Right Guy Wrong Timing

It was September and I was giving up on a trialling month on Match.com. The adverts were and still are everywhere, in between Made in Chelsea, on my commute to work, billboards in central, everywhere. So one night I was with my sister and brother in law on my match account moaning “I just give up, there are just no more good men left” until they took my laptop and decided to have a search. They filtered the search by language, ok – speaks Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, Greek (usually the types I go for, and clearly the wrong type). So as we start filtering the list of men who appeared, there was one cute guy who stood out to me from the rest. He had very short hair and had a Wentworth Miller (Prison Break) look to him with the kindest eyes. He was hot and had a cute profile blurb, so I ok’d them for me to make the first move (of course it wasn’t me who wrote the first message, I couldn’t bring myself to do it), but they wrote something witty and he replied. So we got chatting to what ended up on Whatsapp quite shortly after. He arranged a date and a week later we met outside Bounce in Holborn. As a first impression, he was a littler shorter than expected but so good looking and just like he looked in his profile.

So we got inside and ordered a drink, I got an Aperol Spritz and insisted on him to try one (it’s my Mediterranean bossy side). Instantly there was a spark and as conversation flowed I found out he too was a ‘Britalian’ (British born to Italian parents), something that we had common ground on. We played a round of ping pong, a sport I’m pretty shit at to be honest, but pretended to be an expert and we flirted loads. As the game ended we walked over towards the pizza booths and he grabbed my hand. And that’s where the term fanny flutters originates.

Fanny Flutters

[N] Noun:  That spark felt everywhere

So we sat down to order some food from the menu (which I literally cannot stop raving about –they do A-mazing Pizzas), we got talking about careers and ambitions, and whilst I was rambling away passionately about having a job with value and purpose, he kissed me. The chemistry was intense and it was as if we had been dating for months, feeding each other pizza. If I had seen us as an outsider, I would have been thinking please can you just go home and make out. Haha. So we left the evening parting at Chancery lane station. I thought I was in love, or in lust at least. I hadn’t remembered that feeling since my first boyfriend, who ended up cheating, but I’ll leave that at that.

So for the second date we decided to go the First Dates restaurant. The Paternoster Chop House in St Pauls. To be quite honest, not having being greeted by French Fred, I was majorly disappointed to learn quickly that they are only actors. That Fred is certainly a guilty French pleasure of mine. I wasn’t disappointed by the date however. We met and just like in the series, my coat was taken and we were ushered to the table. Again conversation flowed and we talked about everything from places we wanted to go to, to bucket lists to do together. Notice the ‘we’. The food arrived and we just looked at each other. Teeny tiny portions which was clearly zoomed in on in the show, but we laughed and had that similar thought of ‘where’s the rest of it’? After the date, I was thinking I could see us being together like actual boyfriend and girlfriend. He mentioned he wanted to take me to Florence and it just seemed natural between us.

Third date, I thought right let me organise this one, I’m a massive fan of Yplan and DesignMyNight and wanted to do something a little different. I found The Wedding Date which was an immersive dining comedy at a hotel in Leicester Square and it was definitely a ‘different’ date, to which my dad still says I scared him off with. Thanks Dad, always one for honesty. So we got to the venue and it was as if we were guests at someone’s wedding. When we got there I could see on his face, him awkwardly looking like, ha erm what is this? But a couple of minutes in he seemed to have relaxed a little. We were sat at a round table with 6 other strangers. The set up made it seem like we were together and quite frankly I loved it. The food was mediocre, as expected with an immersive comedy show, but the wine was flowing and it was a really fun evening. A bottle of wine in and half way through the show we were hugging and talking, saying to each other how it just felt easy and how it felt like we were together, when he said, do you want to be my girlfriend? I got home that night, obviously my parents (the night owls) were still up and my sister and her husband were over, eagerly awaiting for the debrief as I got home, that’s Mediterranean family’s for you, and I got in quite drunk announcing ‘ I have a boyfriendddddddd’.

My head was very sore the next morning, but I woke up smiling & happy remembering last night. I went to grab my phone from under my pillow expecting a text or whatsapp, but nada. Hmm maybe I’m being needy and maybe he’s asleep or maybe he’s just at work, give it to midday. So I was at my crap temping job, on a hangover, and constantly looking at my phone. Nothing. I went through the night’s events in my head and wondered what the fuck had I done that he was acting odd. We chatted constantly and now it had changed. After an agonizing 3 hours of waiting, I gave in and messaged him. Turned out he wasn’t ready. He had been cheated on 5 months previously by his fiancé with a mutual friend. He said he wasn’t ready to get into something so soon. My heart sank. Having had such shit luck in dating I thought finally. But as much as I liked him, I had never mentioned about being together, he did. When he messaged he wasn’t ready, there was nothing to respond with. What could I say? I understood, I too took a very long time to get over a cheating ex and I didn’t want to be a rebound. So I had a cry, took it on the chin, and moved on.

A year on and more shit dates, a work colleague suggested going to Bounce after work for drinks the other month and it instantly reminded me of him and that date. So, like most girls do – and don’t lie, we all do it, I searched him on Facebook. In a relationship. A part of me had hoped he would have got in touch, but he never did.


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