It was late 2006 and I was working at an investment bank in London, so the requisite Thursday night plan was a marathon session of gin & tonics with a bunch of bankers on Canary Wharf. This was just one of those Thursday nights and I was with a red-faced group from a friend’s firm rather than my own. I met lots of charming British men, who truly flock to American women like moths to a flame. The next day, my friend said his co-worker “fancied” me, and was hoping to ask me out for the follow week. Done and done.
THE FIRST DATE
Bowie and I were introduced via email and made plans for cocktails on Thursday evening. Like a true Englishman, he drank his 5 G&Ts to my 2. Then, he suggested that we move to a new venue closer to the Bank stop. Fine by me. Here, he ordered a nice bottle of wine and I was very impressed. We exchanged stories – I had just finished graduate school in New York and moved to London. Bowie had worked as a trader for a smaller prop shop after school, but was glad to be at a larger firm now. He had a younger sister who was 17. I had a younger sister who was 22. Then I asked, “How old are you?” To which Bowie replied, “Twenty.” So I said, “Twenty-what? I’m Twenty-four.” And he said…
“No, just twenty.”
I did win my college senior superlative for “Most Likely to Rob the Cradle,” but this was pushing it even for me.