As You Like It: First Date Anniversary

It was one of those silly arguments that we have occasionally because of our differing memories. I kept insisting that we had eaten at Schraftt’s on our first date and Shatz kept saying that no, it was Howard Johnson’s.

“I should know,” he said. “I asked my mom where we should eat after the play, and she suggested Howard Johnson’s.”

I should have given in, but of course I didn’t, even though my memory is not exactly old reliable anymore. So, stubbornly, I replied, “It was Schraftt’s!” and Shatz just shook his head. We left it at that until a few days later I looked it up in my diary. During my high school days I wrote in a diary every day, and I’ve somehow managed to keep all that teenage angst in my downstairs closet. Every so often I read a few passages, always surprised when I discover how boring a teenage girl’s life can be. All that ink spilled over boys, boys, and more boys.

But one of those boys was Shatzie, and I love that I can uncover my adolescent passion for him. And sure enough, there it was under February 17, 1968, in blue and white, we had indeed eaten at Howard Johnson’s. But the funny thing about the entry was that I had written about our date almost as an afterthought, bookended by mentions of other boys. How was I to know that 43 years later we would be celebrating that date?

We were sophomores in high school when we met and juniors when we went on that first date. His mom had given him two tickets to a Broadway show, I Never Sang for My Father, that she wasn’t using, and so of course he asked his best friend, Charlie, to go with him. That’s right, Charlie! But Charlie couldn’t, so I was the consolation prize. I don’t think he told me that till much later, at least I hope he didn’t since it wasn’t the most flattering invitation in the world. Plus, he had no idea that I was dating Charlie, so it would have been totally teenaged weird! What can I say, it was the 1960s.

I remember that it was a freezing afternoon and that I wore a gray knit dress with a pink and turquoise scarf and, unfortunately, no sweater or hat. God forbid you should ruin the hair with a hat, so I froze, but quite fetchingly. I also remember not being able to fully enjoy the play because for some reason I hadn’t eaten anything and I was starving. I was pretty sure that the entire theater could hear my stomach roaring. Shatz offered me mints and I devoured them all.

Afterwards we walked over to Howard Johnson’s for burgers and fries. I remember that throughout that afternoon my adorable future husband never once took my hand unless we were crossing the street. Though we had been talking and flirting for most of that year, he seemed really nervous that day. Later I learned that not only was this our first date, but it was his first real date ever, so that explained his sweaty palms and the distance he was keeping between us. When we got home that night I was feeling frustrated, so, loose woman that I was, I grabbed him and kissed him goodnight. Our next date was spent in much closer proximity.

Years later I began looking through my diaries to find the exact date of our first outing. Ever since then I’ve written it in my calendar. Because it’s so close to Valentine’s Day, we celebrate the two days together. We make reservations at a favorite restaurant, and I wear something gray topped with that pink and turquoise scarf. Somehow, despite all the moving around that I’ve done, that scarf has remained in my life along with my diaries.

This year was no exception. We’ve discovered a favorite new Italian restaurant in Needham called Spiga, and so Shatz made reservations and off I went in my anniversary scarf. The place is cozy, friendly, and embracing. The owner spoke to us in Italian and we tried to understand. Our waiter, Dan, had the same bewitching Italian accent, and I decided to pretend that we were in Italy. There would be no burgers and fries at our table this time.

Dan is the kind of waiter that is unfortunately disappearing — a consummate professional who knows the menu and the wine list intimately. He made us feel that we were his only table, bringing us samples and suggesting wines. We laughed with him and felt as if he were hosting us in his home. I felt so comfortable that I told him that we were celebrating our 43^rd first date anniversary. Those are numbers that I don’t throw out casually.

As we sat there blissfully enjoying our food, our wine, and each other, we talked about how amazing it was that we were still together so many years after that high school date. It seems to have happened slowly and quickly at the same time. Our lives have grown together day by day until there we sat, years from Howard Johnson’s and New York City, still holding hands. We haven’t been the height of Romeo and Juliet romance every instant, but unlike them we have our happily ever after. And I have the scarf to prove it.

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Posted by Joan Florek Schottenfeld on Feb 24 2011. Filed under As You Like It, Featured Content, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.