So, the first two first dates I went on were more or less what I expected- fun enough, but also easy to let it go after just one. Unfortunately, this third one was a bit different. I actually quite liked him. Shit.
We agreed to meet up last night at 7 in Covent Garden for drinks. I was at a work do beforehand and briefly considered “wouldn’t it be funny if I showed up drunk to my date…” but decided against it. I got there on time, and waited for about 10 minutes before I started getting slightly annoyed. Texted him to say I was there. It turned out he already was as well and we just hadn’t recognised each other.
So this guy: I had a good feeling about him before I met him, maybe it was the distinctly “not weird or obsessive” vibe that set him apart from the other candidates. He’s 32, works in something vaguely politics-related, and is tall. Very tall. 6’6, in fact. And quite handsome. Adorable Northern accent. Great smile. Sigh.
We had a pint at the Porterhouse– it was really busy, especially for a Wednesday night, but finally we found a spot to perch. It only took about 5 minutes before he admitted to how much he knew about me by googling me. I jokingly accused him of being a stalker, but let’s be honest, I would have done the same had he not had such a common name. Unfortunately for me, it turns out I am the only person with my name on the internet, and I am plastered all over it. I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t have anything to hide.
We got on really well immediately. We told stories about terrible first dates (I told him about the Auto Show Date, and he told me about once when he discovered a date rifling through his bag to make sure he wasn’t a spy). He ended an 11 year relationship only a year ago… hence the interest in the *just a first date* concept. We talked a lot about politics and definitely have a lot in common work/interests-wise.
Note to self: you cannot drink as much or as fast as a 6’6 tall man. Got drunk. Relatively quickly. But I think (hope) I kept my composure. After a couple of drinks we left to get dinner. Outside the bar, he leaned down and kissed me… mmmm. Aside from the awkwardness involved in kissing someone over a foot taller than me, it was really good. I had definitely wanted to do that since I met him. I’m getting that butterfly-y feeling in my stomach thinking about it now. Eeee.
We went to Wahaca around the corner for Mexican food. (I am slightly obsessed with burritos. Definitely the #1 thing I miss about the states.) This of course also included margaritas. I have to admit, it’s a bit fuzzy from that point. But I do know that a. I texted a friend of mine saying how well the date was going, and I am near positive he saw it over my shoulder as he returned from the toilet and b. I didn’t end up finishing my food because I was too busy talking. I hope I said anything interesting. Or at least coherent.
We didn’t leave the restaurant until past midnight, and apparently it didn’t occur to me that oh yeah, I had to work the next day, because we ended up at Belushi’s, of all places, for a last drink. He had paid for everything else throughout the date but let me get this one (thank you). We didn’t even drink them, anyway, though, because we spent awhile longer just makin’ out. It started to rain a bit and he pushed me into a doorway, held me against the wall. It was all very, very sexy. He asked me to come home with him but I declined, much as I didn’t want the evening to end.
Ahhh I wish he hadn’t been so great! When emailing each other beforehand to plan the date, he had asked when we should meet up to “crash and burn in a spectacular fashion”. Unfortunately there was no crashing. Even less burning. It was actually just a really great first date, with someone that I would totally like to see again.
He texted while I was on the bus ride home and joked that he *might* consider to extending to a 2nd even so that we can collectively screw it up. I promised that if given the chance, I would do my very best to fuck up.
I’m not sure how much longer I can continue doing this. Having gone out drinking twice on weeknights this week, I am SHATTERED. And seriously, it is not easy to meet someone who’s attractive, has a great sense of humour, is confident and well educated and interesting… and think, welp, that was fun, but that was enough. I sure do wish he had more than just the “long term ex” fatal flaw. He was annoyingly awesome.