The first date

I'm craving portabello mushrooms, which takes me back two full and complicated years.

Grasshopper, a kick ass vegan dig in Allston-Brighton (Mass). that served the best portabello mushroom and lemongrass combo.

Sayid and I went there on our first date. We both ordered hot and sour soup made with wheat gluten and tofu. We sipped our broth with alabaster bowl-spoons. The room was dimly lit and soft orchestral music played in the background. Sayid made small castles out of the stones and chop sticks that decorated every table. He asked me to make a wish on that castle. Called it a Berber tradition.

We split the mushrooms and lemongrass. I used chop sticks. Be laughed at my precociousness and reminded me that he'd get more with a fork, so I was losing out. We laughed...a lot.
When we stepped back out on Brighton Ave, he grabbed my hand, pulled me toward him and kissed me. Hard. Right on the street. His mouth tasted like Morocco -- sweet with a hint of tobacco.

We dropped in at The Model for a beer. I introduced him to the 'crack machine' and taught him to beat me at Tri-Towers, he lost at soccer.

Then, we did what couple friends do. We met my roommate and her date (Sayid's best friend) at 'Our House' (pub in Brighton) for drinks and conversation. We all stumbled home together. Nicole and Matt sweet and gushy, me and Sayid trailing behind talking about spiced tea and Halloween.

He nuzzled my neck, kissed my open palm, held my hand under the table, pulled me against him, kissed me beneath tree branches heavy with autumn rain. He staked his interest in me for each and every person to see.

So, no matter how it turned out, no matter that he became obssessive, possessive, demanding. He gave me my first real date at the ripe age of 23. That meant more to me than he will ever know.