The first thing we did was eat dinner. Brock asked me where I wanted to go, since he wasn't familiar with Los Gatos. I wasn't sure how much he wanted to spend, so I gave a him three choices: Taco Bell, Willow Street (Italian), and the best Steakhouse in town. He chose Willow Street and we got a lovely view of Los Gatos downtown as we ate on the patio.
It was very pretty out that evening. The sun was just going down, so everything had that soft, twilight glow. The only down side was the yellowjacket invasion. They seemed to like me or my food, or both, and Brock had a time trying to keep me calm. Setting that aside, dinner was wonderful. We talked about his law school friends and his family, and he asked me about my family and grad school. We had plenty of time before the concert, so we just relaxed and enjoyed the evening.
From there we drove down 17 to Santa Cruz and the Boardwalk. It was a thirty minute drive, so we had plenty of time to get to know each other. Mostly we sang. Brock played Josh Groban and the soundtrack from the Beauty and the Beast on Stage. He sang it all and I was mesmerized by his fantastic voice. Sometimes I sang with him, but mostly I just enjoyed his singing. I remember the drive felt very short.
The concert that night was Herman's Hermits and we got to stand in the group right in front of the stage. They sang "I'm in to something good" and "I'm 'enry the eighth I am," as well as a number of songs from other bands. They were very good, though I remember being a little shocked at seeing a 60-something man in yellow leather pants. We sang and danced and it took me a while to notice Brock had put his arm around me, but when I finally did, I liked it.
After the concert we rode on most of the rollercoasters and walked around the park a little. Our last stop was down at the beach. We were pretty tired by then and more than a little giddy, at least I was. It was very romantic on the beach. We kicked off our shoes and played in the water, holding hands and singing all the silly songs we had just heard. When we got tired of running around, we sat and snuggled in the sand listening to the surf and the crowds behind us.
Eventually we decided it was time to head home. I had reached a level of tiredness that can only be called "sleep-drunk," which carries all the symptoms of alcohol comsumption, without the hangover the next day. Brock thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen and got a kick out of trying to steer me toward the car. It was a very good thing he drove. I relaxed a little in the car and in the drive home we talked about intelectual things. we discussed literature, poetry, and music. It was amazing how much we had in common. I was really very impressed at how well rounded he was. He knew a lot about everything. I liked him very much. You know, I have no idea what he was thinking most of that night. I think (I hope) it was good.
When he dropped me off I decided I didn't want to go out with him again. I didn't like that we had held hands on the first date. There were even moments when we had almost kissed! I was angry at myself for liking someone so much so quickly. Isn't it funny how we can be so sure that we know what we want, or don't want, and the whole time we have no idea?
Meanwhile, Brock was planning his next move...
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