Seven Date Me

Planning our adventurous date was something I had to get onto early. As you can expect, you can’t just up and decide to go hang gliding one day. It needs to be planned in advanced, and it certainly isn’t cheap. I knew Gerard liked hang gliding, but I wasn’t going to organise that because I wanted to do something different that he may not have done before, something more special. Luckily for me, I had a good friend that was able to help me organise something awesome.

After I had secured my seven dates with Gerard the previous Wednesday I phoned my good friend Bob Bryar. He moved into my street from Chicago when he was ten and I was eight. We went to the same schools, where he was basically my bodyguard. We hadn’t seen much of each other since he graduated from high school, but we’d keep in touch through the occasional phone call, text, or email.

So just why did I call him? Well, a couple of years after he finished school Bob went on to start his own business. A hot air balloon business. When I had realised I’d need to plan something adventurous for our second date that was the first thing that came to mind. Ordinarily, something like that would have cost five hundred dollars or more, but because I’d know Bob for so long he was kind enough to give Gerard and I a free ride. Explaining the situation wasn’t easy, though.

“Bob’s Balloons, you’ve got Bob.”

“Blonde beard Bob! It’s Frank – long time no talk.”

“Yeah,” he replied fondly. “Who do you need me to beat up now?”

The question didn’t surprise me – I’ve called him up for that very reason more than once in my lifetime. I informed him that his knuckles would remain unbruised for once, then went on to tell him about Gerard. It was hard explaining the personality disorder, especially because at the time I knew very little about it myself, but in the end I managed to make Bob understand.

“So what has all this got to do with me?” Bob asked when I finished describing Saturday for the third time.

“Monday is when Gerard is adventurous; what could be more adventurous than a hot air balloon ride at sunset?” I told him. “Also, the friends and family discount would make it far cheaper than any other adventurous activity that I can think of.”

“So, really you’d be using me for my hot air balloon,” Bob said slowly. “Well, while I should be offended, if it means you’re going to get laid for once then I’ll help you out.”

“I’m not going to sleep with him!”

“Hey, be adventurous.”

Bob was the kind of person who thought that all men should get laid, whether it be with a woman, man, or beast – he drew the line at dogs, though. If you walked up to him in a bar and asked him to be your wingman he would jump up and go straight to it. That’s why I knew that getting a balloon ride for basically nothing was highly likely. But I had no intention of sleeping with Gerard at all during those seven dates. Why? Because I wanted to wait until we were in love before we made love. So, you know, date eight.

I picked Gerard up from his house that Monday afternoon around four o’clock. I was nervous about seeing where he lived for the first time – home court advantage and all that – but I was pleasantly surprised when I pulled up. The house was a small one storey bungalow, yellow in colour, with a separate garage beside it. It had a large covered porch at the front with a swinging chair suspended in the corner. From outside it looked to be only a one bedroom place, but later on I learnt it was actually two; Gerard used the second room as a study.

Once I’d evaluated his house, I got out of my car and walked up to the front door. There was no doorbell so I knocked loudly and waited. It only took a few seconds for Gerard to appear at the door. He was smiling broadly and didn’t hesitate to pull me in for a hug. The gestured caught me off guard and it took me a second before I returned his hug.

“Where are we off to then, Frankie?” Gerard asked me; he was in the process of ushering me out the door and locking it behind us.

“It’s a surprise,” I replied teasingly. “All you need to know is that at least one of us will be totally out of their comfort zone today.”

“A comfort zone is just an excuse we give people to avoid the things we’re told will scare us.”

That one sentence from him has stuck in my mind from the moment he said it. It sounded like it could be a famous quote from some philosopher or something, but when I got home after our date that day I Googled it; those words were all him. I knew from that moment that our seven dates weren’t just going to push Gerard; they were going to push me, too, perhaps more so than him. But that one sentence also gave me the courage to continue and it would later become the driving force of this experiment.

We drove for a while, out toward the Delaware River. During the drive Gerard and I spoke about the kinds of things he had done before on his bold and adventurous Tuesdays. He mentioned a lot of, scary, eye opening things, but thankfully hot air ballooning wasn’t among them. I wanted that date to be memorable – you’d think taking someone up in a balloon as would be enough – however his experiences were so vast and daring that I wasn’t sure it would even register in comparison. The man had swum with sharks, skydived, entered a mechanical bull riding tournament in Texas, taken helicopter lessons, and had joined the mile high club – how I could anything I do top that?

“Oh, please tell me we’re going up in that!” Gerard exclaimed excitedly when the hot air balloon came into view.

“You bet,” I replied. Recalling his previous experiences, I then nervously asked, “Does this fit the ‘bold and adventurous’ description?”

“Are you kidding?” he asked, a broad smile across his face. “I’ve never even thought of doing this!”

That was enough encouragement for me to dismiss my earlier worries of this not being the right kind of date for today. I continued down the road, taking a gravel turnoff to the fields where Bob’s Balloons was. I parked my car in the designated parking lot and got out. Gerard, excited by what we were about to do, was out of the car before I had the chance to be a gentlemen and open his door for him. I lead him down to Bob’s office – a small shed where he’d give you the safety lecture before you went up in the air.

“Frankenstein!” Bob called out when I walked into the office. “Oh yeah...” he said upon spotting Gerard beside me, “welcome to Bob’s Balloons. I’m Bob. Are you ready to fly tonight?”

One doesn’t generally expect that kind of greeting from a man who looks like Bob; he is quite tall with blonde hair and a matching beard, his lip pierced. See, Bob’s girlfriend told him to give people an ‘experience’. That one line was as far as he went with it all really; his old opening line was ‘Yeah?’, so it wasn’t hard to improve it. No one could really control Bob Bryar, but he liked to let his girlfriend think that she did.

I introduced Gerard to Bob quickly, hoping that it would prevent the blonde man from doing anything to embarrass me. It didn’t, though. He winked and sent me a cheeky grin after he shook Gerard’s hand. To this day I’m certain that Gerard noticed that look, but he never said anything about it. Bob then proceeded to give us the safety lecture.

“Okay, so basically balloon starts on ground, goes up, across, then back down,” he began, walking around from the counter and heading for the door. “As long as you can climb into the basket without help then you’re good to fly – that might be a problem for you, Frankenstein.” That was simply a dig at my height; I could actually climb into the gondola. “I can’t take you up if you’ve been scuba diving, but as Frankenstein is afraid of water that shouldn’t be a problem. No alcohol of drugs while in the air. You can take photos, but I ain’t replacing the camera if you drop it. And then there’s the whole don’t touch what you don’t understand thing, and keep your hands and feet inside at all times.”

His speech over, Bob took us to his balloon and showed us how to get in and out of the basket. Gerard climbed in and then I followed. When we were safely inside Bob pointed out a few of the features like the burner and sandbags, then gave a brief explanation of how the whole thing worked. I didn’t pay much attention to that because I was too concerned about the fact that I, a man afraid of heights, was about to be miles above the ground in what was essentially a giant clothes hamper. Gerard was lapping it all up, though. He asked questions about the balloon and where he could take lessons to fly one himself.

“Alright, we ready?” Bob asked when Gerard was finally satisfied with the answers he’d been given.

We both nodded, Gerard more excitedly than myself.

“This is going to be fucking awesome!” Gerard enthused.

My fear of heights prevented me from expressing the same sentiment. I watched on nervously as Bob fiddled with the controls, while Gerard took the procedure in. When the balloon finally started to rise I involuntarily took a step forward; despite the basket being more than half my height, I still feared falling overboard. Bob was smirking at my obvious discomfort, Gerard however was gazing over the side of the basket as the ground below us got further away and taking photos with his iPhone.

“Frankie! Come take a look at this!” Gerard shouted at me, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Yeah, Frankie, go take a look,” Bob said mockingly. He had that evil smile on his face; he knew how scared of heights I was.

“Oh, I can see perfectly fine from here,” I replied through gritted teeth, looking directly at Bob.

“Some things are better enjoyed up close and personal,” he retorted quickly.

Before I had a chance to kick Bob in the shin for that double entendre Gerard snatched my hand and dragged me toward him. He wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me to his side tightly, and pointed at the river below us.

“Isn’t it glorious?” he asked me. “All those people on boats and canoes are so small.”

“Uh, sure, sure,” I replied hurriedly. Honestly, I was looking down at the basket instead of over the edge.

“You’re scared of heights, aren’t you?” he asked a moment later, a playful smile twitching on his thin cherry coloured lips.

If I could have thought of a good lie at that moment I would have, but really what excuse could there be other than a fear of heights for not looking at the scenery while flying in a hot air balloon. Gerard would have overlooked anything I told him anyway. For him, Monday was a day for new experiences, no matter how terrified they made you.

“You’ve got to embrace the nightmare!” He held his arms out wide, gesturing to the vast open area before us.

“Acrophobia is a widely recogni–”

He suddenly pushed me forward until my pelvis and abdomen were pressed against the wicker basket, then stood behind me so I couldn’t step back. His hands went to the sides of my head and clamped it in place so it was tilted down slightly. I had no choice but to look at the fields and river below.

“See? There’s nothing to worry about – it’s perfectly safe,” he said calmly. “Come on, tell me I’m right.”

“You’re right.”

And he was. The view was spectacular. There was an array of colours – greens, oranges, pinks, purples – all around us like a painted canvas. The people below us looked like ants, but there was something magic about being able to watch them unnoticed; it was like that whole fly on the wall thing. I was loving it. Don’t get me wrong, my fear of heights was in no way cured, but I was at least able to enjoy ballooning as long as Gerard was holding on to me. He made me feel safe.

We stayed up in the air for about an hour before Bob slowly lowered us back down to the ground. Gerard milked the experience for everything it had – looking at the view from each side of the basket, asking questions, taking photos. I only moved from my spot when Gerard pulled me along with him to see something new. Each step caused my heart to race, but in the end I was grateful for each one because I’d got to see so many beautiful and interesting things. In fact, when it was time to climb out after the flight I was a little reluctant. Not even all the winks and sly, knowing looks Bob had given me was enough for me to want to get out.

“What now?” Gerard asked; he was bouncing up and down like a child.

“We’ll head back to the office,” Bob said, already on his way down the field.

Gerard sped up and ended up walk ahead of both of us. The beautiful view from the hot air balloon at sunset was quickly being rivalled by that of Gerard’s backside in tight black jeans. I was hypnotised by his swaying hips until Bob slowed his pace so he was walking next me.

“You enjoyed that didn’t you?” he said suggestively when Gerard was out of earshot. I assume he meant the balloon ride and not what I was currently doing.

I sent him a warning look. “Keep your voice down.” I double checked that Gerard wasn’t listening, then said, “I only liked the part where Gerard was standing behind me.”

“I guess I should get a bigger basket so you’ve got room to bend over.”

“Or a privacy screen so you don’t have to watch,” Gerard called out to Bob.

Damn Bob and his big loud mouth. My cheeks went a dark crimson with the knowledge that Gerard had heard Bob and I implying that I wanted to have sex with him in that balloon. Noticing my embarrassment, Gerard poked his tongue out at me seductively and sent me a wink. It was sexy as hell, don’t get me wrong, but it only caused me to blush more.

When we got back to the office Bob gave us a bottle of fancy French champagne and sent us on our way. Usually after one of his flights he would take people out to a different area for a champagne picnic, but seeing as he saved me so much money as it was, he was only giving us the bottle. I was kind of glad for that anyway as a picnic didn’t really fit the bold and adventurous bill that I needed on a Monday.

I drove Gerard back to his house. On the way we talked about everything we had seen from up in the air and he quizzed me about my fear of heights. Unfortunately for me, his solution to my phobia was to go skydiving or hang gliding. To this day, I have never tried either.

“Thanks for such an awesome date, Frankie,” Gerard said when I pulled up out the front of his house.

“You’re wel–”

I was cut off by Gerard’s lips colliding with mine. He clamped his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me in closer to him so he could kiss me more passionately. I was stunned by the sudden kiss, so it took me a moment to respond, but the second my brain kicked into gear I was kissing him back with as much vigour as he was using to kissing me. His tongue slipped into my mouth a battled with mine; he was quick to dominate me because his fingers creeping under my shirt had distracted me.

After a solid two minutes of making out, he pulled back, kissed me swiftly, and said, “Until tomorrow, Frankie.”