What a woman wants

I took my lady out last night. After everything she's been through lately, and knowing everything that is to come, smart girl deserved a night to remember. Plus, earlier that day, I'd been given a gift of attention and approval by a person near and dear to me that made my heart feel warm and full, and I wanted to spread the love around.

First, I set the scene at Proof. Swanky, arty, but not too stuffy. Everywhere you look, there's funky artwork, gorgeous lighting, and couples holding hands and cuddling. I raved over her outfit when she arrived until she blushed. We sat outside, and I began to wine and dine her -- anything her little heart desired.

She was so cute, grinning and looking away to the side in slight embarrassment as I catered to her tastes. Would she like to try a new wine or one she'd tried and loved? An appetizer? A salad, perhaps? After she made her selections, I listened to her talk about her nutty day, her current troubles and her fears about moving to NY. Was it the right thing? Would she end up coming back? I assured her that everything would work out brilliantly for her. How could they not, since she's so smart and accomplished and driven? I told her a silly story about my day to lighten her mood and got her giggling. I had to tell her that she looked so beautiful in the candlelight, with her eyes flashing and hair shining like gold. Her flashing eyes melted and she leaned in toward me even closer. She raised her wine glass again and again, looking at me over the rim when she thought I wouldn't notice.

When I paid the check, she thanked me over and over. I told her it was entirely my pleasure and I'd been looking forward to our evening together for some time. Nothing about it had disappointed, I said. In fact, it couldn't have been more perfect, but it wasn't over yet.

After dinner, I walked her through the art gallery, pointing out pieces I thought she'd particularly be interested in, asking her what she thought of the turkey wearing a wig or the photos of transgendered folks. I hung on her every word, encouraging her to describe her reactions in detail. A bit tipsy, she brushed against me again and again, giggling more and more. After we rearranged the roomful of big, red plastic penguins to our liking, I suggested a stroll down the street to clear our heads of the lingering wine fog. She instantly agreed. We walked and talked, and I told her what my nickname for her was. She slowed and came to a stop. I could see the pleasure wash over her features. I knew at that moment that she would come home with me if I asked, but I broke eye contact and steered her toward her car. I saw her safely off with a lingering hug and a caution to drive carefully. I knew we'd be seeing each other again soon and there was no need to rush. Damn, I'm a great boyfriend.