Always. 

He always liked them.

To some extent it was luck. Contacts were big, so the girls that wore glasses tended to be just a little different.

Cheerleaders didn't wear glasses. Not a one. But look at their moms and you knew their future. Maybe it was the midwest, but the moms were a bit ..... robust of figure. For lack of a better term.

The surface was as much as the primordial teen brain could take in. Never mind the imagination to see a bit deeper. 

Like high cheek bones. A figure that might be a little angular but would fill out to perfection.

That was a while ago. Now? He still liked them.

Like this girl. Woman.

If he was physically attracted, in his mind, they were girls. He could deftly censor his speech, but not mental images that had become fixed when it was an utterly appropriate description.

So this date. Jesus - what was he doing dating at his age?

Routine and low key. Art opening. A little food. Tasting menu. 

Early. 

Took her home. Parked in front. Kissed her.

Talked a little.

Laughed.

She casually removed her glasses and put them in a case, then her purse.

It was the same. Always.

That was the moment.

He could never tell exactly how it would play out. But he knew the answer.

The moment she removed her glasses.

The answer was yes.