Back on the horse!

Okay, so I’ve seriously rallied from Friday’s mild disaster.
Last night’s date with the Triathlete was a resounding Rules success. I wasn’t all that enthusiastic, to be honest - I was still reeling from the aftermath of my absurd drunken behavior coupled with residual exhaustion from a monster training session I’d had that morning. But! The show must go on, so I whacked on a dress and trotted off to meet him.
I met him at a pub that was basically a stone’s throw from my flat (according to The Rules, you should always make them come to you). He’s an internet catch so I wasn’t sure what to expect; he looked quite cute in his photos but the email banter hadn’t been anything to write home about. “Whatever,” I thought. “Let’s just get this one over with and get home in time for that MJ special.”
He was standing at the corner of the bar waiting for me. And man alive was he hot. It was the dating equivolent of getting off an airplane to find a chauffer-driven limosime that you didn’t order waiting for you: a bit disarming but extremely exciting nonetheless.
He bought me a pint and we sat in the beer garden, where he proceeded to put on his very best (and really quite charming) interview face. It was as though I was a prospective employer and he was really quite keen to get the position of My Boyfriend, even though I hadn’t realized the position was being advertised. There was talk of how he’s good with people but also enjoys his own time. How he’d like to go to Paris with someone special. How, if he had a girlfriend, he’d want to spend lots of time with her. He was pulling out chairs and saying “after you” like it was going out of style. Honestly, if I’d produced a written test and asked him for a urine sample, I’m pretty sure he would have happily done both and passed with flying colors.
The whole time I was sat across from him thinking, “Why on earth is this gorgeous man trying so hard to win me over? What sort of deep, fetid secret must he be hiding? Because, surely, someone this good looking and successful and charming would have swathes of women falling at his feet unless he had something seriously, grievously wrong with him…” Which is surely an endictment on modern dating as well as a rather depressing glimpse into my own personal expectations. Why is my first reaction to a man being polite and interested and keen, “Jesus, I’m sure he must be a frothing lunatic”?
Regardless, I had business to attend to and Rules to follow. He paid for my second pint (which was a little awkward because I made a vague gesture towards my wallet and then realized he wasn’t going to stop me, so I awkwardly had to play it off like I was just searching for lip balm and then looked at him expectantly until he got up to go to the bar). We had two very pleasant drinks and then, at the entirely wholesome time of 8:15pm, I told him I had better be going. He walked me to the corner and kissed me on the cheek and then off he strode, presumably to go slay dragons and rescue damsels in distress. I went home and sat in my living room for twenty minutes, repeating the phrase “He was so hot!” to myself over and over again.
He texted me this morning to say he’d had a good time and would like to see me again. I sent back an encouraging response (several hours later, of course). I have to say, we might have a contender here – I would totally hit that shit.
Kiwi also emailed me today and asked me out for Thursday, but I’m going to decline 1. because The Rules says I should wait at least a week between dates with the same man and 2. I’m slightly at dating saturation point at the minute and need a few days on my own to go running and sit in front of the TV eating crackers.
But it’s totally on. Two second-date prospects over one weekend: an unprecedented result.

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  • Jinny says:

    I have already seen it somethere…

  • Frances says:

    God, Love. What if HE is reading some sort of dating book, too?!?!?!
    It will be like a self-help black hole and you both might get sucked in.

    • Love by the Book says:

      That’s what I was thinking! I think in actuality he’s either AMAZING or (more likely) a psychopath and I will end up in a freezer.

  • Mills says:

    well he clearly isn’t doing The Game, which would be the best complement to The Rules… How can you compare this two hour boredom fest with the Kiwi fun? I think: if you can happily do The Rules, it means you don’t fancy the man. Or at least don’t fancy him enough to get drunk with him.

    • Love by the Book says:

      I don’t think you understand how truly atrocious the Kiwi kiss was… Good point about only being able to do The Rules with guys I don’t fancy, though – it is much easier. I guess the whole point is that you’re meant to act like you don’t fancy the ones you do actually fancy, and that’s why it’s so tricky. I also suspect that the best Rules girls are teetotal.


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