Rooftop Picnic

Relationship drama never ends, it seems. A mere few months (more like weeks) ago, all my friends (and a few months before that, and I...) were in happy relationships, oblivious to the impending doom around us and the fact that all relationships but (ideally) one come to an end. I think all of us knew that we weren't in that one, but we fooled ourselves.

This post isn't about that. This post is the fact that we are now (almost) all trying to figure out how to date again.

So I've been looking back and remembering some of the best dates I've ever had.

Of course there's dinner and a movie, and there's always the awkward first date that may be some variation thereof. (My favorite personally was IMAX-3D, an unintentional tour of Boston, a subway ride, and dinner.)

My favorite dates, I cannot even remember the beginnings of, but I remember the endings. We had multiple dates that, regardless of where the night began, they ended walking through the back-streets and parks in Brookline near Coolidge Corner. (I remember only one date whose area was that particular area, but it was a favorite of hers to walk there. I liked it, too, if only because I liked to share her likes.

Most of the time, we ended up in these parks at night in months that it got cold after dark, but there was one time we made one of these a Sunday date.

We went into Coolidge Corner to go to a crafts show that one of her friend's was participating in. We stayed for a bit, I made nice, impressed her friend (read: got approved!), and then we escaped to the falafel place. We got our falafel (or whatever it is I got; I don't think I ever got falafel from there because I didn't like it all that much) and walked to find a place to sit and eat.

We walked for five or ten minutes, passed multiple occupied benches, and then she said, "Let's go to your car."

Now I was kind of unsure and not really in the mood to eat in my car, but when a pretty girl grabs me by the hand and tells me to go somewhere, I'm not one to pass up that opportunity. So I said, 'ok...' in a less than confident tone. (This is, after all, the girl with ideas crazier than mine and the sense of direction of a blind man reading a map.)

I gotta say, though, she was right. We got to my car -- a 1996 Volvo station wagon -- and she handed me her bag and said, 'hold this.' She stepped on the rear bumper and jumped up and sat on the roof.

I handed her the bags, got a bottle of water out of my car, handed that to her, and climbed up and sat next to her.

It's a good thing we were both light people, weighing in somewhere between 120 and 130 each (She, perhaps 10 pounds lighter than I.) as I don't know what a car roof can really take, but we, fortunately, were far from the limit. We got looks from passers-by, and she fearlessly defused the situation by saying, 'Don't worry; it's our car.' I don't think this is why people were confused, but it was enough for them to turn and walk the other way without a second look.

Probably the best picnic I've ever had, and without a question the most fun I've ever had on the roof of my car.

Almost makes me wish I had a car in New York City...

Almost.