September 17, 2022, Our first date.

It’s a miracle we made it past the first date.

Chris’s Version.

I was so nervous. I waited inside the restaurant, counting the seconds and imagining all the possible ways my first date could go wrong. Would she look like her profile pictures? Would she notice my nervous habits? Samina was shown to the table and my heart skipped. She really did look just like her photos—maybe even better. Suddenly, a wave of relief washed over me, and I grinned, half embarrassed and half amazed.

Inside, I became the world’s most awkward menu fidgeter. My fingers flipped the page back and forth, sometimes pausing on the appetizers for no reason other than to give my hands something to do. I avoided eye contact as much as possible—not out of shyness, but because I found I could concentrate better on her words if I didn’t look her directly in the eye. When I did, I started overthinking and the thoughts would sometimes drown out what I was hearing. So sometimes I looked blankly in the distance. She talked about her job. I listened intently, nodding at the right moments, despite looking outwardly. Occasionally, I’d steal a glance, just to confirm again that she hadn’t magically transformed since the last time I looked.

After dinner, we wandered around the plaza, both grateful for the chance to move and shake off some nervous energy. As we rounded the corner, we stumbled upon a quirky pumpkin photo display—an array of gourds in an autumn fall landscape.

Just then, a passerby stopped and offered, “Want me to take your picture?” We agreed. The stranger snapped a photo of the two of us sitting amid the pumpkins, my smile slightly crooked and Samina’s laugh frozen mid-giggle. Later, we’d agree it was the best photo either of us had from a first date—a memory that became more cherished as time went on.

The night wound down, and my nerves returned in full force. I agonized over how to say goodbye, wondering if a hug would be too formal or if a handshake would be too weird. In a moment of impulsive bravery, I gave Samina a quick kiss, then immediately worried I’d made her uncomfortable. “Goodnight,” I said, stumbling over my words. Samina smiled and waved, her eyes kind.

The days after our first date were a whirlwind for me. I sent Samina updates: “Sorry, caught up in final edits for a publisher.” Then, “That convention I was speaking at got canceled—total mess. A murder suspect ran into the conference hall.” Next, “I’m catering a wedding this weekend in Colorado.” (We live in Dallas, my conference was in Tulsa, and the wedding was in Colorado). and finally, “Leaving for Baltimore for another conference!” I worried she’d think I was making excuses or losing interest.

Then, I had to cancel our date upon my returned, because I contracted RSV.

Surprisingly, Samina believed me. I felt lucky—and grateful for that quirky photo, a reminder that sometimes, the best connections survive even the most nervous awkwardness and chaotic schedules.

Samina’s Version.

They say that between his version and her version, the truth usually lies somewhere in the middle. I’ll admit—I read his version first before writing mine. And to be fair, among his many talents, storytelling is definitely one of them.

But here’s how it all happened—from my side.

September 17th was a meaningful date, though not the day of our first date. It was simply the day we first connected and said hello. Our actual first date didn’t happen until three weeks later, on October 8th. Yes—three weeks.

Why 3 weeks, you ask? Well, the first weekend, he was catering a friend’s wedding in Colorado. The second was hosting an anniversary celebration for his parents. Having spent enough time in the dating world, I was skeptical. Who casually caters a wedding? Or throws a full-scale anniversary party for their parents? Still, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Over time, people show you who they are, and eventually, I would see for myself who he really was. As the events unfolded, he shared pictures along the way, and my trust began to grow—though a hint of skepticism lingered.

We finally planned to meet at Tupelo Honey at 6:45 p.m. On my way there, I got a text at 6:30 p.m. saying he had already arrived and grabbed a table on the patio. I remember thinking, Oh wow—he’s early. Punctuality is always a good sign.

I arrived on time—which, if you know me, is saying something—and walked out to the patio. There he was: handsome, well-dressed, and smiling. We eventually moved inside because of the heat, ordered appetizers, and dove straight into conversation. We discussed work, our passions, and the projects that excite us.

At the same time, I was trying to read him and get a gauge of how he thought the date was going. Was he enjoying the conversation? Did my life and story thus far spark his interest? Did he want to know more? Trying to get a read on him was difficult, as he uncomfortably kept looking down at the menu, making very little eye contact, and fidgeting constantly. His body language had me convinced he wasn’t interested… though I held on to a small sliver of hope.

After dinner, we walked around the plaza and came across a spot perfect for a photo. I suggested we take one—it was mostly a test because I wanted to see his reaction. When he agreed, I was surprised, but quickly told myself he was probably just being polite.

We kept walking, still mid-conversation, when suddenly—around 8:30 p.m.—he stopped, looked at me, and said, “This was fun, I gotta go.” Just like that. He gave me a quick hug, said “Okay, bye,” and walked off toward the parking garage.

No mention of having a great time. No hint of wanting to see me again. Not even an attempt to ease out of the conversation we were in. I walked back to my car alone, thinking, Well, he was really nice… I guess he just wasn’t interested. To me, the way the evening ended said everything. Actions speak louder than words.

When I got home, I sent what I like to call the “non-obligatory but nice” text—asking if he made it home safely. He replied that he did, that he had fun, and that we should do it again sometime. I agreed, but internally I was thinking, Yeah… right.

I tried not to dwell on it, even though I genuinely liked him and thought he was a great guy.

Then Monday evening rolled around, and I got a text: “How was your Monday?”

I was honestly surprised. I replied, “My Monday was good. I didn’t hear from you, so I didn’t think you were interested.” Probably not the smoothest response—but it was honest.

He immediately apologized and explained that it wasn’t the case at all. Dating made him nervous, he said, because he could never tell what the other person was thinking and didn’t want to overstep.

We planned to meet again two weeks later on a Sunday. But that afternoon, he texted to cancel—because he needed to update his phone with contacts from a conference he had just attended. Of all the excuses in the world… that’s the one he chose? Still, I had to give him credit—he was being honest.

We rescheduled for the following weekend. A few days before, I got another message: he had RSV and was recovering. RSV? In adults? I was skeptical again—until I heard his voice, or rather the lack of it. That was enough to make me feel bad for doubting him, and I wished him a quick recovery.

Finally, five weeks after our first date, we made plans for sushi. I half-expected something to go wrong—but this time, it didn’t.

Well… almost. He showed up nearly 20 minutes late.

But when he walked in, straight from working on a historic preservation site for a nonprofit he supported—wearing cowboy boots and covered in dust—I was completely smitten.

And just like that, everything made sense.

Our beginning may have been unconventional, filled with delays, doubts, and more than a few questionable excuses—but it led me to something incredibly special.

Those of you who know him understand the care, effort, and love he pours into the people around him. He genuinely believes in the goodness of others—and shows up for them in ways that matter.

And somehow, I get to experience that every single day.

He was absolutely worth the wait.

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