Another crazy week. My beautiful, polite and courteous boss left and we all went drinking. A superb old chum and I caught up and we all went drinking. A friend back from America? We all went drinking. A potentially good date and I? Yup. It was something like a dream. I was so late for him, too. The sweet, calm, introspective, intelligent man and I had arranged to meet at 8pm. I had a quick drink after work with a wonderful work pal who is being really supportively brilliant at work and another fabulous work chum, and was running and texting late. I sort of thought I'd make it for about 9ish. After a farce with a cab and various other things colluding to prevent me from making a happy entrance (although at least something large and heavy didn't just drop out of the sky and smash the back window of the taxi, scattering teeny tiny bits of broken glass all over me, like it did the other night and I had to wait for hours to be a witness for the police and couldn't explain what it was that dropped on to the back window at all and have given out my number and agreed to have my statement read in court, if it came to that, etc) I finally turned up, around 10pm.
He was sat reading. Of course he was. This, for once, was someone I had connected well with on the date site and is a writer and loves books and is, most importantly for me, my blooming age. I tried not to faff in, in a drama, and I got good red wine, but in doing so, found out a pianist, who I love, was working behind the bar, and was accidentally, hopefully only initially, inattentive to my poor date.
Late and inattentive? I'm such a great catch.
But he was sweet and calm and nice. And I watched him nervously fingering the stem of his glass and wondered if he smoked and had kept it off his profile. So I suggested we go outside. And he did smoke, and he relaxed at least as much as I did and we drank the wine and grinned a lot. Fine light rain hit our cheeks and taxis beetled past. And it was good to talk to someone who wasn't trying to get me into bed. It was good to feel that, for the first time in absolutely ages, someone was interested in what I had to say.
And he kissed me goodbye on the cheek as I sped off in another cab, wary of drinking on a work night, and then he text me the sweetest text: "Of course I would have waited for you".
How blooming rare is that ? Two days later I receive an email wanting to meet up again. I'm actually surprised, I really am.
So. I suggest another night. I am nervous. I was care free and casual the first time, as I had no preconceptions and low expectations. Now, agh, god I will babble like a fool and probably end up chucking my drink down me.
And you know what the really, really worst thing about all of that is? I don't think I fancy him. You would know this, by now, wouldn't you? I mean, isn't that something you don't have to think about?
Agh.
He was sat reading. Of course he was. This, for once, was someone I had connected well with on the date site and is a writer and loves books and is, most importantly for me, my blooming age. I tried not to faff in, in a drama, and I got good red wine, but in doing so, found out a pianist, who I love, was working behind the bar, and was accidentally, hopefully only initially, inattentive to my poor date.
Late and inattentive? I'm such a great catch.
But he was sweet and calm and nice. And I watched him nervously fingering the stem of his glass and wondered if he smoked and had kept it off his profile. So I suggested we go outside. And he did smoke, and he relaxed at least as much as I did and we drank the wine and grinned a lot. Fine light rain hit our cheeks and taxis beetled past. And it was good to talk to someone who wasn't trying to get me into bed. It was good to feel that, for the first time in absolutely ages, someone was interested in what I had to say.
And he kissed me goodbye on the cheek as I sped off in another cab, wary of drinking on a work night, and then he text me the sweetest text: "Of course I would have waited for you".
How blooming rare is that ? Two days later I receive an email wanting to meet up again. I'm actually surprised, I really am.
So. I suggest another night. I am nervous. I was care free and casual the first time, as I had no preconceptions and low expectations. Now, agh, god I will babble like a fool and probably end up chucking my drink down me.
And you know what the really, really worst thing about all of that is? I don't think I fancy him. You would know this, by now, wouldn't you? I mean, isn't that something you don't have to think about?
Agh.
Oh noooo! Oh dear oh dear and it was going so well. It's no good though if it isn't there--I've got myself into some awkward situations trying to urge physical attraction to magic itself up when it isn't there. Sorry to hear that S! x
ReplyDelete*Like*
ReplyDeleteHm, i'm not sure what I think about his being so laid back about your being so late and inattentive - sure everyone deserves a chance, but i think if I stuck around and waited for a date who was two hours late, I'd have a bit of a wall built up already, then the inattentiveness might have tipped me over the edge and the date to an early finish. Is he desperate? Is he a pushover? Did he fall in love the moment you walked through the door? Hm, perhaps he was just impressed with how cooly you acted about the whole thing. I'm not sure. Not knowing you or him, how could I conclude!? You definitely need to go on a second date with him. People are different on second dates. You sound like you will be ;)
ReplyDeleteLooby - I tend to agree
ReplyDeleteBen - hello !
Sillywrong etc - wasn't actually 2 hours late, just 2 hours later than we'd originally arranged... but you're probably right that a 2nd date is at least worth going for, even if, in my opinion, we only become friends
Ha! I like someone too! Isn't fancying fun, yet frustrating! Bravo for us!
ReplyDelete