The title says it all …. I’ll let The Student tell you the rest!!!
Miss Twenty-Nine xxx
It’s happened; I’ve met the man of my dreams.
As usual with me I didn’t meet him in a very ‘romantic’ way; in fact I could barely remember what he looked like.
All I knew is that I’d woken up to a text from a guy I had a good feeling about.
I don’t normally respond to those 3am texts from ‘random guy at bar’ because no one really meets anyone half way decent at a bar in the wee hours, but as I say, there was a good feeling hidden in the depths of my hangover. Or maybe I was just feeling adventurous. Either way, in a manner that was uncharacteristic, I responded.
Cue a weekend of texts bouncing forward between this guy and me, and a date on the cards.
I didn’t have much free time last week as it was my final week in London over the Easter break so I was busy taking the last opportunities to see friends and I also had two evenings where I was expected on board the ship where I work. The mystery guy was hugely accommodating of my busy schedule, which is obviously very flattering, and so we agreed to go for a coffee before I had to be at work on Thursday.
Now I had a vague idea of who I thought this guy was based on my fuzzy memory of the night we met, so I was only slightly nervous of not recognising him. My memory understood him to be not my usual type. I had recollections of a slimly built, blond-haired guy who spoke as if he had attended public school. In the past my ‘type’ has normally been a stockier guy with dark hair: more of a ‘man’s man’. I like to feel as if the guy could throw me around the room a bit, if you catch my drift!
So on exiting Liverpool Street Station on Thursday afternoon I walked straight past my date. I saw him, suspected who he might be and panicked.
I panicked because he was a slimly built, extremely ginger guy.
I didn’t look properly at his face as I was too afraid, so in these moments I constructed a guy with equally small features. I began dreading the date. I stopped and hid to collect myself and shake myself out of being such a superficial bitch!
I strolled over to him with a smile on my face and was pleased to find that his features were more pleasing to me than the image I’d just created in my head. He greeted me warmly with a kiss on each cheek and we began a walk to Spitalfields Market to grab a coffee.
The next two and a half hours passed all too quickly as the coffee moved on to a drink at a nearby pub whilst we chatted non-stop and I reluctantly, and half-drunk, made my way to work nearly half an hour late.
I was buzzing for the rest of the afternoon – I’d literally just met my most perfect man! Ok, so the drink may have helped, but we had just clicked instantly.
One of those connections you can’t explain or justify, it’s just effortless.
He understood exactly who I was because he was the same, and vice versa.
He ticked so many of my boxes. Older? Check. Likes to cook? Check. (He used to be a chef) Likes to travel? Check. (Did two ski seasons and is French fluent.) Likes rugby? Check. (Told me about his injuries and told me he’d take me to Twickenham.)
But, I wasn’t attracted to him.
As much as I was excited and interested in the guy I had just met, I didn’t know if I wanted to date him. As much as I’d enjoyed myself, I’d been left with a few things to puzzle over, and potentially a long time to puzzle over them, as we weren’t expecting to meet again until I was done with University, in five weeks’ time.
The day of our date was also the same day I was to be faced with The Wrestler again after he’d spent the past month in Melbourne for a wrestling show. So to add to my confusion I was confronted with a guy that I find myself almost unbearably attracted to.
The next day, Friday, I found myself lucking out with the evening off work. So I decided to use the opportunity to see if I could find myself attracted to this guy with the perfect personality – 24 hours later we were on Date Number Two.
Once again he managed to understand exactly who I was, this time by completely accidentally taking me on one of my most perfect dates. We met at Embankment and walked to Strand where he decided to take me to the ‘not-so secret’ cocktail bar no bigger than your average living room – The Cellar Door, where drinkers are entertained by burlesque performances as they sip at their cocktails.
Dream come true, I love to watch other women take their clothes off when I’m on a date. Work that one out, Freud!
Anyway, we sampled much of the menu (their Espresso Martini is particularly fantastic, as is their Sidecar) and once again, the conversation was unstoppable. Four or five (I lose count…) cocktails later and we decide to find some food as I hadn’t actually eaten since lunch and was beginning to become concerned that I might get too drunk, which is never ideal – I’ve actually forgotten the end of a first date before… So we headed to Soho where we had more Espresso Martinis and shared a steak at 1am in a restaurant packed full of tourists and Londoners who’d clearly found an appetite too.
Again, It was perfect. Cocktails, cabaret and a steak, what could be better?!
I then, inexplicably, found myself in the garden of his Barbican flat. His garden is a lake. In the middle of London there is a block of flats that holds in its centre a man-made lake with walkways covered by gorgeous flora. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of his garden that I cried. I cried on our second date at the sheer beauty of nature. How mortifying!
A sobering cup of tea later and he was booking me a cab home. He paid for my cab from Barbican to my home in North London. What a gent.
We kissed before the cab arrived. But I still felt no physical attraction. I’d seen The Wrestler that day and the evening before and felt huge surges of attraction to him, but couldn’t muster any for the guy that had just treated me to the most wonderful evening. God, I felt awful.
I’d had one of my best dates. He’d worked out exactly who I was and without really intending it had figured out exactly how and where I’d like to spend an evening. He seemed to know precisely who I was without knowing any real facts about me. It was amazing.
I’ve found the ‘One’. Problem is, I don’t fancy him!