I’m taking a weird and slightly different approach to my first date with Someone New. I’m going to give you an hour by hour rundown as it happens. A minute-taking, if you like, of my first date with this new chap. Now, I do appreciate I’m putting this date on quite the pedestal, but fuck it, good or bad, we’re in this together.
So, this is me at 5:44 pm. Our date was meant to have started somewhere around the 2/3 pm mark, but his meeting overran quite a bit and we’re now looking at meeting around 6:30 pm. Maybe even later than that. What started out as a lunchtime coffee has now turned into evening drinks and a bite to eat. I did want to avoid eating with the whole digestive problem going on, but whatever. I’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow. Let’s just get through today.
I got my nails done. I saw my counsellor for the first time today, the first of four sessions provided by my work to try and get me back on my feet. I cried the whole time. The counsellor guy thinks I’m depressed and could benefit from some antidepressants, but I’ll tell you where he can shove his poxy antidepressants. Up his ass. I’m going to fuck my way out of this slump. I’m so over being miserable and bouncing from one happy pill to another. Not that I’m going to fuck Someone New tonight, though. Never on a first date.
5:56pm – He’s having a nightmare with the trains in the Big City. I can see tonight not happening…
I’d be so annoyed if he bails! I’ve had a pretty decent day. I’m ready. I’m dressed. I‘m showered. I smell pretty. I bleached my hair yesterday. My nails look good. My makeup looks alright. I’m date-ready! I worked hard, watching what I ate ALL WEEK and making sure I went to see my therapist; I deserve this fucking date! I made sure I wasn’t sick for this date. Please don’t let all that hard work go to waste. Please! Give me a fucking break.
5:59pm – Shit. What happens if I don’t like him? What happens if he doesn’t look how I think he looks? Or he smells funny? Or he spits when he talks? I really hate dating, y’know.
6:24pm – Well, I’ve not heard from in a while. Is the date still going ahead? Fuck the Big City and its rush hour traffic. We decided on a pub for some food and a couple of glasses of wine. Fuck the antibiotics. Fuck my digestive problems.
7:14pm – Oh my god, he’s arriving at the destination in half an hour. I’ve got to meet him there. Train times – checked. I have fifteen minutes before I need to leave. I’m shitting myself. My insides are doing somersaults. I’m so nervous, it is beyond belief. I must remember not to get drunk. I must remember not to have more than one glass of wine because I’m on antibiotics. I must remember that I deliberately didn’t shave my vagina to ensure no first-date naughtiness. I can’t portray just how nervous I am. I really like this guy. I really hope it goes to plan. I really hope he’s not a dick. I really hope he’s everything I think he’s going to be.
7:49pm – Fuck. Time to get off the train. I don’t know if I’m ready to do this.
8:17pm – He’s in the toilet. We’ve just got to the bar. We’ve ordered soft drinks. We’re going to have wine over dinner. Wow, he’s super fit. Like, proper handsome. Those eyes. I keep stumbling over my words. What a prick I’m being. Its time to order food. Wine. More wine. Hopefully, the wine will settle me. Maybe there is some chemistry? Maybe I’m just nervous?
9:52pm – He’s in the toilet again. I really like him. I’m also pretty drunk. I’m currently halfway through my second glass of wine on an empty stomach and I only had a light salad because that’s the stupid kind of thing I do on first dates. There is chemistry between us, though. Am I rethinking my no-first-date-sex policy? No. Can’t. Don’t do it.
10:52pm – I’m home. I can’t talk right now. My head is all over the place. Also, I’m DRUNK.
11:40pm – He called me to thank me for a great evening already. That’s gotta be a good sign, right?
It’s now half past midnight. I’ve had a cup of tea and a sandwich to try and stop my spinning head. I cannot stop thinking about him. I’m in so much trouble right now. This is the last thing I need … I’m depressed! Actually depressed. I saw a counsellor today and he said I was depressed, yet I managed to go on a first date with a guy I’m almost one hundred percent sure I’m going to fall in love with.
I knew this first date would be a formality. The chat is far too good for there not to be chemistry, and when we walked to the station and I left him there, shit went down…
He held my hand on the way home. In fact, he didn’t: I reached out and held his hand. He asked me a week or so ago if I were a hand-holder and I said I didn’t know. I’ve never really held hands with a guy before. Jock was too short for me to do that. I can’t remember if Big Love and I held hands, although the fact I don’t remember it would suggest we didn’t. But I held his hand. Someone New’s hand. Yep, I made that move. He’d already done it over the table at dinner. Our hands were in close proximity and before I knew it, he’d reached his hand out and grabbed mine. It felt as if I had just grabbed a ball of fire. The touch almost made me jump.
When I hugged him at the station, a really nervous, awkward hug, it reminded me of that very first hug when we met at the beginning of the night. Clunky, awkward and actually kinda heartwarming. It became very evident that we were as nervous as each other. I bet we looked really cute. I couldn’t keep my shit together, and I definitely couldn’t look at him in the face. That’s how I know I really like someone: I can’t look at them in the eyes.
I ran to the bathroom a bit later on, and he sent me a cheeky text message: “You’ve got a really nice bum!”
I went to the bathroom twice, both times I ran back down the stairs towards him, I noticed that he was actually turned around to watch me return. Do you know how good that feels? To look at someone and realise that he’s not just looking at you, he’s turned around to make an effort to look at you. That’s not something that happens with many guys. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had that with any guy before.
He asked me why I wore I ring on my ‘ring finger’ and I decided to be honest with him – “OK, I lost weight and I get hit on a lot more now. It’s something I’m really not used to. I just tell them I’m engaged, it gets rid of most of them.”
He laughed, but then he told me how hot he thought I was and that he understood.
Back at the station, that clunky hug felt oh so good. I moved to look at him and he turned to look at me. He leaned in. I leaned up. The kiss happened. No tongues. It was just the first date after all, but it was still a kiss. A proper kiss. A perfect first date kiss. There was a lean, his arms were around my waist, mine around his shoulders. It was much briefer than I wanted, but just enough. I walked away and shouted “Goodnight” behind me, walking to the station without looking back once. It was the coolest move I’d ever played. I was so proud of myself. I knew he’d be watching me. And within a minute, he sent me this: “Is it wrong I wanna bring you back and kiss you?” Closely followed by: “You’re even better than I expected”.
Maybe this guy is my post-breakup ego-booster? Is that all it is? Whatever it is, there is seriously something there — and I want more of it. Fuck waiting until the fourth date to sleep with him. This is a definite third date situation. And if I’m totally honest, I don’t even want to wait that long.
So, there we are. The first date done. Someone New is every bit as enticing as I had hoped.
What are the chances?
Featured image by freestocks on Unsplash