A few weeks ago, I had one of the funniest first dates. A met a girl at a bookstore who was buying a book and we started talking. When talking about hobbies, she told me that she likes to do clay shooting in Bristol, and that it would be nice if I could join her for her next session. I told her that I didn’t know anything about shooting, but I would be glad to join her, and we agreed to meet at the shooting range that weekend. Of all the places to have a date, a shooting range wasn’t the first on my list.
Since I was a novice at shooting, the girl told me that she would show me how to do it. She positioned the gun in my hands and stood behind me. It was one of those classic moves that people usually do in movies when they want to flirt with a person, except instead of a guy doing it to a girl, it was a girl doing it to a guy. I didn’t mind that she was doing it. A clay pigeon launched in the air, and I took a shot. The shot hit and I was thrilled. The rest of the day was pretty much the girl and I flirting while taking shots at the pigeons.
We had worked up quite an appetite while shooting, so we went to a restaurant for dinner. We both had been going to the same restaurant for years, but never bumped into each other. The date went so well that we decided to see each other again, meeting at the same shooting range to shoot at the clay pigeons once more. In the short time that I’ve been shooting, I’ve developed quite a fondness for it. The girl might have something to do with that.