And then...we met for lunch. I simply glided into the somewhat fancy restaurant that Carl had suggested, looking fabulous, and kissed him on the cheek as he shook my hand. He looked terribly nervous, which I thought was just charming.
We had soup and fish and talked and talked. He divorced three years ago and says he‘s not been dating that much as he‘s also busy looking after his two young children. Yes, bugger, he‘s nearing fifty and yet he has such young children, staying with him every other week. Oh well, I decided not to let it put me off though.
He turned out to be very intelligent and highly educated, both an academic and an administration type AND a hobby musician and writer! How perfect a combination is that?
I tried to seem not too impressed though, appearing to be a little reserved and modest (a new technique I‘m experimenting with). So I ignored several opportunities to show how witty I am and neither joked or teased him as much as I would ordinarily do, if I wasn‘t trying to impress a man.
I was just suitably passive and humble, fought the urge to pull out my purse when the bill arrived and allowed Carl to pay, as he seems to be one of those rare, old fashioned gentlemen.
Then he drove me home before going back to the office, said he‘d really like to see me again and asked whether I‘d have dinner with him this weekend. I of course accepted, as I find him very cute, very interesting and very charming. Then I gave him a feather light kiss on the lips and hopped out of the car.
I couldn‘t stop smiling for the rest of the day, called a couple of girlfriends and described the date to them in detail and then went shopping for a new dress. Yes, this man deserved a new, expensive dress for our proper date, no doubt about it.
Wound up buying a short, green patterned cocktail dress with spaghetti straps. Dead sexy. Hope Carl doesn‘t have some sort of a heart condition, this dress will most definitely cause a rise in his blood pressure...
Late that same evening I received a text message from Carl: 'Thank you for that kiss in the car. It was sweet, so are you. Good night.'
Aaaaaw...
Friday, April 27, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Getting Excited
Things usually happen when you least expect them.
Last Thursday night I went out with my friend Hannah. We‘d been so busy lately that we had neglected each other and so decided to go out for dinner and afterwards we went to a pub as there was still so much we needed to talk about.
At the pub however, I noticed a group of men, celebrating the birthday of one of them. But it wasn’t the birthday boy who caught my attention, but one of his mates. I’m not sure why, he’s quite ordinary but with big, blue eyes and a kind smile. And distinguished grey hair.
I watched him for a while. He was too engaged in conversations with his mates for me to be able to approach him. It was a very definite mid-week guys’ night out, an occasion when women need to absolutely stay away.
But I pointed him out to Hannah, who grinned and said ‘I know who he is!’
It turned out she couldn’t remember his name but she knew he’s the chief executive of a certain regulatory authority. And when I asked her how she knew she took a sip of her beer and casually replied: ‘My aunt dated him for a short while last summer.’
I almost choked on my drink. Was my attraction to older men turning my friends’ mothers and aunts into competition? Isn’t there something obscure about that? Hannah laughed at my expression and explained that her aunt was her mothers’ youngest sister and quite a babe, so it wasn’t as if he’d been dating a knitting granny-type wearing reading glasses and an apron. Which was exactly the image I’d gotten into my head as soon as I heard the word ‘aunt’.
I was intrigued and so when I got home, I did some research. After all, I am a journalist, I have my resources. I found out his name, Carl, and no evidence that since the time he'd dated Hannah’s aunt, he’d gotten engaged or married. So I was fully in the right to contact him, I thought. The worst thing that could happen would be he not being interested and/or already involved with someone.
So I just sent a short message to his office e-mail address:
‘Hello there. I saw you at the pub earlier tonight but you seemed to be having such a good time with your mates that I daren’t interrupt. But you caught my eye. You can find out more about me If you google my name. And if you’re interested after that, I’m open to meeting up, for a cup of coffee or something. Otherwise, I apologise for taking up your time and bid you a good life.’
There, how could anyone not be flattered at receiving such an e-mail? I went to bed quite pleased with myself, but not really expecting anything.
The next morning, he had already replied. In fact, he had replied at 2am: ‘Hello there. I’d be more than delighted to meet you. How about lunch tomorrow? My phone number is ...’
Last Thursday night I went out with my friend Hannah. We‘d been so busy lately that we had neglected each other and so decided to go out for dinner and afterwards we went to a pub as there was still so much we needed to talk about.
At the pub however, I noticed a group of men, celebrating the birthday of one of them. But it wasn’t the birthday boy who caught my attention, but one of his mates. I’m not sure why, he’s quite ordinary but with big, blue eyes and a kind smile. And distinguished grey hair.
I watched him for a while. He was too engaged in conversations with his mates for me to be able to approach him. It was a very definite mid-week guys’ night out, an occasion when women need to absolutely stay away.
But I pointed him out to Hannah, who grinned and said ‘I know who he is!’
It turned out she couldn’t remember his name but she knew he’s the chief executive of a certain regulatory authority. And when I asked her how she knew she took a sip of her beer and casually replied: ‘My aunt dated him for a short while last summer.’
I almost choked on my drink. Was my attraction to older men turning my friends’ mothers and aunts into competition? Isn’t there something obscure about that? Hannah laughed at my expression and explained that her aunt was her mothers’ youngest sister and quite a babe, so it wasn’t as if he’d been dating a knitting granny-type wearing reading glasses and an apron. Which was exactly the image I’d gotten into my head as soon as I heard the word ‘aunt’.
I was intrigued and so when I got home, I did some research. After all, I am a journalist, I have my resources. I found out his name, Carl, and no evidence that since the time he'd dated Hannah’s aunt, he’d gotten engaged or married. So I was fully in the right to contact him, I thought. The worst thing that could happen would be he not being interested and/or already involved with someone.
So I just sent a short message to his office e-mail address:
‘Hello there. I saw you at the pub earlier tonight but you seemed to be having such a good time with your mates that I daren’t interrupt. But you caught my eye. You can find out more about me If you google my name. And if you’re interested after that, I’m open to meeting up, for a cup of coffee or something. Otherwise, I apologise for taking up your time and bid you a good life.’
There, how could anyone not be flattered at receiving such an e-mail? I went to bed quite pleased with myself, but not really expecting anything.
The next morning, he had already replied. In fact, he had replied at 2am: ‘Hello there. I’d be more than delighted to meet you. How about lunch tomorrow? My phone number is ...’
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