So here we are, sitting in my car trying to figure out what to do about my date.  Panicked, influenced by friends, and in a hurry, I invited him to come to the Emergency Room with us and to everyone's surprise, he said okay.  I picked him up from his car and he hopped right in.  All I could think was, oh hello, it is going to be you.  You are for sure a keeper.

After a few hours in the ER and I was hooked.  Like really really hooked.  I wanted to know about his family and what his childhood was like.  I wanted to hear his laugh to be the soundtrack of my life.  I wanted to break down on the side of the road so he could be the one to rescue me.  I wanted to be chased by some creature through the woods so he could protect me.  I wanted to find my way into his heart.

We were able to make it to dinner after everything was sorted out. (No worries, my teammate's hand is perfectly fine now, my heart? Not so much.)  Have you ever heard the saying that no great story ever starts with eating a salad? Well, once again, he and I are the exception.  I, naturally, ordered buffalo chicken because that is one of my five major food groups.  He on the other hand, ordered a salad.  Yes, a salad.  He has since told me that he wanted to make a good first date impression but honestly, he could have ordered anything and I would have still been enthralled.

At the end of the date, he was a complete gentleman and walked me up to my room.  For those of you that know, you must be escorted around the building I lived in at the time so I was apprehensive about the situation.  Once he kissed me goodbye though, every worry disappeared.  A single peck and my head was exploding with fireworks. The end of the date for me was perfect however, I have come to learn that on his sneak out of my dorm he was stopped by the student at the desk.  He was questioned over and over but all he replied with was, "I just walked a girl upstairs after our first date.  You are not going to ruin it and make me go get her."  It worked.  The universe made another exception on our behalf, something that would begin to happen often.