He handed me a brown paper bag (mind you, just a normal lunch-sized kraft paper bag that was still flat and folded) and in all seriousness said, “Just in case you need it.”
Turning to look at him, a near-stranger with whom I was about to have a coffee date, I asked, “Is this in case I'm nauseous?”
“That too,” he smiled sheepishly. “But I was thinking of something more like this…”
As his voice trailed off, I watched with wide eyes as he pulled out a paper bag, opened it, covered his mouth, and forced it open and closed with controlled breathing. “We're both very nervous,” he explained matter-of-factly. “We may need them if we hyperventilate.”
Like a popped champagne cork, laughter popped and bubbled, and the chemistry in the car changed from frigid temperatures to cozy and comfortable. We chatted like old friends as we headed down Highway 57 toward Orange Circle, where we chatted over coffee at Pie Hole, strolled with our hands in our pockets, and planted the first seeds of friendship.
I had recently gotten through a marathon seven-year divorce that left me broken and devastated, and my family, friends, and children knew I would never date again and certainly never get married. I had only agreed to go for coffee because I knew him through our 19-year-old boys. Their inseparable friendship during their high school years had caused our paths to cross. We shared numerous deliveries and pick-ups while I was sorting out the divorce paperwork and he was going through a heartbroken home over the death of his wife.
But now, years later, as he walked me to the door, he asked, “Can I see you again?”
On our second date, he took me to “The Sound of Music” at La Mirada Performing Arts Theatre. Tears ran down my face all night because of his cologne and my allergies. When we said goodbye at the door, I cautiously admitted, “I don't think I'll be able to see you again. “I’m terribly allergic to you.”
Surprised, he said, “I thought the singing moved you!” That night he texted me a photo of a hammer crushing his cologne bottle.
A few days later, we strolled through the Muckenthaler Cultural Center in Fullerton and heard live music wafting through the park. Our curiosity got the better of us and we walked the grounds to find an intimate wedding reception taking place in the courtyard below. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and we were dancing in the moonlight as the trees glowed with floating bulbs and the old-fashioned streetlamps lit up as if on cue. It was as if we were on the set of “La La Land”, something magical and unforgettable. This was the night he said he fell in love with me.
As accomplices, we began planning surprise adventures for each other over the course of two years: an enchanted nighttime stroll through the Palos Verdes Botanical Gardens; a day trip to San Francisco to eat at Red's Java House and watch the Giants play; ice skating at the Hotel del Coronado in San Diego and a trolley ride with Christmas carols; “The Lion King” at the Pantages in Hollywood; dinner in downtown Perch before the final performance of “Peter Pan Goes Wrong” with Neil Patrick Harris at the Ahmanson Theater; a day at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades; and a lovely dinner in a private cabana at the Firefly in Studio City.
So it wasn't a surprise when he texted me: “Are you available all day on September 21st?”
I replied: “It's my day off. Absolutely!”
He arrived early and took me to the Huntington Library, the Art Museum, and the San Marino Botanical Gardens. We spent hours stopping in the Chinese gardens, eating in the glass tea house, and looking out over the koi-filled pond. We wandered through rose gardens, exhibits and the endless gift shop. When 3pm rolled around, we collapsed satisfied and exhausted on a shady park bench.
“We can call it a day if you want,” I said, yawning. “It's already been amazing.”
According to my events coordinator, the day was just beginning. Our next stop was Culver City, where he gave me a music box that played “Edelweiss.” It was a hint of our next destination: the Hollywood Bowl for “Rodgers & Hammerstein's The Sound of Music Sing-A-Long.” But first we had to eat at Lustig, an Austrian restaurant where we ordered schnitzel with noodles (also known as spaetzle), sausages, and a bowl of divine pumpkin soup recommended by our friendly waiter.
At the Hollywood Bowl, we whistled at the Baroness, booed the Nazis, and threw confetti when Maria received her first kiss. When Captain von Trapp sang “Edelweiss” to his children, the entire amphitheater joined in, filling the Hollywood Hills with a surprisingly moving musical sound.
I fell asleep contentedly on the way home, but woke up when we reached our favorite place in Muckenthaler.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” asked. Blearily, I followed him to a picnic bench that glowed amber in the flashlight light.
“I want to give you the same gift I gave you on our first date…”
Puzzled, I challenged him: “You didn't give me a gift on our first date.”
He slowly handed me a brown paper bag; Of course, just a lunch-sized kraft paper bag, still flat and folded. “Do you remember this?” he smiled nervously. “I guess you'll need it right now.”
And he was right, because at that moment he fell to one knee.
The author is a librarian for the Fullerton Public Library System. On her days off, she explores new places and embarks on day-long adventures with her newly acquired partner in crime and fiancé. In her free time, she also enjoys reading, baking, writing, spending time with her family, and her latest hobby: planning a wedding and honeymoon.
Los Angeles Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the Los Angeles area, and we want to hear your true story. We paid $400 for a published essay. Email [email protected]. You can find shipping guidelines. here. You can find previous columns. here.
