Pay attention little sardines...this is how the BIG fish do it....

Just when I was ready to close out my profile and take a break, I had an offer from a gentleman who had sent me several "winks" here and there.


Nothing pushy, but some kind, flattering and gentle remarks now and then.


Last week he asked politely if we could meet for a date.  Not a drink or dinner, but something else entirely.  (Because ironically, he doesn't drink.)

We spoke on the phone and I asked him my new, completely revised list of questions.  I encouraged him to do the same and we had several nice conversations.


After discussing the date, leaving a detailed itinerary with my daughter, my best friend, my accountant AND my lawyer,  I put my bike in the back of my vehicle and drove to the State Park.

I parked where I had been instructed to park and met the (very nice-looking) gentleman in the parking lot.

He LOOKED normal.  He appeared to be the SAME AGE as his picture, and smiled a warm and lovely smile.


My heart fluttered.


He took my hand and let me past several FULL tables of families enjoying their Labor Day picnics.  We walked along a short path to our own pavilion that had one table covered with a red tablecloth.  At each end of the table sat GORGEOUS buckets of Chrysanthemums.  

"Wait, this is it?  This is for us?"


He smiled.  "Of course!"


We had a most lovely, lovely picnic of fried chicken, fresh cherries, coleslaw, and many other delicious goodies.  We walked hand in hand by the small beach filled with laughing and frolicking children, sat on a large swing and shared stories, and then took a long, long bike ride through the park AND the woods.  ("So THIS is what mountain-biking is!" I thought.")


And at the end of the rigorous ride, with a head full of soaking wet hair and a face gleaming with more sweat than one woman should ever be allowed to excrete....I looked at him and laughed.


He looked me in the eyes and smiled.  "You are one beautiful lady."




Sniff.




(Dd you see THAT????  Did you miss it??  Yeah, it was the ball flying over the outfield fence.)




And that's how it's done, my friend.  That is how it's done.