The Cowboy and I crossed paths on a more grown-up part of the internet dating world and I was immediately attracted to him because of his gorgeous blue eyes and overall cute appearance and we eventually struck up a conversation. Turned out a rather exciting and entertaining one at that so when he finally asked me for a date in person, I was beyond delighted.
As usual, I chose LSS (Liverpool Street Station for those of your who do not know) as our initial meeting point – I really do not know what it is with me and guys and this place. Now, I had never been greeted by being full-first-named before (only my dad does that, normally when he tells me off. Yes, still now), so when the cowboy did just that, I was a bit like what the sugar my friend?! But as he was even cuter in person than in his pictures, I didn’t really care too much. He did have an American accent even though he was a Brit, which took a little getting used to. I actually had to ask because I thought it was some obscure deepest, darkest England dialect only to be corrected in my geographically disastrous assumption. Whoops.
We went for dinner at Wahaca which I happen to love just as much as he did, so this was pretty good start. He was super interesting to talk to – our conversation was genuinely flowing with wit and words – and we quickly realised a shared mutual appreciation for the F word. All very bonding indeed. After dinner, I dragged him to one of my favourite bars that happens to make pretty awesome Martinis, and we were knocking back the cocktails – quite a few of them – over some people watching and some more at times quite philosophical verbal exchanges. With the conversation and the drinks flowing alike, it was safe to assume this was one of the more successful dates of mine. I do remember checking out his ass once when he was ordering the next round of drinks and I thought to myself, he had to get rid of those baggy trousers. Now going to this place had been a concession on his part and after dutifully obliging to my wishes he got a little restless and finally asked if he could suggest something a little out of my comfort zone.
I know you’re thinking dark corners and all that – so was I at first – but as it turned out he was just talking about the pub down the street. With very steep stairs by the way which after all those cocktails and some more cider proved to be a little on the challenging side. We kept drinking quite a bit, sitting opposite each other engaged in animated conversation. It was pretty obvious we were having a really good time with each other and one of the waitresses even referred to us as a cute couple. I do recall that I kept opening and closing the top button of his shirt to check out his chest hair (which he had referred to as his rug previously and no lie, there was plenty of that). No idea why I felt the need for it but I didn’t get a slap so it can’t have been that bad.
I managed to miss the train I had aimed for so we swung by another place for one last drink. Now, at least for a short while, we got ourselves a dark corner. He was a quite good kisser, so it was a little unfortunate I was so inebriated at that point that closing my eyes made the room spin. And that was not down to his incredible abilities I’m afraid to say. As he put it very politely later, I was swaying. He did get me safely on my train home and even though I had to go to work on three or so hours sleep the next morning, I was pretty happy.