It was with some slight trepidation that I made my way to a great little Fitzrovia bar for my first date with Sports Nut – partly because the all-day drizzle had done horrible things to my hair, and partly because I haven’t been on a good date in far longer than I care to admit to. But once I arrived to find a gratifyingly attractive man sitting at the bar, my misgivings faded away and I settled into enjoying my evening.
A glass of wine later, and the conversation was flowing. We ordered tapas, and tried to swat away an over-attentive waitress as we talked about almost as much as it’s possible to cover on a first date – family, friends, jobs, education, life passions, travelling, even exes which, as all single types know, is a topic that’s inadvisable to discuss whilst in the early stages of dating, but somehow it seemed okay; even his double-take having thought he'd seen his most recent one didn't cause too much panic.
And, just as I had relaxed into my comfort zone (otherwise known as the bottom of a second glass of red), Sports Nut hit me with the information I’d been dreading: he’d read the blog.
“Well, er, I do have an advantage here, I suppose. I’ve read your '99 things',” he said, smiling as I apparently pulled a face. “Don’t worry – it was interesting. And there’s nothing too incriminating in there...” He topped up my wine. My heart fell slightly, but if he’d read any of the rest then he was well-mannered enough not to let on.
I haven't had a good first date in a vastly long time, so it is possible that my frame of reference is skewed. But I don’t think so. The date was good. Not in a long time have I met someone new whom I click with so effortlessly. I checked explicitly that Sports Nut’s single and not interested in boys - with my track record, one never can be too careful. The fact that he is witty, charming, and rather easy on the eye was just the icing on the date.
We nibbled, drank and chat for as long as we could get away with before we were chucked out in the charming table-turning way that London has.
“I, er... Do you have time for another?” Sports Nut said as we drained the last of our wine. “I don’t quite feel like wrapping up just yet.”
Leaning over to look at his watch (a bonus of not wearing one’s own), I nodded. “Absolutely.”
A short while later, we found ourselves in another location, where I was on the caiprinhas, and Sports Nut was busy teaching the staff how to mix his perfect drink.
I’ve been drinking long enough to know that I should have quit whilst I was ahead. As it was, the amount of booze I’d consumed, combined with Sport Nut’s charisma, was enough to make me lose any sense of social propriety: by the end of the night, he and I were snogging like teenagers. In public.
Embarrassing? Yes. Uncool? Yes. Hot? Absolutely.
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