Surprise me.

Last night, I did something that I haven't done in almost a year. It's nothing bad, I promise. In fact, it is quite the opposite.

Last night, I went on a date.

It was not formal or serious, it was just a casual, go-out-for-dessert-and-chat type of date. Now, this may have been the case, but that still didn't change the fact that my heart was beating a good 2x faster than usual for the four days leading up to it. I found myself thinking about it at the most random times, planning my outfit when I probably should have been doing homework, sneakily texting him at the dinner table and smiling down at my phone constantly.

Finally, the night had come. He parked his white pickup truck on the side of our street and knocked on the door. He was right on time. A few minutes early, actually, which I found impressive. When I walked into the living room, he was sitting on the couch playing tug-of-war with both of my dogs. That never happens. My two Jack-Russell Terriers are notorious for biting ankles, barking, and growling at strangers who walk through the door. This time, though, it was different. Not only did they refrain from attacking him, they liked him! I am a firm believer that animals have incredibly good instincts, and for that reason I will trust their judgement more than I trust my own. I did not know what the night ahead of me entailed, but at that moment I knew it would be a good one.

So now, the date. I will spare you from having to listen to me gush about every little detail-- the way he laughs, his smile, those eyes, blah, blah, blah. No. That is not why I am writing this, and it was not even that type of date. We simply talked and enjoyed each other's company. Actually, he did about eighty percent of the talking. I loved that. I have always been on the quieter side, so carrying a conversation is not exactly a strength of mine. He, however, is the total opposite. If you let him, he could probably give you a forty-five minute speech about the movie he went to last week.

We spent several minutes looking at the dessert menu, trying to decide what to order. He asked me what I wanted. All I could manage was a, "hmm. . ." My eyes grew wider with every word I read: banana cream pie, chocolate cake, cream puffs, ice cream sundaes. It was all too much.

Finally, I looked up at him and said, "You know what? Surprise me. I trust you."

Did I really just say that? Did those words just come out of my mouth? Well apparently they did, because about ten minutes later, a giant piece of Dutch apple pie with a baseball-sized scoop of ice cream had landed on the table between us.

Some time later, our waiter took the nearly empty plate of pie away, and brought us the check (which he paid for!). It was not until we were on our way out that door that I realized what had just happened. I just shared a huge, sugary, delicious slice of apple pie and a scoop of ice cream with someone, and I didn't even care. The entire night, I did not let a single food-realted thought dominate my mind. I did not think about how much I had eaten, what I had eaten, or even the way in which I ate the pie. The words we exchanged between bites of pie and ice cream were so much more important.

This is how life should be. This is how I want to spend my precious days on this earth. Not consumed by thoughts of self-hatred and feelings of anxiety. That is no way to live. I want to take care of my body so that I may continue to have these moments. These are the moments will mold my life into something I can be proud of and truly happy with.

If ice cream and apple pie is what it takes to make that happen, then so be it. That is a challenge my taste buds and I are more than willing willing to accept. I mean, let's be honest. How could anyone say no to a scrumptious slice of Dutch apple pie a la mode? From now on, I know I sure won't.