“Smile-- it's the second best thing you can do with your lips.”
~Author Unknown
It was a dream.
Every facet of the date seemed to go just right.
The couple started out at a tiny ice cream shop. Ice cream was one thing about which they were both highly opinionated, having spent a great deal of time in South America between the two. Ice cream took them back to memories of sorveterias, of Brazil, of Argentina, of missions, of disappointments, of fears, of joys, and of the idea that someday they could return and share that with someone—not ruling out the possibility of each other being in that supposed future.
They continued their chat not perceiving anything around them. A tiny sphere of intimacy and normalcy as the world whizzed by questioning their decision to walk around eating ice cream on a blustery January day. Walking around engaged with the whimsy of nostalgia was enough to keep them from noticing their reddening noses and the subtle shrinking of their smiles to conserve heat.
As was customary, they quickly moved on to the second part of the date at the planetarium. Science wasn’t really their main focus in life, but the complexities of the universe still demanded more curiosity than anything with the exception of human emotion.
Both in their mid-twenties, the experience returned them to the lessons of a decade ago in middle school science as the relearned concepts of density, the nature of light, and the age of the universe. At each exhibit, a sense of competition emerged as they quizzed each other on basic knowledge, covering up information and asking pointed questions:
“What is the primary reason the earth has seasons?”
“Explain the aurora borealis.”
“Glass, rubber, and plastic have what in common?”
“A nebula consists of what?”
The nerdy flirtation was balanced out by a great deal of nostalgia for middle school and for friends neither of them had really thought about for some time. Seeing the kids around them only approximated them to those awkward days and memories of unsurity and ostracization as well as coming of age. They were comfortable in their skins now and able to let go in public, taking silly pictures of each other landing on the moon and forecasting the weather.
Following a walk through a feathery snow, they contemplated what to do next. A mile later, waist-deep in conversation of dreams for the future, inspiration hit and left a smile across both of their faces. As the temple in downtown Salt Lake came into view, it seemed the obvious finale to a good night.
It was like sunset on earth. Brilliant points of pink, white, and orange painted across the sky and the trees and the pools of water as the breeze tugged at their surface. The sister missionaries skirted around the perimeter getting ready to go home weary after a day of proselyting. As they walked in silence taking in their surroundings, they found themselves arm in arm blushing a little.
Quietly, they made their way to the doorstep where it all began. The usual—but sincere—“I had a great night,” bashful smiles, and glances into each other eyes, and finally a kiss—not perfect, slightly awkward, and deliberate enough to remain unforgettable—two smiles becoming one for just one moment.
***
In a way, the date was every cliché in the book. Everything I’d imagined and wanted to have before I realized I was gay. I wanted a cute day date. I wanted ice cream and adventures. I wanted to walk hand in hand on temple grounds. It was better than that clichéd dream I'd desired for so long. Fearlessly, Evan was able to make those unspoken dreams—impossibly idealized and conditioned upon me—come true or at least made possible somehow. He was able to fix that piece of me that said “You’ll never have what you really want.”
End, Part 7.
