My date gifted me a red backpack. Our relationship didn't last, but I've had the backpack for 20 years now.

• I had a great date with a blonde photographer 20 years ago, when I was in my 20s.
• He gifted me a red backpack, full of homemade goods and wine.

Not every great date ends in a relationship. However, this one did come with a backpack that has lasted me for decades.

I can't even remember his name, yet he'll go down in my memory as one of the best dates I would ever have. Blond and fun-loving, he was a professional photographer. Kelty — the camping gear brand — was a client of his, and at the time, he was given two of everything — one to photograph and one to try out.

When he picked me up and opened my door, he pointed to a beautiful red Kelty backpack sitting there on the seat. He'd packed it full with a homemade picnic dinner and a bottle of wine sticking out of the top. Now, I'm an outdoorsy girl, born and raised in Colorado. This man was speaking my language. He, unprompted, told me the backpack was mine.

Our date was so fun

I'm pretty sure he had a truck. With the radio blasting, we slowly climbed the famous Lookout Mountain just outside Golden, Colorado. It's a local trek reserved for die-hard bikers and teenagers looking for a spot to make out. It comes complete with stretches of narrow roads, long drops, and a view of the city lights. I giggled, feeling like I was back in high school.

The conversation was easy. We laughed, swapping stories about a long-ago amusement park that never quite made it and the awkward complexities of dating on Match. This was over 20 years ago, and online dating wasn't a thing yet. We were bucking the trend of so many others also in their magical prime of wanting to find "the one" who met through more traditional methods like mutual friends and summer BBQs.

We kissed, but I knew he wasn't the one for me

While we shared a few kisses that night, I knew he wasn't the one for me. But what stuck with me all these years later was our playfulness with each other.

Back in the car, he and I played an impromptu game of "name that tune." One by one, we'd allow the other to hear only a note or two of what was playing on the radio, and then we'd quickly turn the dial and try and guess the song. All pretenses of a date slipped away, and two strangers just had fun. I stopped worrying about what he thought of me while I tossed out every song, name, and band I thought I knew.

A lot has happened in the 20 years since that date, but I still have the backpack

Various dates with others came next, then an ex-boyfriend, then marriage, children, and divorce.

I lost so much of myself in those next 20 years. Yet my unrequited playfulness remained somewhere buried inside. The red backpack followed me through a couple of 14ers — climbing a mountain that goes past 14,000 in elevation, fabulous girl's weekends, a honeymoon in New Zealand, and chasing after my toddlers.

When I look back, I can only smile. I've found a new life partner. While we love each other completely, we both know we couldn't have made it work had we dated earlier in our lives. Those painful heartbreaks and abandoned dreams forced us to grow, question, and simply be. I found myself again, and by doing so, I found him.