couple of root beers. We talked, laughed, held hands over the table, played footsies under the table, learned about our waiter's new son (and yes, it did work and he got extra tip...exploiter) and smiled at each other in silence.
Then we went back to her apartment and I helped her with homework (or rather sat there while she did it) until about 11:30 when she walked me to my car and was in bed by midnight.
That was it.
The best date I ever had.
Pizza. Homework. Done.
I've spent hundreds of dollars on a single date, had an evening listening to Boys 2 Men on the beaches of Italy, planned for weeks...but really, in the end, it's the company that makes a party. No trying, no games no calculation...just the right company.
One thing that I DO know about love is this: no matter how terrible things are going in life, if you have someone whom you love that loves you, deep down you know that everything will be okay.
The best date ever isn't about the DATE at all, it is about YOUR date.