The one with… the first date

Inviting someone over for dinner on a SUNDAY and giving myself 2 hours notice to get ready, clean my house, shave my legs from the honestly mammoth lockdown state they were in, freak out, calm myself from the freak out and then reassure my brain that I’m a grown goddamn woman who can invite boys over for casual things like a DINNER DATE s-p-o-n-t-aneously even though I didn’t spontaneously just have wine, crisps and humous, was quite an intense leap back into the dating scene, post 40 days and 40 nights... 

This guy, let’s call him Dave. A classic boys name, one syllable, punchy, casual. He was someone I’d met a few years before, from another university (translated – from my a cappella days, in the HEIGHT of competitions, going on nights out harmonising, besmirched in glitter and singing to bouncers as a way to get in). I’d always remembered he was gorgeous, but until he’d slid into my DM’s a month or so ago, I hadn’t given him much thought. He’s the kind of man that would talk business with your dad, shake his hand firmly and wear a Ralph Lauren shirt casually on a Tuesday. A nice boy. He smelt so good. I’m an incredibly sensory person when it comes to attraction, and as soon as he walked in I wanted to inhale him. 

I was laughing slightly too much, bouncing around between rooms…. What was the MOST casual. How to ACT casual, when relaxed was the last thing I felt.

We were both a little nervy, it had been YEARS since we’d last seen each other. I was laughing slightly too much, bouncing around between rooms. Unsure if I should go to the living room with the crisps when he went to the bathroom or just wait for him in the kitchen. What was the MOST casual. How to ACT casual, when relaxed was the last thing I felt. But, I did feel good, wearing a gold shirt with leopards on it, bedecked in my classic hoops, white flared trousers that always give me more of an ass than I really deserve…. I didn’t wear what I thought he’d like... I wore what I felt good in. (I’ve decided this is actually the trick to looking good on a date.) I could have worn the tight white vest top and been worried about how my body looked after a week or so of inhaling my bodyweight in chocolate, but I didn’t. 

The conversation flowed – family, what he’d done since leaving uni, career decisions he’d made (the wrong one), what career decisions I’d made (also the wrong ones) and how he’d ended up joining the army to feel like he had a greater purpose, to feel like he was in something bigger than just himself, the sense of camaraderie. I was curious, I don’t know anyone my age in the army. It seemed like an old fashioned decision, in some ways. And I probed him about it, asked if it was the adrenaline? Was that the sense of satisfaction? It was more the feeling of a greater contribution, not like he was just a tiny cog in an impersonal machine. That I understood. 

He looked at me, amused, our faces hovering close. It felt intimate. Silly. Sexy. I wanted him to kiss me.

He’s very pretty. Really. He has these long eyelashes and blue blue eyes. It’s so unfair that men look so good naturally when they just wake up in the morning. He asked about 40 days sensitively, not like he was trying to get to the juiciest part of it, and leave me discarded like a pulp. He asked what kinds of things I’d written about. I told him about the myth of the nice guy, a date that went wrong, a pushy guy… and he looked sad, understanding in his eyes. He said did I feel any different? Had I changed since the 40 days? And I have. I don’t settle for playing pretend at someone’s girlfriend, or wait around for men who leave me wanting more.... It’s given me the chance to hit refresh on my expectations. I said, I have higher standards now and with a flourish and a giggle said that ‘my body’s a temple’. He looked a little temporarily at a loss, then laughed. And I said, WHAT, why is that funny…. He said, “it’s not, it’s just a little intimidating….”. 

I could feel us looking at each other, sizing each other up on the sofa. At this point, I still wasn’t totally sure it actually was a date…. And then he spilt red wine on my white trousers and FREAKED OUT. He was apologising profusely, said I must ACT NOW which I found kind of hilarious in a sweet way. It told me he was used to dating women who were potentially a little more high maintenance. He said I should take them off…. was it just me or did the air get a little bit charged? I hunted down some vanish oxy-action, and he stood by me at the sink and I propped my leg up. He held my leg and with his other hand held a wet cloth, and pressed the vanish into the red wine stain. And looked at me, amused, our faces hovering close. It felt intimate. Silly. Sexy. I wanted him to kiss me. He would, but later. For any of my neighbours passing the kitchen window, I’m sure we looked quite a sight...  

Later when we went upstairs to my room I’ve really never felt more respected and I think it was because in some ways I’d set the standard? This is my body and how I like it to be treated. Thank you please kindly. It was kind of a revelation. Eventually, tension mounting, I hooked a finger through his belt loop, and said “take these off”, he looked at me, waited and said “are you sure?”.... and I knew that he’d listened to me and really heard what I’d said the whole night too.