A French Market Date: A Shoe Story

20 03 2013
Photos: H&M flats worn by Darby/ French Market photo courtesy of www.amberhuez.com

Photos: H&M flats worn by Darby/ French Market photo courtesy of http://www.amberhuez.com

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes to pick you up. Are you ready?”

“Yea, if couuuuuurse,” I said, lying through my teeth.

Of course I wasn’t ready. But, in my defense, it was our second date, and I’d been tearing up my suitcase and closet trying to figure out what the heck I should wear. After about 15 outfit changes (amazing since I was only in town for a week), I finally settled on an outfit, but hadn’t quite figured out the shoes by the time he called.

At the last minute, though, I decided to just slide on my new cobalt blue flats from H&M. And by last minute, I mean right as he was pulling up in my parents’ driveway. A few seconds later, I heard the doorbell ring.

“I got it,” I screamed out to my sisters, attempting to cut them off before they could get started on their usual teasing when dates came over.

I straightened my outfit one last time and then swung the door open.


He stood there with the biggest grin on his face.

“Hey, ” he replied. “Are you actually ready?”

I could tell he was giving me the once over, so I let him take it all in before answering.

“Yep, I just need to…”

“I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t be ready.”

“Ummm, I just need to get my purse, interruptor,” I said, using my best ahaaaaaa voice and trying to keep myself from laughing. “See what happens when you assume? Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m not going to say that because you probably just finished.”

“First of all, you don’t know me. And second…”

“What,” he countered. “Second, what?”

“And second… So what if I did! The point is I’m still on time!” I folded my arms in mock protest, letting him know that I was sorta kinda serious about wanting that apology. Even if he may have been a little right.

“Alright baby, sure… I apologize.”

And with that, my smile matched his from when I first opened the door. I quickly grabbed my purse, hollered out bye to my family and skipped to his car.

“You’re real happy about that apology, huh?”

“And you know this…. Mannnn!”

We both jumped in the car and headed to our destination… the famed New Orleans French Market. Even though it was technically only our second date, we’d been talking on the phone long distance for the past month and 1/2, and so when I told him that I wanted to get my friends their birthday presents from the French Market year, he eagerly suggested we could incorporate that into some “us” time.

I was pleased with the idea, so we went with it.

By the time we pulled up to the Market about 20 minutes later, I’d already caught him giving me the googly eyes during red lights on a few occasions. And by the last one, I was even starting to return them and not just laugh them off, a feat for someone like myself who tries to pull off a non-mushy demeanor for most situations. We pulled into a spot, and he immediately informed me not to get out of the car so he could open my door for me.

A bit much, I thought, at first, and then quickly scolded myself for being that girl who doesn’t just enjoy someone doing something nice for her. I was going to enjoy this, I told myself. I’d even worn my flats so I’d have no excuse of my feet hurting to cut our time short. We began walking and everything was flowing normally until I realized something. He was reaching for my hand. I was so caught off guard. Wait, was hand-holding a part of the deal for a 2nd date, I wondered. Wasn’t that a bit much? Eeek – I totally was NOT a pda kinda girl! Didn’t he know this? Hadn’t we discussed this before? Ohhh, what was I going to do???

Oh yea, I was in pure freak-out mode.

But the longer my hand stayed there, in his hand, the less freaked out I remained. And suddenly, we were traipsing through the French Market, me in my blue flats and him in Nike’s – the two of us half-walking, half-skipping, but completely joined with each other. We were picking up knick knacks and trying on silly hats, tossing around doubloons and playing with the masks and second line umbrellas.

We were having a blast, just shopping for my friends! This was like a woman’s dream, right? A man who enjoyed shopping with her! A man who couldn’t stop smiling at her. A man who she’d grown so comfortable with in a few hours that she was now perfectly okay with him giving her kisses on her neck and cheek and chasing her around the market. I mean, I’d gone from side-eyeing him and his googly eyes in the car to letting him feed me samples from the food displays. WHAT?! That just wasn’t me, I thought.

But I’d realized one more thing, in the midst of us playing around the market, and despite the fact that he was more of a Nike guy than I was used to – I liked it. I liked spending time with him. I liked having him mock chase me and use silly accents when we tried on the masks. I liked him. And maybe, just maybe, I was beginning to be interested in seeing where this could go. I was also really happy I chose flats and not heels, because it probably would have been a totally different experience.




2 responses

26 03 2013

Oh Darby, I love your dating stories. This was too cute. And I like how the hand holding part snuck in…guess you’re that girl now… Lol.

27 03 2013

Hahaha and I love that you love them! But (and I hope this doesn’t ruin the story for you), just so you know – this was the same guy from the last shoe story too. This was the beginning. The ball was the beginning of the end lol… but yes, I have become, slowly, but surely a hand-holding girl. It’s actually quite sickening 🙂

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