Thursday, 20 January 2011

From Russia With cold

I finally had my date with Mr Dimitri. 
This time no snow came between us and our date, even if the air was cold. Well at least for me, as my Siberian date seemed rather comfortable with the chill of the night.

Whilst arranging our date he had offered that we meet at a French restaurant in Chiswick. Although, after checking the place on the internet, it seemed like a fantastic place, I wasn't sure I was ready to take the risk of being stuck with someone potentially uninteresting for a couple of hours in exchange for a good meal (and this could be reciprocal). So I suggested we first meet for coffee and see how it goes from there.

I checked how long it would take me to get there and leave just on time, only to find myself stuck in massive traffic on the slip road accessing the motorway a few minutes later. Thankfully Mr Dimitri is not very familiar with Chiswick and got himself lost on his way to the coffee house.
I see him passing my car as I finish parking, at least I assume it is him. He is rushing towards where I believe the café to be, he looks like his picture and is carrying an attaché case. I feel a bit reassured that I am not too late. I get into the Starbucks just as he is paying for his drink, so I quickly jump in and order my peppermint tea, oddly served in a paper cup. As I look around us I realise that chairs are being put away and counters are being emptied and cleaned. Not a good sign. It's barely one degree outside and, despite the heating in my car and my gloves, my fingers are white and frozen. The last thing I need is to be asked to leave the warmth I have just found and settled in. My fingers, tightly wrapped around my hot cup, have barely recovered their natural colour when one of the staff makes her way to each table to remind us that they are indeed about to close and could we please finish our drinks.

He is very apologetic suggest that we move onto the restaurant he had originally suggested. We pop into my car for the short drive down the road. Luckily, the restaurant is not fully book and they manage to give us a nice table. He is friendly, nice to look at  and speaks perfect French, only a few words give away a slight hint of his Russian accent. We talk about everything and anything. He has travelled quite a bit and lived in very opposite words, Russia, USA, France. I am curious, as always and ask him a lot of questions about growing up in Siberia, leaving in St Petersburg, the rationing, the cold, the snow. Ask him how he ended up in the US and then in France. To top it all the meal was gorgeous.
By the end of our date I realise that 4 hours have gone by. It's time to say goodbye, go home and reflect.
This was almost 2 weeks ago. Since then we exchanged a few text and he has checked up my Match profile on a regular basis but he hasn't asked me out and, to be honest, although I did enjoy his company, he didn't rock my boat. I would see him more as a friend than a potential boyfriend.
I suppose, even I missed out on a Russian lover, I will still have From Russia with Love to listen to...

No comments:

Post a Comment