I am terrible about talking about myself. It may be hard to believe since I have multiple blogs, twitters, and social streams where all I do all day long is talk. But in general, most of my conversations revolve around the other person.

I love people. I love getting to know someone and really caring about who they are.

I hate telling people about me. I am far too private. If I am talking about myself I try to make it into a joke.

Which is why, when someone sees me or sees things that I don’t blatantly parade, I am delighted.
I dated someone earlier this year. It was never serious, just off and on when both of our busy schedules would allow. But I will never forget our first date.

I am ice chewer. It is a habit that I barely notice I do but I eat ice like it is your favorite chip. Most often I will get large glasses of ice and chew all day. I have no plans to break this bad habit despite how annoying it may be to those around me. I just love it too much.

Back to the first date…

We were meeting at a cozy restaurant in Portland. Candlelight, fireplace, charming service… a perfect first date spot. I remember he was wearing a sportscoat and waiting at the bar when I arrived. I was so nervous. We started with drinks and conversation quickly got in the way of ordering dinner. As the evening progressed and my date ordered another drink, I was content with what I was drinking:

“I’ll have another and can I get a glass of ice for her.”

Thinking about that still makes me smile. I don’t recall having a conversation about chewing ice. It may be silly to be delighted by that gesture but it had shown me more than an evening of conversation could ever say.

Fast forward half of a year and I am moving from Portland to Seattle. We had not kept in touch. In fact, we had a pretty terrible falling out months prior. But here and there, little moments of reconnection… Texts on birthdays. Running into each other in a different state. Casual twitter conversations. Then when he heard I was moving, he rearranged his schedule so we could have dinner together before I moved.

This time we met at his place then made a few different stops for drinks and dinner. The places weren’t as cozy as before but I was still nervous. We never talked about our falling out. We didn’t need to. We caught up on all that had gone on in the past 6 months… family, work, relationships and everything in between. During dinner, the ice had melted from his scotch and he asked our server for some more. Once the ice arrived, he poured half into his drink and set the glass in the middle of the table. We continued talking and planning what the rest of our evening may hold. It was my last night in Portland, I was hoping to make it memorable. Then he said,

“I am surprised you haven’t eaten that ice. I saved half of it for you.”

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