Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Hive!
Obviously, Shamrock is very excited that today is basically all about him, but this is a nice day in the history of both of us Clovers too.
Two years ago, our second date was on St. Patrick’s Day (the day that was over 80 in Chicago. In March. I miss that year…). And it was a total comedy of errors. I still marvel that he wanted to go out with me again–it was one of those days where everything happens just wrong and all the bad questions get asked and everything happens at once.
So join me in a trip down memory lane. We were fresh off our first date, one Shamrock almost cancelled because I was so impossible to schedule with (lunch. No, now I have to work. Maybe dinner–no, ice cream. Never mind I can’t do Friday now.) [Strike 1: Impossible to schedule with] But schedule we did, and we closed down the restaurant.
I liked him. I hoped he liked me. He asked me if I wanted to go see the river get dyed or watch the parade on St. Patrick’s Day. I told him I was free all day, and we were on. (In my defense, that’s how it went down. Notice there are no times.)
And then, as they do, things happened. I make a meal for a family at my church once a month, and that Saturday was my day. I woke up early, with plenty of time to cook. And then my dad called. “Have you talked to your sister?” Her boyfriend hadn’t matched where they expected he would (he was in Med School)–this was a total surprise, as well as a problem. Teachers can only teach where we have certificates, and this late in the game she couldn’t get one in California, where he’d be going. My (not-so-amicably) divorced parents were both upset. Sis wasn’t picking up the phone. Shamrock sent me a quick text to let me know the river would be dyed at 10. It’s 8:30…maybe I can make it. [Strike 2: Vague. And mildly unreliable.]
Yep, it really does get that green. Photo by Shamrock. Miss Clover MIA.
An hour into trading phone calls I realized I needed to get to the store. Shamrock texted again: I’m at the river. I can meet you there. I shopped and cooked a meal one handed (still on the phone), then headed out to deliver it and meet up with Shamrock, wearing jeans and a t-shirt (just a t-shirt! In March!). A 20 minute walk later I realized the jeans were overkill. I’d need to go back home and change instead of getting right on the train. Shamrock: Well, I think I’ll hang out in Millennium Park now. River is done. Home & changed, I finally set out. Of course one train line was shut down, the one operating was packed, and moving sloooooowly. Shamrock had gone back to his downtown apartment by the Art Institute by now. [Strike 3: Nope, totally unreliable.]
The view from the top of Shamrock’s building. Picture texted to me. Still not there.
Finally, I made it there, we walked around, watched the parade, and then wandered around downtown. He asked if I wanted to get something to eat, and not wanting the date to end I said sure.
As we waited for a table, he asked what was going on with my sister (I’d vaguely explained why I was late). Part of the answer (and why my parents were really freaking out) was because a year before, MY relationship had ended–badly. My ex talked about marriage for over a year, he had the ring, and he planned to do it that weekend. And then his father told him not to, and he didn’t. My parents were terrified of something similar happening to my sister, and there was no way to answer his questions without telling him that. [Strike 4: Let’s have a nice chat about my EX.] That hurdle passed and food on the way, he asked me how last weekend was. MOH Sis and her boyfriend were staying with me the previous weekend and having dinner with my dad & his wife–the meet the parents. So how did it go?…bad. [Strike 5: Let me tell you about my crazy family.] Cringing, I figured this guy would not be calling me again–too bad, he seemed so nice.
As our mid-afternoon meal wound down, he asked what else I was doing (trying to extend the date? probably.). So I told him I had plans. And I did–I was seeing a comedy show with girlfriends, but that isn’t what I said. I accidentally took some “be coy” dating advice and ended up implying I had another date that evening. Oops. [Strike 6: Dating someone else too.]
I headed home, low expectations for another date in hand.
Obviously, it all worked out. It’s amazing what you’ll forgive when you really like someone.
Last year we tried seeing the river again–you’ll be pleased to hear I was ready on time– and it was a massive (freezing) fail. We waited in the cold for over and hour and then
they dyed the river nothing happened. So we went home. Except we couldn’t feel our feet.
This year, we went to dance lessons (still no talent) and hit the tux shop (total fail). Exciting times.
Anyone else have a special St. Patrick’s Day memory? Or almost completely botch your relationship? He must have really liked me…