I felt reluctant to go on last night’s date.  I matched with him on Bumble and we exchanged numbers after a day or so.  He seemed keener than I was, probably because my trust in people’s profiles had been depleted since my previous date.  We were texting for a week before we met!  This is way past my 3-day texting rule where I like to message for a few days, meet up and then decide (or have decided) ‘yes’ or ‘no’; not wasting very much time.

We had been texting back and forth and I was beginning to wonder whether it would be worth meeting up, or if this would ruin our lovely texting streak.

I decided it was worth the risk as I had no better plans for a Wednesday evening.

He was gorgeous – his photos didn’t do him justice.

Wow, this is rare.

He was friendly and bought me a drink.  We chatted and I giggled a lot.  But I couldn’t work out if he liked me because his eye-contact was a little lacklustre.  (As you know, I have a thing about eye-contact as my ex was more interested in his own reflection than my face).  We got on well, there seemed to be a flicker of a spark but I could have called it either way.

After two drinks, he suggested we go on to dinner, or at least more drinks.  Had this been a few months ago, before the Fuck Boy Incident, I would have been eager to go, but I chose to leave.  I didn’t need to get drunk and snog him for him to like me.  I definitely didn’t need to shag him for him to like me.  If he likes me, he’d like me after two drinks and a straight-forward date.  He was very gentlemanly and walked me to my car, despite it being in the opposite direction to his house.  We kissed on the cheek and I drove home wondering what to make of our evening.

Fortunately, it’s 24 hours later and he clearly did like me.  The constant texting has resumed and I hope another date is on the cards.

Photo by Jonathan J. Castellon on Unsplash