It's going to be hard for me to describe the actual meet, so I'll describe the events that took place around the meet and hope you understand. I was on a tear with a group of my friends having a party weekend in Oxford UK. The Friday night out had been fine, but we hadn't really felt that we'd become the centers of attention. The strategy for the second night was that I would be an American movie star who didn't talk to anyone and would wear giant sunglasses all night. My friends would be my entourage.
Fast forward to breakfast the next morning. None of us can piece together the night before, but we all have a handful of lucid memories. Cans remembers strong arming a crowd while shielding me (a movie star) as we walk into a "club." Dee remembers coming back to the hotel without her shirt (or her dignity). Rob remembers crashing a 30th birthday party and me being photographed with the cake. I remember asking periodically if anyone had seen my purse. All in all it sounds like a fun night, so we head back to London to develop the disposable cameras and see what turns up.
What none of us remember is that I met a perfectly charming fellow, gave him my number, and told him to ring me back in London.
THE FIRST DATE
Back in London: Scotsman calls, reminds me that we met at such-and-such place in Oxford, and asks if I'll have dinner with him on Saturday. Of course (?) I will. We decide to meet at an Italian restaurant in central London, which seems fine until I'm on the way to the restaurant and realize I could not pick this guy out of a line up if my first born's life depended on it. Luckily, I didn't have to. Scotsman was early, snagged us a table, and waved me over as soon as I walked in the door. I had dodged the first of three bullets that evening.
Dinner was fine. We laughed and talked and shared life stories. But then, Scotsman shot me at point blank range with bullet #2. He asked in a deadpan voice how I had recovered my sight. Scotsman was referencing a conversation from Oxford at which I had been about as present as Amy Winehouse had been in the 2000's. Luckily, the light bulb quickly went on and I remembered I had been wearing sunglasses all evening in Oxford. We both had a laugh when I explained that I wasn't blind. I guess my movie star sunglasses had come off more Stevie Wonder than Angelina Jolie. Bullet #2 dodged.
We were having so much fun that Scotsman and I decided to head out for a drink after dinner and that's when bullet #3 appeared. Unavoidable, really. We stood up from the table, walked outside, and from across the grassy knoll I was struck with the magic bullet. He was adorable from the waist up, but from the waist down he had womanly hips and chubby girl thighs.
There is really only room for one person in a relationship to have curves and if I'm not to have them, then I'm afraid no one can.