It’s Easter, I’m still single and I’m stuck in London. It’s a Saturday night and I’m bored with the bestie sitting at her flat about to cook a meal. She gets a call from her work friends and I make the snap decision to join her at the party she’s just been invited to…only problem is I’m not dressed or. As soon we walk in to the party, I roll my eyes to myself – of course there is a super babe here. I nudge my bestie, giving her that look only best friends can read… WHO IS HE?!
Of course I wasn’t looking my best. But I’m not too fussed, as if he will talk to me anyway – he is way out of my league.
An hour or so later, we catch eyes, I blush, and to be honest, that was that. We spend the night in bars and pubs with the rest of the party but act as though we’re on a date and in a world of our own. We escape down side streets, we kiss, we talk, we laugh but despite the indescribable chemistry, we go home separately. I’m not going to let his looks get the better of me – and he does fly back to New York, where he lives (yup…), the next evening after all. While he is kind and doesn’t seem like a snake, he is still a very attractive, tall, man – and we all know what they’re after on a Saturday night. Hot men are show ponys…this snake must in disguise.
I’m on cloud nine in the taxi on the way home when my phone beeps. He’s messaged to make sure I got home safely. For a snake, he’s quite sweet really. He asks if I have any plans the next day to which my bestie almost loses her head with excitement over and low and behold, the next day he messages again, asking if I fancy some lunch and a walk around Borough Markets before he heads to the airport. I’m flattered yet I’m excited, but I’m apprehensive. As if he wants to genuinely see me…he must have an ulterior motive – to have a bit of fun before he leaves. Who wants to see a girl, after only meeting her the night before, on a Sunday, for a day date, hours before he flies back to New York?!
Catch flights not feelings…right?!
I’m beyond nervous and full of butterflies on my way, but when I arrive he’s waiting for me outside the station and I instantly smile when my eyes find his.
Don’t fall for him, I tell myself, he just wants one thing.
We walk, we talk, we sit Parisian style at a lovely café drinking coffee, he shows me old buildings, tells me the history of the back streets we’re exploring, shows me paintings, street art and murals. We’re just chilling really, enjoying London and each other’s company on a Sunday afternoon. This is what I want, I find myself saying in my head, this is the kind of date I have dreamt of and this is the kind of man I have been looking for…but have never been lucky enough to meet. Every time I look up at him, I find myself smiling –almost blushing. I never thought I would feel as comfortable or as happy as I am with a man who is not much more than a complete stranger.
If Saturday night was for chemistry, Sunday was for connection.
Saying goodbye is never nice, after all my long distance situations, it’s something I’ve grown a bit of a phobia for. So while I am thankful that this goodbye should be a walk in the park, given I have only known Mr New York 24 hours, I actually do feel a little sad. I’m obviously not standing there at London Bridge station, crying my eyes out, devastated at his departure but I find myself in this weird paradox of happiness and sadness. While we’re saying our goodbyes, just like the night before I again feel like we are isolated from everyone else around us. We stand there hugging and kissing, admitting how nice it is to have met each other.
I can’t exactly explain how I feel sitting on the tube home – all I can think is how lovely the afternoon was, with a huge smile on my face. I realise how much hope I have lost when it comes to love and men, but he is refreshing. He didn’t want one thing, he genuinely wanted to see me again and spend time getting to know me.
He has reignited the hopeless romantic in me and reminded me of exactly what I want.
It also reminds me of how unfair this dating game can be. While I feel incredibly lucky to have met someone like him, it’s inevitably tainted with deflation. On that lovely, Sunday day-date, it felt like I had finally met that guy from the movies, the prince charming I have always had in my head. While it has been an amazing, movie-like 24 hours, an involuntary wave of deflation and disappointment crashes over me. He doesn’t live here. We can’t be.
Three and a half months later, we’re still in contact. Daily. He is one of the kindest, most genuine, weirdest, sweetest, most handsome men I have ever met. And judging by his adorable messages, he seems to like me? He wants to start FaceTiming, he wants to come back for a visit, he’s asked if there’s a chance I might visit NY this summer…from what I know of him so far, on paper, he is the man of my dreams. I’m confused and I’m caustious given my history with men and long distance situations, but I’m going with it & taking it for what it is. One day at a time.
I don’t know what this is and I know it can’t really be anything – but still, I adore him.
Thanks distance, you strike again.