But this time would be very different. The entire process would be the same, but I’d be with someone who had never experienced any of it before. People would ask questions about who she was, and the sharp ones would make the connection pretty quickly. She’d probably get more attention than I would.

But I couldn’t figure out exactly what was bothering me. I didn’t worry that she’d mess anything up, or that she’d be poorly received by the press. She might not be Hollywood beautiful, but she was pretty, and all done up for the evening she’d probably look great.

I did wonder whether or not she’d like the movie. I was proud of it, and I knew the director and other actors had been pleased with the outcome. But it was, in all honesty, a chick flick, so the chances of her not liking it were pretty small.

So what was the deal?

That evening Sean, one of the guys Todd and I hung out with, came over to watch the Lakers game, and during a commercial break he asked if she was still coming to the premiere the next evening.

“Yes, she is. And for some reason, I’m extremely nervous.”

“Seriously?” He chuckled.

“Yeah. Bizarre, isn’t it?”

He sipped his beer and thought for a minute. “Well, not that bizarre. I mean, you barely know her. It’s gonna be a long drive back up to the city from her place. Could be awkward. She’s an outsider to this whole thing; she may think it’s awesome, she may think it’s ridiculous.” He shrugged. “First-date jitters.”

I laughed and almost spilled my beer. “First-date jitters? This isn’t a date, though.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Then what is it?”

Good question.

Sean could practically see the wheels turning in my head. “How deep is your denial, buddy?” he laughed as he stood from the couch to head for the kitchen.

“Well—But its really not a date.” Sean glared at me from the fridge. “I’m serious! A date means you’re interested in dating someone. A date is a precursor to a relationship. Or at least sex. This isn’t any of that.”

“Well then, what is it?”

“It’s—Quick, the game’s back on.” Sean grabbed another beer and lunged back to the couch. Lakers were up 45 to the Pistons’ 38 with two minutes to go, and Sean was a die-hard fan.

“So what is it?”

“Hold on, I’m still thinking,” I mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

All right. So what was it? I was convinced it wasn’t a date. But if it wasn’t a date, there weren’t a whole lot of other things it could be.