Sometimes things don’t go they way you either hoped to or expected. I don’t believe that someone can plan a relationship; I’m a firm believer of whatever happens happens and that’s what happened. With my holiday romance/potential new relationship over it was time to get back on the dating horse.
The boat-man had caught wind that I was back in the country and with him fresh off the sailing boat from Antigua – no joke, he invited me out. Now I did have my reservations. We did have a nice date back in November but my socks weren’t blown off and his keenness did make me feel slightly uncomfortable and put my guard up. I thought I’d approach this evening in a different matter. A few months had gone by, we hadn’t had that much contact over that period, he was aware that I had been seeing someone else so I thought all would be fine.
We met up at Old Street after work both in need of some food and he walked me round the corner to a little tapas bar. This place was great. Small, quirky, modern yet a little bit rough around the edges. All the tables had been reserved but the waitress said we could sit at the bar and there were two bar stools available. I thought it was perfect, tapas is more fun at the bar anyway but I could see he wanted to pull back and perhaps try and find some place else. I, perhaps in my slightly bossy way commandeered the date by thanking the waitress and heading over to the bar. Perched on the corner, both sat quite close together, which was a good thing because he can talk rather quietly, we proceeded to catch up.
The waitress came over to take our drinks orders and having noticed the girls sitting next to us drinking red wine out of what looked like glass tumblers, decided that wine was not for me. The boat-man ordered a glass of red, naturally presumed that I would have one too but I actually fancied an Estrella to be drunk rather commonly out of the bottle! Now I’m not sure whether I was deliberately trying to show the differences between us or whether I was really being myself but I didn’t have my guard up this time. What he saw was really what we would get. The waitress came round again to take our food order and I, yet again took over the situation, although I did ask if he had any dish preferences, but ordered four dishes that I thought would work well together but would still be a bit of a surprise, as is the fun with ordering tapas.
The food arrived, as did our small plates to put it on. His plate wasn’t dirty but the porcelain was stained. I saw him turn his nose up at it. I just smiled. We ate, the food was nice. It was actually cooked behind the bar so you could see it all happening. The bar was busy yet laid back, there was a bit of music in the background and the atmosphere in the place was great. We finished the food, I had half finished my beer when he looked at his watch and said that he had reserved a table for us at a bar round the corner. I was actually disappointed. I really wanted to stay at the tapas bar but he quickly paid up and we left.
A short walk round the corner and down some stairs and we find ourselves in what can only be described as 1920s France. A very dark bar, plushly decorated in deep purple and brown, art deco bronze tables and a small bar where cocktails were being subtly shaken. The menu was full of elaborate cocktails, each around the £9 (100kr) mark and I just didn’t know what to chose. I picked a drink, we both sat there chatting whilst some French fashionista was crooning in the background. It was a nice bar but just too fancy pants for me. I appreciate that he’d gone to the trouble of reserving a table for us to enjoy the evening but I was perfectly happy in the previous place.
Anyway, we had a nice evening but I think he realised by the end of the night that I wasn’t really interested in him. He offered me a lift back to London Bridge to catch my train but I politely declined on three reasons. One, the cocktails were strong, he’d had a glass of wine too and was likely to be over the limit. Two, I never trust cars, taxis or buses in central London to get me where I need to be on time. I had at this point around twenty minutes until my last train left and I didn’t want to get stuck in traffic when I knew I could make the journey easily and on time on the tube. And thirdly, I didn’t want the awkwardness of being in a car with him and having to say an awkward good bye and thank you for the lift at the station. So he walked me back to the tube, we had a hug good bye, possibly a kiss on the cheek, I can’t actually remember, it obviously didn’t make that much of an impression on me and I went on my way. No contact from him since and I think he’s come to realise that perhaps we are really from different worlds and I’ll forever be too much of a rough diamond for his upper echelons of society!
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