I thought things with Jock might fizzle out after a few days of chit-chatting, but the exact opposite has happened. We haven’t stopped talking. The girl who didn’t have time for a relationship is now seemingly considering a relationship with a man that lives a 45-minute drive away… and now, she needs to ‘fess up and tell you the tale of the 11-hour first date.
Yes, you did read that correctly: the ELEVEN-HOUR first date.
That’s gotta break some sort of record, surely?
A Jock-Ish Date Offer
“I’d like to take you out on a date,” he said, his Jock-ish accent sounding like music to my ears. I love his accent. I can’t get enough of it. I married a man with a Jock-ish accent, once upon a time, but that’s another story for another day.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Where are you taking me? You’d best make it lots of fun.”
He threw a couple of ideas at me, and we settled on the arcades. Because why wouldn’t a 20-something and a 30-something want to spend their very first date in the seaside arcades? Not just the arcades, though; paddling in the sea, eating ice creams, and frolicking in the sunshine, too.
I don’t know about you, but that’s actually my idea of a perfect summer first date, to be honest.
Date Day
I was nervous as hell before the date. I knew that I already like-liked him, but there were elements of his photos that made me… uneasy? It felt, to me, that he could be just as unattractive [to me] as attractive, and it would all rest on that first meeting.
But what if I got there, then didn’t find him attractive?!
In the end, I figured I had nothing to lose, really. I wasn’t looking for love, right? I was meant to be focusing on myself, getting my life back on track, and deleting those damn dating apps.
Things just didn’t quite go that way.
But if Jock wasn’t for me, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. In fact, it would actually make life a lot easier right now.
First Impressions
He’s a little older than the photos on his dating profile would’ve led you to believe, but that’s almost to be expected with men these days – particularly older men, looking for younger women… which is a category that Jock and I fell neatly into.
I think he’s a little shorter than he said on his profile, too… but again, there’s no real surprise there, to be honest.
He’s every bit as hairy as he looks – and you know how much I love a hairy man. If you don’t know: I really, really, really do love a hairy man.
At the beginning of the date, I wasn’t sure if I found him attractive – just like in his pictures, he was both potentially attractive and unattractive, all at once. As the date progressed, though… well, my attraction towards him started to grow, then never stopped growing.
But we’ll get to that in a moment.
Arcades (and Kids)
“I’ll win you a cuddly toy, no problems,” he boasted, rolling up his sleeves and popping money into the grabber machine.
“You’ll never win it,” I smirked. “Not like that, anyway.”
“Like what?!”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t have an answer. I was just winding him up to see what would happen. He played along like the fantastic sport he was, but as predicted he didn’t win me the cuddly toy.
“Let me handle this,” I said, rolling up my own sleeves and throwing a bunch of coins in.
It took me two attempts, but eventually, I won my own cuddly toy. Who needs a man, anyway? I also appeared to be on some sort of roll, because I won two more cuddly toys after that, one of which I decided to donate to his step-kid.
Because, yes, he has one of those.
Not ideal, but he’s funny and great company, so I reckon I could make it work.
We drank cups of tea and coffee, ate multiple ice creams, and had the best time in the arcades. He was better at me at the shooting games, which was no surprise. I was better than him at the leaning motorbike racing games, which is ironic, as I’m the only of us who can’t ride a bike. We laughed and played and mocked each other for hours. Time literally just zoomed away from us.
I found myself thinking, I don’t want this date to end.
And then, I found myself thinking, Why don’t I just tell him that?
“Fancy doing something else now?” Jock asked me, as the crowds in the arcades started to thin out.
I grinned the biggest grin I’ve ever grinned. “Yes!”
He almost surprised by my enthusiasm. I wasn’t embarrassed, though. I probably should’ve been, but I wanted to spend the whole damn night with that man. The next day, too. Forever even, perhaps?
Bars (and Friends)
We went to a bar not far from my house for a few drinks. A friend of mine works there, so I figured it made sense to get one awkward hello out of the way. My friends are a big part of my life, after all. It went as well as to be expected… and as awkward as you’d think, too. I don’t think my friend likes Jock very much, but he hid it pretty well. He normally has a lot to say about my love life and barely said anything at all, which says everything.
The friend worked while we sat in a corner booth and chatted, getting to know one another a little better. The more we talked, the more I found myself drawn to him. His ocean-blue eyes sparkled with secrets that he couldn’t wait to tell me – and I couldn’t wait to hear! I gazed into them more than once that night, trying to work out what he was thinking, feeling, anything.
Truth be told, Jock is/as impossible to read.
He didn’t hold my hand or try to kiss me, nor did he rest his hand on my leg or the base of my spine. There were no real ‘protective’ moves; though, he did walk on the roadside of the path, so I was on the protected inner side. Aside from that, though, there were no sultry looks or whispered smuttery. There was flirting with words, but no actions or body language.
It was weird… and I didn’t know what to make of it.
Did he like me? Honestly, I was starting to think that he liked me as just a friend. Our ‘date’ felt like a fun arrangement between two friends. There were no little touches, no shared lusty glances, no nothing.
From him, anyway…
The End of the Date
I asked him to drop me off around the corner from my house. If he didn’t like me, I didn’t want him to know my address for no reason. I wanted him to like me, though. I’d basically fallen head-over-heels in love with him over the course of our eleven-hour date.
I grabbed my bag and thanked him for the fantastic date after waiting for a moment. It was his opportunity to lean in and kiss me, compliment me, something… but he didn’t. So, I reached opened the door and started to get out.
“Hang on,” he drawled, the words sending a huge smile across my face.
He’d made me work for it, so I sat back down and offered him my cheek, giggling all the while. He laughed at that, then cupped my cheek with his hand, a move that sent butterflies soaring in all sorts of ways inside me. He leaned, I leaned… and then we kissed.
And kissed.
And kissed a bit more.
*grins*
I really love the way he kisses me. So much so, in fact, that I actually smiled into his mouth, which made him laugh into mine. It’s hardly romantic, but it kinda was. It felt romantic. Cute-romantic, you know?
I gave him a parting kiss before getting out of the car and making my way around the corner, to my house. I wanted so badly to turn around, but I played it cool. I didn’t turn around.
But I smiled so hard that my cheeks hurt the whole damn way.
Here we go again, folks.
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: This is Not a Drill.
Thank you so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
Would you like to read all about Jock’s story, right from the very beginning? You’ll find that right here.
You can also read all about my disastrous dating history, right from the beginning, right here: Table of Dating Contents.
Alternatively, why not have a little peek around here:
