cyber dating

We met online
which is a crapshoot these days.
I liked your profile,
the things you were and wanted.
You were so pretty in your photos,
I wondered what you might look like
in person.
We emailed back and forth for days.
Even in black and white,
you were cute and funny.
On the day we were to meet,
you almost cancelled.
But you didn’t.
I reached the restaurant early
and sat writhing in anticipation.
You arrived late, but not too.
You walked through the door
in a bright sundress and a brighter smile.
Your photos did you no credit.
I was stunned by your beauty.
We sat and ordered drinks first.
I had a margarita, top shelf.
You ordered a gin and tonic
and I was bemused.
I knew you were from Connecticut
and Florida
and here you were,
ordering a southern belle drink.
We must have talked for an hour
before ordering anything to eat.
You wore your smile
like sunglasses on a bright day.
We talked about our family, friends, and history,
laughing all the time.
We tested each other with small jabs,
good natured and well placed.
You punctuated your stories
with a quick touch of my arm or hand,
sending a tingle through me each time.
I told you my safe stories first,
quickly slipping into virgin territory.
I never seemed to surprise you
and you listened to me
like I was the only one in the room.
I paid the bill
and walked you to your car.
We talked a little more
and I hugged you before turning
and walking away.
I knew I had made a friend
and hoped for more.