A Romantic First Date

I am nervous. Tonight I have a first date with someone I met at a friend's party last weekend. His name is Daniel. He seemed kind and funny when we talked at the party. He asked me for my phone number and I gave it to him. We exchanged messages all week. He is a musician who plays guitar in a band. He also works as a music teacher during the day. He asked me out to dinner and I said yes. Now it is six o'clock on Friday evening and I am standing in front of my wardrobe trying to decide what to wear. I want to look nice but not like I am trying too hard. I try on three different outfits before I settle on a simple black dress with my favourite silver necklace. I look in the mirror. I feel good. I put on some perfume and check my phone. He sent a message: "Looking forward to tonight. See you at seven thirty!"

We are meeting at a small Italian restaurant in the old town. He chose it because he said it has the best pasta in the city and a really cosy atmosphere. I take a taxi because I do not want to arrive sweaty from walking. I get there at seven twenty-five, five minutes early. I go inside. The restaurant is exactly as he described: small, warm, and romantic, with candles on every table and soft music playing. The waiter shows me to a table for two near the window. I sit down and order a glass of water while I wait. I feel butterflies in my stomach. What if we have nothing to talk about? What if there is an awkward silence? What if he does not look like I remember? I take a deep breath and remind myself to relax. It is just dinner. It will be fine.

At seven thirty exactly, Daniel walks in. He looks even better than I remember. He is wearing a dark blue shirt and jeans, and he has a warm, easy smile. He sees me and his face lights up. He comes to the table and says, "Hi Sophie! You look beautiful." I feel my cheeks go pink and say, "Thank you. You look great too." He sits down and immediately the nervousness starts to fade. He has a relaxed energy that makes me feel comfortable. He says, "I am so glad you said yes to dinner. I have been thinking about you all week." I say, "Me too. I mean, I have been looking forward to this." He smiles and picks up the menu. "Shall we order some wine?" he asks. I say, "Yes, please. Red or white?" He says, "Red, I think. It goes better with pasta."

We order a bottle of red wine and look at the menu together. He recommends the homemade ravioli. I choose the mushroom risotto. We also order bruschetta to share as a starter. While we wait for the food, we talk. The conversation flows easily. He tells me about his band. They play jazz and blues in bars and small venues around the city. He says, "We have a gig next Saturday, actually. Would you like to come?" I say, "I would love that." He tells me about teaching music to children. His eyes light up when he talks about it. He says, "There is nothing better than seeing a child play their first song. The look on their face is pure joy." I can tell he really loves what he does. I find that very attractive.

He asks me about my life. I tell him about my work as a translator. He seems genuinely interested. He asks, "How many languages do you speak?" I say, "Three fluently: English, French, and German. And I am learning Spanish." He says, "That is incredible. I can barely manage one language!" I laugh and say, "Music is a language too. You speak that fluently." He likes this answer. The bruschetta arrives and it is delicious: crispy bread with fresh tomatoes, basil, and olive oil. We eat and talk about our favourite books, films, and places we have travelled. We discover that we both love Italy, both prefer autumn to summer, and both enjoy cooking. We have more in common than I expected.

The main courses arrive. My risotto is creamy and rich, with perfectly cooked mushrooms. His ravioli is filled with ricotta and spinach in a sage butter sauce. He offers me a taste and I offer him one of mine. We both agree that the food is excellent. The wine is smooth and warm. I feel relaxed and happy. There are no awkward silences. Every time one topic ends, another begins naturally. He tells me a funny story about a concert where his guitar string broke mid-song and he had to improvise. I tell him about the time I accidentally translated a serious business document with a very embarrassing mistake. We both laugh until our eyes water. I cannot remember the last time I laughed this much on a date.

After the main course, the waiter asks if we want dessert. Daniel looks at me and says, "Shall we share something?" I say, "Yes, let us share the tiramisu." It arrives in a beautiful glass dish: layers of coffee-soaked sponge, mascarpone cream, and cocoa powder on top. We eat it with two spoons, taking turns. It is heavenly. Daniel says, "This is the best tiramisu I have ever had." I agree. He pours the last of the wine into our glasses and says, "I have to be honest with you, Sophie. I was really nervous about tonight." I say, "Really? You seem so relaxed!" He says, "I am good at hiding it. But I really wanted to make a good impression. I think you are amazing." I feel warm inside and say, "I think you are pretty amazing too."

We finish our wine and Daniel asks for the bill. I offer to split it but he says, "Please, let me. You can get the next one." I like that he said "the next one." It means he wants to see me again. The bill is forty-five euros. He pays with his card and leaves a generous tip. We put on our jackets and walk outside. The night air is cool and fresh. The old town looks magical at night, with street lamps casting warm light on the cobblestone streets. Daniel says, "Would you like to walk for a bit? It is such a nice evening." I say, "I would love to." We walk slowly through the narrow streets, past closed shops and quiet squares. Our hands brush against each other and then he takes my hand. It feels natural and right.

We walk along the river. The water is dark and still, reflecting the lights from the buildings on the other side. We stop on a bridge and lean on the railing, looking at the view. Daniel says, "I really enjoyed tonight. You are easy to talk to. I feel like I can be myself with you." I say, "I feel the same way. I was so nervous before, but as soon as you arrived, I felt comfortable." He turns to look at me and says, "Can I see you again? Maybe this weekend? I could cook dinner for you at my place." I say, "I would like that very much." He smiles that warm smile of his and says, "Saturday? After my gig, or before?" I say, "Before. Then I can come to your gig afterwards and hear you play." He says, "Perfect plan."

We walk back towards the main street where I can find a taxi. He says, "Let me walk you to the taxi rank." We walk together, still holding hands. At the taxi rank, he turns to me and says, "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Sophie." I say, "Thank you, Daniel. I had a really lovely time." He leans in and kisses me gently on the cheek. I feel butterflies again, but the good kind this time. A taxi pulls up and I get in. I wave through the window as the taxi drives away. He waves back, standing under a street lamp with his hands in his pockets, smiling. In the taxi, I cannot stop smiling either. I feel like I am floating. I send him a message: "Thank you for tonight. I had the best time." He replies immediately: "Me too. Saturday cannot come soon enough." I lean back in the seat and close my eyes, still smiling. What a perfect evening.