Sunday, 4 July 2010

Flying to the moon

During a free trial weekend on one of the site where I had filled in my details I got a message from an American guy who actually seemed quite nice. Ex-US Navy pilot, 42, tall blonde and cute. We exchanged 3 e-mails before he asked me out, we spoke on the phone once and after 20 minutes (yes I know it's meant to be 10...) I made my excuses about being a busy bee and before I could put the phone down he asked me out. So far, so good.
The night before our date he still hasn't confirm the location. I am going back to my Rules training and I think "it's a cancellation". Then, on D-Day, I get an e-mail sent to me around 10am, confirming time and place for the date. A quick chat to my colleagues and I decide that his e-mail was really sweet and that I would give him a chance, but not without a little reminder that I am not Miss So, rather than answering his e-mail I send him a text:
"Hi Mr TopGun, I was just about to ask my colleague to join me for a drink when I saw your message. 8pm at the pub sounds good. I'll probably drive down, not sure what traffic is like at that time but hoping to be on time..."
Boy, should I have known what would come next, I would have been more careful with my choice of words...
I left work on time and for once all the Public Transport seemed to have rallied on my side. I barely stepped off the escalator at my tube station that an empty train arrived, I got to the train station and the train was there waiting for me. Got off the train and the bus arrived just as I got the bus stop. I even had time to get a quick shower and get change, drive to the pub and get there only 2 minutes late.
I barely parked my car than my phone rang. Mr TopGun. As it happens he had an I.T. meltdown. His Satnav got stolen 2 days before our date, his laptop got a virus the day before, his printer broke down and now his Blackberry's satnav function has decided to freeze and yes, he is lost!
I tried to understand where he is, as it happened he had chosen a pub in my old neighbourhood and I know the roads around there pretty well. Unfortunately my directions get lost in translation and 20 minutes later he finds himself in "a city where there is no signs in English". Oh, Boy!
After some more directions Mr TopGun finally arrived at the pub... at 9pm.
As he walks in I give him the quick once over (the girls will know that it isn't reserved to the male side of the species), not quite what I had expected but I can see the potential. He takes a seat at the table I have been holding for one hour. He not only apologise but also demonstrate a good sense of humour, there might be hope.
We move on from a drink to a share starter, then a main for him and straight through to dessert for me. We finally have to leave after the waitress reminds us that it is past closing time...
We leave on the promise to get in touch again.
To be followed...

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