Unlike many of my recent dating encounters, this one came along rather as they say so often in
Was this handsome feller flirting? No profile pic to review first, no “about me” section to filter thru, no photos of him posing with his dog or on a hike at the peak. Instead, I knew right away with this sly beer drop gesture that he was right down my alley.
Organically the night moved into more libations with colleagues where emails and phones numbers were exchanged professionally with heavy date innuendo. The following few days were filled with silly phone calls and text messages as we set up our master date.
Honest Abe arrived 5 – 10 min late. Lucky for him parking is hard to come by on a sunny day on my street, so I let him slide.
I think because this was one of the few dates in the past year that was asked out on in “Real life” and not on match.com, I was particularly nervous. I must have changed outfits 3 or 4 times and even sought out male-roommate-cute-outfit advice. After settling on snug tan shorts, a tribal halter top, brown wedges and denim jacket I applied my reddest llip gloss, a few splashes of Betsy Johnson and I felt like the best datable form of myself.
Honest Abe is also Mr. Red shiny BMW, perhaps to match my lip gloss. Little did I know that aside from our kismet matching lip and lacquer colour, Honest Abe would then take me on the best AND worst first date ever.
I was greeted by a reassuring “O good I’m still attracted to you hug”. Nice. As we approached the shiny speedster, he tossed out a few suggestions for dinner, sushi, Indian, Chinese …. Or the Ben Harper concert in
To Be Continued.