Last Sunday I made the quite frankly stupid decision to go on a date whilst suffering from Woman Flu. Which is like Man Flu – but real. In hindsight, hacking up phlegm over a vodka and Diet Coke is not the sexiest thing I’ve ever done.
So, The Gardener (for that is what he does,) is 29, about 5ft 11”, sandy coloured hair and gorgeous blue eyes with eyelashes that curled up and over his head. We’d been chatting on and off for a few weeks but didn’t really indulge in too much textual intercourse. He suggested that I wasn’t much of a texter – fact was, I just wanted to get on and date already. Too ill to be my usual witty self – at least in written form.
He’d originally asked me to meet him halfway at a pub nearer to him. After coughing up a lung, I asked if we could meet at my usual haunt round the corner from where I live. (Thinking about it, the bar staff probably think I’m a serial dater. Which, I guess I am. Moving on …)
And I can’t quite believe I’m going to type this but … HE WAS ACTUALLY ON TIME! No last minute phone call/text to say he was running late. In fact, he actually text me to say he was there and what did I want to drink?!
After texting in my order, which I shall now insist on doing with every date I go on, I got a cab and was there ten minutes later. (For the record, it’s OK for ME to be late.)
First impressions? I was a little disappointed if I’m honest. I just didn’t feel that immediate attraction to him, as nice looking as he was. But in for a penny, I kissed him hello (cheek not lips, no tongues,) and we began chatting.
We talked about philosophy and a shared love of literature and I liked the fact that he was a little different. Quite how we ended up talking about Polygamy, however, I’m not quite sure, but he was pretty fascinated by the subject. I think it was his ever-so-subtle way of telling me he didn’t want a relationship. That and the fact that he actually told me he didn’t want a relationship.
We had a nice evening but his body language was such that I really didn’t get the impression he fancied me at all. He was sat back in his chair, arms crossed and as well as the conversation went, there really was no flirting whatsoever. I was also very engrossed in the fact that he had furry ears – the light behind his head highlighted the hair on the outside of his ears and once I’d noticed, it was all I could look at.
He was very conscious of not catching my Woman Flu, and rightly so, but he offered me a lift home once last orders had been called so he can’t have been that bothered.
We got to my house and I had no intention of asking him in.
And then he kissed me.
And it took me completely by surprise. I’d imagined that a) he wouldn’t want to kiss me, b) I wouldn’t kiss him back and c) because there’d been no flirting, it would be crap. I don’t think it’s happened before (EVER,) but I was wrong on all counts.
So, after the kiss he text me on his way home and ‘joked’ that he wanted to turn round and come straight back. What can I say, I’m a good kisser …
It went quiet for a few days and then he sent me a text:
“Just texting to let you know I ain’t forgot ya. You OK?”
I made a quip about being hard to forget, then he went quiet again. Then I got this:
“Broke my ankle so won’t be out for a while.”
BEST. EXCUSE. EVER.
I wondered if it was an excuse but he then sent me a photo of his leg in plaster. Let him off.
We’ve spoken every day since and he has just text:
“I probably won’t be able to do much, but do you wanna pop round soon?”
And they say romance is dead.