Courier Guy – First Date

It’s taken me a few days to write this blog post which I’m assuming isn’t a great thing. I can’t usually wait to write up exciting events such as first dates but this time, I didn’t want to shout about it. I don’t really know why. It wasn’t a bad date. In fact, it was a pretty good date. I just don’t know how I feel about it. Or about him.

Courier Guy was every bit as tall as he said he was, his 6-foot-something towering over my little 5-foot-3 frame, and he was the perfect gentleman too – pulling out my chair, holding open his van door … Yes, that’s right. He came to pick me up in his big white van. I went on a date with yet another van man. Brown Eyes had a big van too. It must be a new thing for me?

He wore a t-shirt, jeans that probably could have done with being a bit longer but I won’t hold it against him, and brown brogues. Actual brown brogues. With pink socks too. Hey, at least he has a sense of humour. I love a guy who can rock a funky pair of socks! He didn’t look bad, definitely not the worst-dressed guy I’ve ever come across, but when he turned around and I caught a glimpse of his butt, I realised he didn’t have one. I don’t know how to say this in the nicest possible way but I think he might have old-man-butt. Flat, shapeless, nothing there. I never realised I was such a butt girl before but when I saw his, I wanted a different butt. How superficial?

He looked handsome. Not conventionally attractive but handsome. Older than he looked in his pictures but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I seem to be heavily attracted to older men right now – at least a decade older. Just like the last few men I’ve dated, Courier Guy was 15 years my senior. (Recap: No ex-wife, no kids, single for 12 years apart from one little ten-week fling.)

‘Winging it’ as always, plans were left right to the last minute and instead of meeting at a nearby train station as I’d hoped but due to timing, I stubbornly agreed him coming to me would be easier and quicker. I gave him my postcode but refused to give him a house number, saying I’d meet him outside. He seemed nice but you never know, you know? He might be a crazy axe-murderer. Or he could just be a crazy nut job. Lord knows I’ve found myself enough of those over the years.

Once safely seated in his big white van, he drove, ignoring the places I suggested and instead getting us hopelessly lost. He was taking us to the seaside but went in completely the wrong direction and in the end, we ended up at one of the places I had FIRST mentioned. The whole first hour of our date was spent driving around, listening to his sat-nav, and me trying not to giggle as he swore once again at the dodgy directions it gave us. Ignoring my directions too, I might add. My neck of the woods mate, I know where I’m going. (Ish.)

We did eventually find a pub where we had a couple of drinks. He paid, always good on a first date. I’m an equality kinda girl but I do still appreciate it when a man pays on a first date. We drank and chatted, the conversation flowing easily enough but sometimes I found myself repeating what I’d said and there were awkward silences. The banter was great, don’t get me wrong, but it just wasn’t the easiest or breeziest of first dates, especially compared to some of my others. It’s hardly in the same league as getting stoned in the park and having a bloody brilliant time.

It wasn’t until we made our way back to the van to head home (shortest date I’ve ever had – two and a half hours, almost an hour of that spent lost), that I started to see him as a potential person-of-interest, and that was only because he kissed me. He asked if he could kiss me, “Miss, I’m going to kiss you now. Would that be okay?”, and I nodded. Then he did. Light at first but increasing with intensity, he had one hand at the back of my head, fingers intertwined with my hair and he really kissed me – a kiss that made me feel wanted. It was a really good kiss. A really good one. I swooned a little. But he didn’t ignite the kind of passion inside me that Brown Eyes did.

I usually know very quickly whether or not I really like someone, and I like Courier Guy but I just don’t think I like him enough. Perhaps he’s been friend-zoned? I like hanging out with him, I had fun with him. But could I imagine us in bed together? Do I want to tear his clothes off? Does he make me shiver with just a look? No. And I know those moments and feelings exist because I’ve had them so you can’t tell me I’m hoping for the impossible.

But then there’s the thing that I’m not allowed to say. I’m rebounding clearly. I’m not ready to date anyone. If Robert Downey Jr. walked in right now I still wouldn’t be ready to date. My heart is wounded. I miss him. Brown Eyes I mean. I still miss him. I don’t let myself think about him but sometimes it happens and when it does, it really hurts. How does it still hurt? Why? He was in and out of my life in the blink of an eye so why is it still him I’m thinking about?

It’s not that I don’t want to date Courier Guy. I don’t want to date anyone. I haven’t been on Tinder or PoF. I’m not interested in anyone else. I’m not looking for anyone else. I don’t know what I find attractive because when I close my eyes and really think about it, Brown Eyes is the only thing that comes up. Physically, he was beautiful. Not perfect by any means but something about the two of us together just fit perfectly. Imperfectly perfect. The thought of feeling his naked skin on mine makes me drool. Still. That’s the kind of connection I want. I’m not looking for just meh.

I don’t want to miss him. I’m really trying really hard not to and some days, I do just fine but on others, it’s like I fall apart a little. I’m so angry at him for the way he spoke to me, for the way he made me feel. He never once apologised. That’s what I keep saying to myself every time I think about texting him or sending him a cheeky email. I couldn’t text him even if I wanted to. I don’t have his number anymore. But every time I think about it, I just remember how much hurt he made me feel and how hard he pushed me away. I fell for this guy hook, line and sinker because he told me he’d never do that to me. And he did … Twice. If I’d meant that much to him, he wouldn’t have made me feel like that. Or, at the very least, he’d have apologised once he realised how much he hurt me. Or maybe that’s just what I would do? That’s the kind of man I’m looking for – someone who can admit when they’re in the wrong, and take steps to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Oh, and knows how to appropriately make-up for his wrongdoings too. You know the drill – great sex for me, chocolate, new shoes, perfume, etc. Fickle bitch I might be, but I’m really not that difficult to understand.

Well, I guess I’ve just solved my own issue then. I know exactly how I feel about Courier Guy – he’s just not the right guy for me. Just like Someone New. I knew early but I chose to ignore the niggling feeling … twice. I really like to double-tick that mistake eh?

I also know I’m not ready to date anyone else yet. Fuck it. My heart hurts and even though it’s dumb to be so upset over someone who wasn’t around for long, I’m not too proud to admit I DO need time to get over him. I’m such a girl sometimes.

Technically I reckon that makes my first date with Courier Guy a success. Just not for him.