Last Friday, DH and I were trying to decide where to go for lunch. Maybe we were feeling sentimental, because I mentioned a place that's been one of our favorites for many years. Unfortunately, it turns out that they've closed.
Then DH said, "What about the Italian place where we had our first date? Are they still open?" (I appreciate the fact that my husband can be so spontaneously romantic. It's really appealing when they're not even trying!)
Indeed, they were still open, so we headed to the old neighborhood where the restaurant was located. It looked like it had seen better days, but that's kinda how we remembered it from before! There is one new feature--bars on the windows--so I can't say much for the ambience. But their wonderful fresh salads and creamy homemade dressing hadn't changed, nor had the chicken parmigiana on fresh-baked bread. We sat at the same booth where we (think) we sat 20 years ago, and I'm pretty sure we even had the same waitress!
Neither of us remembers our first date with any particular excitement. When DH is under stress, he tends to talk a lot, and when I'm nervous, I'm more likely to clam up, so as I recall, that Wednesday evening was pretty much a one-way conversation. "Goodness, that man talks a lot," I thought. He probably said to himself, "The girl is just plain dull."
Nonetheless, there must have been a little interest there, because a few days later we arranged another date. And then another. And the rest is histoire!