February 23 - Driving a stick...chapter 10

One of the conversations we had had on our 3 dates, was that I did not know how to drive a stick shift. Bryan seemed eager to teach me, offering more than once to do it...even offering to teach me in his car. I was EXTREMELY hesitant, because I couldn't think of a faster way to end this "relationship" (if it was even safe to call it that) than to wreck his car. Memories of driving lessons with my Dad came back with frightening clarity...I had the gift when behind the wheel of a car, of driving even the most calm person to swear. But when he offered again on our last date, my need to be with him outweighed my fear long enough for the word, "okay" to come out of my mouth. He told me he'd pick me up after class on Wednesday, and we could go practice in a parking lot.

I spent all of Tuesday and Wednesday stressing about how much it stunk that this perfect perfect thing we had was about to come to a screeching halt.

When Bryan picked me up, I think I was shaking, and I begged him to change his mind, told him I didn't want to go learn to drive a stick anymore. He kept laughing, and telling me it wasn't that big of a deal, that it would be fine. He told me he had taught tons of people to drive stick and none of them had ever crashed. His calmness was contagious, so off we went.

I wasn't what I would call good, but at least it wasn't a disaster. He talked me into driving from the safe, empty parking lot where we were practicing, to the institute parking lot...across town! I was terrified. Mostly because this was on Foothill Drive...I was so scared of driving a stick on a hill. But it worked out...I made it, and we didn't die.

Once there, I hurried and parked and kept the car in idle (so we didn't freeze to death). We talked, and talked and talked and talked. We talked about silly things, serious things, happy things, sad things...everything. I suppose you could call this our first D-Y-R (define your relationship). And we did just that. It was official...we were a couple.

Now that being said, Bryan still hadn't so much as held my hand. For him, that was normal. For me, I was about 4 dates overdue for some kind of PA. That's not something I like to brag about...quite the opposite actually, but to understand my level of confusion/frustration, it's an important detail in this saga.

At one point, a police car pulled up along side us and had us roll down the window. As I look back on it, the windows were pretty fogged up...but hello...we were talking! He asked if I was okay, and I told him I was, and he smiled and went on his way. Poor Bryan. He feels guilty even when someone else does something wrong, so I could only imagine the trauma that experience wrought upon him.

We ended up talking until nearly 3 am. On a school night. On a work night. And this was before cell phones, and Bryan still lived at home. So Bryan drove me to my apartment, and told me I had to call his mom and tell her it was my fault. I know, real brave of him. Lucky for me, as worried as she was about him, she didn't issue any punishments, and was actually really nice about it...I think she almost even laughed at one point. We hung up, and Bryan hugged me goodnight, with a promise of a date in a couple of days. As tired as I was, it was very hard to fall asleep.