Why on earth did I agree to this? I wonder if he’s a psychopath. Why can’t he find a date without his friends’ help? Why can’t I find a date without my friends’ help? What if he walks into the bar, sees me and leaves?
These were just some of the thoughts going through my head as I was getting ready for my first ever blind date.
But really, I shouldn’t have worried – because the night was a resounding success. It went so well in fact, that I think was borderline obsessed with him.
Let me explain. After six years of being single, my mates were sick of me being their sad, heartbroken friend so they decided to set me up with a guy who would be “perfect for me” and after my fifth – and fatal – glass of Chardonnay I agreed to the set-up.
The next morning I woke up, grabbed my phone to call and withdraw my consent to this plan only to find that it had already been arranged and that my date, Braide, would be meeting me at the pre-arranged bar at 7pm. Arrrrgh!
He didn’t speak too much about himself; he seemed more interested in letting me natter away. And did I. Hmmm.
The night started the same way I’m sure a million other dates have; we did the awkward introduction thing and then proceeded to order copious amounts of cocktails at the bar to ease any silences. This was bound to be a disaster.
But I was wrong. As the night went on, we chit-chatted easily about work, our taste in music and our plans for the summer. I discovered he played rugby and had travelled and done some volunteer work. Best of all, he didn’t speak too much about himself; he seemed more interested in letting me natter away and laughed at all of my not-so-funny anecdotes. Great.
All of a sudden, I looked at my watch and it was 10:3opm. Oh em gee (OMG), I had actually managed to have a successful, real-life date, I thought, and with a genuinely sound bloke, who seemed to into me as much as I liked him.
He reached for my hand kissed it. And Immediately, I thought, what a perfect gentleman.
As the night wrapped up, Braide offered to make sure I got home safely and hailed us a cab.
We pulled up outside my flat, and just as I was getting all geared up to invite him in for the night, he leaned over and kissed me.
Yes, I thought, I know where this is leading, but, to my surprise he pulled away.
“We should do this again some time,” he said. Some time?! Some time?! What about now?! Gutted, I got out of the car and waved goodbye to him, feeling a slight sick feeling in my stomach.
I spent the next few days checking my Facebook mails and texts, expecting a message but there was nothing from him. Damn.
Then, just when I had given up hope, bing – “Hey, what’s up? Fancy meeting up for a coffee on Saturday? No worries if not. Braide.” Result!
I’ll now spend the next few days analysing this text and allowing all my girlfriends to do the same.