We met on May 20th, 2006 at a little coffee shop in downtown Portsmouth.  The meet and greet went very well and after about 90 minutes of “getting to know you” chatter, he invited me to attend a local art show with him.

As we strolled around the Stockley Gardens Art Show, I had a recurring urge to reach out and hold his hand but hesitated. A raging debate about handholding ensued.

Was it forward to reach out and grab someone’s hand? If I held his hand within 90 minutes of meeting, did that mean that we’d be kissing within the next hour, breathing heavy by noon and then back at his place for hot sex by 3 o’clock? Is that how men think? Was it wise for a woman to send that message so early on the first date? Or maybe I was thinking about this all wrong.

Maybe, if I reached out for his chubby little mitt, he’d see my sweet and playful side. Maybe he’d think it was cute and endearing.  But I hesitated. Did male/female hand-holding constitute foreplay in today’s dating world? I couldn’t decide. And then there was the whole matter of rejection. Heaven forbid, what if he turned away awkwardly, just like that crazy Date #8. It was bad enough when Date #8 rejected my end-of-date kiss. I’d die from sheer horror if Date #70 rejected a hand-holding.

It was too risky. I decided not to reach out for his hand.

Walking along the city sidewalks, he stopped me for a moment and said, “Hold on,” and then he took a step or two backwards and gracefully positioned himself on my other side.

“A gentleman always walks on the street side,” he said.

“Nice,” I replied, “but do you know why a gentleman always takes the street side?”

My 70th first date knew the reason why. (Gentlemen, in days of yore, walked on that side to protect a lady from the mud and muck manure thrown by a passing carriage.)

Now I wanted to grab him by the lapels on his flannel shirt and tell him that he was the man I’d waited for and dreamt about and prayed for and I could show him my four-page mission statement and it was very clear on all these points and could we just forego all the societal silliness and get married that afternoon and wouldn’t it be great to tell our kids that we got married on the very day we met and plus, was anyone ever married in a green flannel shirt, with the bride wearing red sandals and sporting a black laptop case as an accessory? It’d all be grand.

Read the rest here.