The Perfect Date

So we keep on meeting and we flirt but not too openly because that would be crass and I’m a lady. Yes I said it. Who knows who else he has in his life and goodness knows there are enough idiots in mine so nothing happens and time marches on until 2012 arrives.

Then out of the blue I get a missed call from a number I don’t know. Not unusual as you know me and my phones are parted regularly. I still mourn the loss of my pink flip blackberry in 2010. I call back and it’s HIM! I don’t even have time to be nervous as he quickly gets done with the small talk and asks if I want to meet up for a drink that night.

Hmmmm, this is awkward as I do have a 3 day + 3 hour pre date routine that must be booked in advance but…he’s cute and I really wasn’t looking forward to yet another night of Come Dine With Me on 4OD. Any show that makes me feel like I would stand a good chance of winning Masterchef can’t be healthy right? So I say yes. I don’t even have time to call my friends to bash out outfit choices and strategies as we are meeting in 2.5 hours. This is a major panic stations moment.

I take an executive decision. A cab so that I can wear ridiculously silly heels that make my legs look slim yet shapely enough that they won’t break. I don’t want him thinking I’m one of those delicate woman. Then again he’s seen me command a buffet table at a networking event. He knows I eat.

I look at the hair…not enough time to wash and blow dry but do I wig it or no? Eventually I drag out the hairdryer and straighteners. I’m going to have to make time for this. Don’t be fooled by the name. Natural hair can be such a bitch to manage at moments like this. It has its own schedule.

Then I go through the inevitable debate…will he be coming home with me? I know my precious it’s too soon but I can move surprisingly fast when inspired or drunk. Don’t judge. So I quickly change the bedding, chuck everything into the spare room (I must get a lock for that room) and decide to give the legs and flange a quick once over for luck. Chances are if I commit to hair removal then I’m coming home solo.  It’s like a jinx.

Then there is that inevitable crisis of confidence. What if this isn’t even a date!?! I mean he said a drink. He may be trying to broker some sort of business relationship. Whilst my bank manager will welcome this news can I really go into business with someone I want to see naked?  Hmmm, maybe I need to rethink the fuchsia short dress which screams take me off. Instead I go for that always ready black dress with the small waist for extra definition. Yep, I look edible. Quick spray of Tresor and I’m ready!

I hail a cab Carrie Bradshaw stylee. This is why I love my area. There are an abundance of opportunities to play dress up and not have to take the tube. I arrive with minutes to spare. Enough time to check out where the bathrooms are and work out which cocktail will get me relaxed but not ridiculously tipsy before he walks in. Yep best stay away from the tequila. He’s looking fabulous in a suit that looks like it was made just for him he walks over and does the European double cheek kiss before sitting down. There’s a look, we both laugh and the night begins. I know it was a good night because neither of us looked at our phones once. And you know how much I love my phone.

Drinks were amazing. I can’t fault Lover’s Lounge for its cocktails. Somehow drinks turned into dinner and before you know it the end of the night comes and he suggests that he takes me home. I say a little prayer to the dating goddesses that I had the foresight to clean up and skip to the nearest cab. Up to now I’ve offered to pay but have been turned down. “My treat,” he says and I melt. We get to mine and he walks me to my door and ….he refuses to come in. WHAT!

I try not to show my disappointment and smile sweetly instead. I thank my mother for those drama lessons when I was 10 as I had to dig deep to pull this one off. He rewards me with the simplest of kisses. You know those kisses my precious where it starts in your toes and liquid pools into your…yeah there. I sigh happily. Then he says he has to go. I’m tempted to say really but…I know this is not the time. Besides I stuck to my 3-total on the cocktails. I wonder how he’s going to get a cab at this time but somehow I know he has a plan. He is a man with a plan I will just have to trust it. I know I have to play this one out more carefully. He says he’ll call tomorrow. I shrug, give one my flutter of the eyelashesand walk into the warm hug my flat always gives me. Then I squeal with happiness.

Normally this is the point where I call the gang but today I just want to enjoy it and snuggle down into my lekky blanket with highlights from the night. I write in my diary and go to sleep. And the next morning, well hello, he calls!  And thus begins a beautiful dating story

Of course this is all a story. It never happened because sadly I don’t live in the movies I watch but just once it would be nice if it did.

Happy Dating!

© Chelsea Black