Earlier this week, as I sat in the café post car accident, nursing my ‘severe whiplash’ with tea and toast (extra butter), my attention was caught by a seriously hot bearded man that walked into the café.
Oh. My. Way. Too. Hot.
I often talk about my love affair with beards … and have been known to date men based purely on their facial furniture.
Anyway, I was sat in the corner on the sofa, laptop out (not a euphemism) and he took a seat nearby, facing me.
I’d checked out the wedding ring finger (obviously) and it was bare. The signs were good. He took his jacket off as he sat down and I caught a glimpse of toned midriff. I felt a bit faint … for I am but a lady!
And then the eye contact began. Dang. I totally got The Feeling.
He looked at me and held my gaze a little longer than necessary before looking away – a classic flirting sign (to be fair, it’s probably the only one I know.) I looked back and did the same before casually sweeping my hair to one side.
Oh God I’m so pathetic.
And so it went on. I’d say for an hour, while we nursed our by now tepid lattes.
But herein lies the rub (I wish.) I had no way of knowing whether he was actually single or not and even if I did, what was I meant to do about it? Go and introduce myself? Wave to him like I’m out on day release? Go and ask for his number?
Who even does any of those things anymore!?!
When the time came for him to leave, he jumped up to open the door for an old lady coming in (he’s just too damn good to be true) and left.
I was bereft! OK, perhaps not bereft, but it’s not often I see hot men in my home town, believe me, and by now I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I saw him again as he walked past the café on the other side of the road, beard (metaphorically) blowing in the wind. I was in love/lust! And THEN … after I’d been to the bank, I saw him again as he walked past the cafe AGAIN! I couldn’t work out if he was hoping to see me or whether it was just coincidence but either way, I was besotted.
And I didn’t/couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Because that’s the thing about being a single woman … it’s just so bloody complicated sometimes. I would have looked like a right mental had I gone over to talk to him so I just sat there and did nothing. And no doubt I’ll never see him again.
Of course, you’re all going to tell me I should have gone over to him and said something … and if I ever DO see him again, I’d love your (cleanish) suggestions of what to say!
But for now, bearded man in red top and black jeans that fit ever so snugly … you made my day.