Storytelling Saturdays: First Date

He was always close to me, within reach, yet the proper term for our relationship was “friendship”—and even that felt generous. Brandon was magnetic: physically attractive, yes, but what really drew me in was his vivacious personality. I’d watch him light up a room, making our mutual friends laugh effortlessly, and my heart would flutter… only to sink moments later when I reminded myself I could never approach him.

Maybe I was one of the boys in his eyes. I wasn’t traditionally feminine, though I enjoyed dressing up now and then. Still, the real reason I kept my distance was the fear that he was already taken. He always showed up alone to our gatherings, but you never know. Our conversations were limited to the occasional polite hello, and I never dared to hope for more. My crush felt like a secret the world didn’t know—but it wasn’t a secret I wanted to keep. I wanted it to be real.

The turning point came during a house party I hosted. Brandon arrived—alone, as usual—and I told myself it was now or never. I approached him awkwardly, suddenly unsure what to do with my arms, my breath, my voice. “Hey, Brandon,” I managed.

He greeted me with his signature energy and a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Corinne! Excellent party.”

Nerves forced me to be direct. I told him I wanted to go on a date with him. His smile faltered slightly, replaced by something softer—almost apologetic. That’s when he told me: he was leaving the country. Monday.

My heart sank. I hadn’t known. Everyone seemed to be moving abroad these days, but I never imagined Brandon would. I smiled to hide my heartbreak and walked away.

After the guests had left, I thought about the look on his face. Was there regret in his eyes? Maybe he had felt something too. But I’d been too late. I’d wasted so much time hiding behind fear. Now he was gone, and my window had closed.

Months passed. I didn’t go out much. Brandon’s photos from different countries filled my feed—smiling in cities I couldn’t pronounce, living a life I wasn’t part of. It hurt. We had never even shared a first date, just one brief confession.

Then, one Saturday afternoon while shopping, my phone buzzed. It was Brandon. A message. I froze, read it, and let out a joyful scream right there on the sidewalk. That single message turned into a conversation, then daily chats, and eventually, we were closer than we’d ever been in the same city. But it was bittersweet—he was still abroad. The distance made the wanting worse.

A year passed like a breath. Then, finally, the message I’d been waiting for:

“Coming home next week. Let’s have that date.”

When Saturday arrived, I dressed up like never before. Brandon arrived looking even more handsome than I remembered. We hugged tightly, both of us emotional, though I masked my happy tears. He picked me up—literally—and laughed, and it felt as if time hadn’t passed at all.

Dinner, dancing, cocktails… the night unfolded like a dream. Our chemistry was effortless. Every touch, every laugh, every compliment from him made me feel luminous. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He hadn’t changed a bit. He was still the charismatic, kind Brandon I had fallen for.

The night passed in a blur of laughter and tender glances. We brushed hands on purpose, blushed at nothing, and lived in the unspoken thrill that this was no longer just friendship.

“The important thing is that I opened my eyes,” he told me. “There’s no use regretting the past. I’m here now—and I’m not going anywhere.”

The sun began to rise as he drove me home. Surprised by how fast time had flown, we laughed again. At my front door, Brandon held my hands, kissed them, and whispered, “Thank you for an amazing night, Corinne. It was worth the wait.”

Then, gently, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It started tender, but deepened into something passionate. The golden morning light bathed us, but we didn’t care. His fingers tangled in my hair, my knees trembled, and the rest of the world melted away.

I had waited so long for our first date. It had been everything I hoped for—and more.

A dreamy first date, with the man of my dreams.

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