So I have a date tomorrow night…
It’s been a little while since my last attempt at a one on one with a man and if I were to tell you I’m not feeling nervous I would be telling you a lie.
The reasons for the man detox relate directly to my propensity for being really really bored by really really boring men.
As I explained in a previous post, past attempts with the likes of Barry and Jeremy have left me believing that I’m going to have an infinitely more satisfying evening with the four bs. Bath, bottle (of wine), bed and book.
After a night with the four bs I am relaxed, clean, well rested, entertained and, yes, a little tipsy. With Barry and Jeremy all I achieved was tipsy. Well, drunk. When I reach a point where sticking a fork into my own face just to have an excuse to spend the rest of the evening in A&E rather than continue with a torturous date it’s safe to say I drink more than a lady should.
But I have high hopes that Henry is going to be a far more pleasant companion and I think that’s why I’m nervous. I’ve known him a little while through friends and we’ve always made each other laugh. Romance bubbled benignly below the surface, barely noticeable, until an unexpected (and glorious) kiss this weekend turned me into a mad person. Suddenly a man I could chat to endlessly without a second thought terrifies me as I can’t think of anything to say to him. I’m in the process of writing a list of emergency talking points to keep in my bag should I run out of topics. But even with the list I’m deeply concerned the words will come out in the wrong order and knowing my luck I’ll end up telling him I love him over the starter.
I don’t love you Henry. Just in case you’re reading this. Gosh I hope you’re not reading this. If you are reading this then, erm, stop reading immediately and have a look at all the pretty hotels you’re going to be taking me to when we get married. I’m kidding Henry. Relax, I don’t want to marry you… yet. (I’ve gone insane Henry, run while you still can.)