On our first date, we would go to a park. Minus any blanket or lunch baskets. Just our cameras, curiosity (mostly about each other) and excitement to shoot the outdoors. I would be dressed something like this...
What he wore, wouldn't really matter much to either of us. Not that what I wore would but it'd be as delightful as sugar flour sprinkled on doughnuts.
We'd be on our own trips to click what we individually felt like. We'd share. We'd experiment. We might even compete. But not to do out do the other. Fine, I might have a tad bit of the streak but I'd be humbled by his acceptance...not of defeat but of my idiosyncrasies.
We might hold hands. Almost accidentally without either particularly intending to do so. Our hands would brush each others' a lot. What felt from it would defeat our game plays or power politics.
We'd horse around a lot. Not the 'watch out for the tickling monster' variety. Just let go of social inhibitions. Strike silly poses. Push our own limits of acting child like only to appreciate that side of us more.
Naturally we'd click each other a lot; in moments when either one was too busy clicking something else. Neither of us would feel too beautiful to pose for a fancy photo shoot. But we'd be comfortable in each others company to make silly faces and trust that they would be framed well.
We'd lie on the grass. Click the skies, the trees, our horizontal portfolios. We'd hopefully find a cafe nearby. We'd choose to sit outdoors. Light a smoke, at least I would. Preferably, there'd be a slight nip in the air to enjoy the steam from our coffee and the warmth of our bodies leaning over to make discrete fun of the families sitting close by or that distant couples' matched clothes.
We'd fiddle with each others' fingers. He'd gaze deeply at me. I'd just feel more awkward than shy and gaze away at the clouds or anything a distance away. I'd end up asking hypothetical questions. He'd answer playfully. I'd make fun of his responses. I'd be caught in a strange dichotomy of feeling conscious (even shy at this point) yet wishing the day wouldn't end. Ideally, he'd sense it all and play along and shoot me some silly, hypothetical questions. I'd whip out my camera by now to shoot people in the cafe. He'd use his to take some scenic shots.
It starts to get dark and we'd decide to also dine there for supper. But first, we'd get us some affordable (not cheap, though) wine. He might ponder over a beer but I'd insist we share the wine, both for the connection and to split the costs. Mood would set in soon after.
I'd open up to my 'wilder' side. I'd begin flirting slightly more shamelessly. He might blush or be endeared by my mood switch. I'd become bolder with every sip from the glass and before I'd consciously realize, my right foot will not be on the floor any longer. We'd definitely be clutching our hands at this point. But he's also hungry. I wouldn't insist on anything in particular so ask him to order the main course but insist on doing the same with the desert. He will oblige (if he knew any better for himself). I'd feel a li'l (or a lot) wet by now.
We'd share our food. No one would dare or even think to feed the other. None of us would want either to be eating out of their hands. Definitely, not at this point. But we'd pick each others' food liberally and especially enjoy doing that.
After settling our accounts fair and square, we'd take the auto to my place. He SHOULD make the bold step to lean over and kiss me. We make out with the air blowing on our faces. I'd play with his hair a lot. He'd be gentle throughout. His hands would scurry about my dress, wanting to feel the obvious. That would only get me more excited. Auto driver would be unresentful of it all yet careful only to steal a few glances from his rear view and not stop and stare.
Auto gradually makes a stop. So do we. I'd have the broadest smile on my face and feel like not a care in the world about the serious public display of affection I just indulged in.
I'd walk inside my home and my phone buzz and I'd read, "Thank you for coming with me".
