Rosa and me went out on a date last night. I took her to one of those firm bars and then we went to an art store for me to pick up some sketching and drawing supplies. Rosa drank a very healthy margarita and became giddy as we laughed and laughed. She can be so serious and it was pleasing to me for her to let her hair down. I drank sweet tea and had to experience her flush of inebriation vicariously. I would probably still be sitting at the bar early this morning if I had imbibed.
We then took a long drive out to God's country on our night ride home. Lynnard Skynnard was playing on the radio and I felt like a grand duo of rednecks exploring the backwoods. The only thing missing was cans of beer and country music. We spent the rest of the drive home talking about the beach and what we were going to do as I dodged deer in the car.
"We ought to do this more often," Rosa said as we traveled through the woods in a blur.
"I would like that," I replied optimistically, hoping my social anxieties would cooperate.
I am not much one for going out. It reminds me too much of my ex-wife and her insatiable urge to eat out every meal which exhausted me and forever spoiled the pleasure of dining out for me. I am finding dining out with Rosa to be a far different experience, though. She appreciates and savors the experience. I really should treat her more often.