"Get it girl!"
Have funnnn!"
"Yeah lots and lots of funnnnn! hahahahahahaha"
"You better call tomorrow, chick. We want updates!!!"
"Bye, ladies. Love ya!" I called back as I descended the stairs in the restaurant, leaving my BK crew to continue to enjoy dinner without me. Only moments before, I received the text I had been waiting for all week: "I'm outside on the corner. " Each step my silver peep toe shoes took reverberated in my stomach. I can't lie. The refuge of the butterflies must be in the pit of my stomach. Before the doorman could open the door for my exit, I checked my lip gloss (it was shinin') and smoothed the invisible wrinkles out of my green, black, and silver mini-dress. I took a deep breath and step forward, motioning for the doorman to open the door.

"Hmmm. You're not leaving all by yourself, are you? Do you need a taxi?"
"No, ummm, I'm meeting ummm someone. But ummm thanks, anyway."

While it registered that the doorman was indeed checking me out, it wasn't his approving eye that mattered. I scanned the street, looking. I slowly walked to the corner (those glasses of sangria were the TRUTH!). As I approached the intersection, I scanned each immediate corner. He said "on the corner" so where is he? I stood on the corner for what felt like an eternity. And then I saw him, halfway down the block. Standing almost as tall as the No Parking sign he was leaning on. Waiting for me. Inwardly, I squeal. I crossed the street as the butterflies inside soared. I saw that fleeting "Wow" I was looking for in the arch of his eyebrows. The city block felt like an ocean and time seem to moving at a snails pace. But my mind was racing. Where do I look? Do I continue to lock eyes with him as I approach? No, silly, look away, look away before he sees the butterflies. So I look up. No silly, you look like a tourist doing that; someone is gonna jack your purse. Okay, so I look straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. This isn't a runway and you are not America's Next Top Model, chick. Okay, pull yourself together girl; you're almost there. He strides over to end my anxious walk and envelopes me in an all consuming embrace. Hmmmm, he smells good, like the fragrance of a candle I once loved, only manlier, sexier. He steps back and laughs.

"We match." He chuckled.
"We what?!"
"We match. Look!"

As I gaze up at his green polo shirt and down at his black pants, I realize exactly what he was talking about.
Could this be a sign??
I laugh as the butterflies escape into the summer night.