The Date

 Before telling you about The Date, I guess I should tell you how we met………..

Once upon a time (a month or so ago to be more precise), on a warm crisp summer’s day (it was bloody boiling) I was running late for work (as usual) and just getting into my car, when a mystery man came up to my car window (random weirdo) and started talking to me. A minute ago he was in front of me making a phone call on the pavement and next thing he was trying to engage me in conversation. I was clearly in a hurry and flustered (well, sweating like the Devil in church)and wasn’t very interested in what he was saying (get lost, freak).

Mystery man then said something along the lines of “You are very beautiful and I would like to buy you a drink sometime”(liar, liar your pants on fire – streams of sweat beads and manky hair, do not make a fair maiden). He asks for my number. In a moment of haziness, mid rush, frustration, confusion I hand over my number and forget to mix up the digits a little.

An hour or so later, receive a text message (in French)  from mystery man saying he was very happy to meet my acquaintance and was looking forward to seeing my beautiful face again. Oh gosh (how creepy and OTT). Subsequent text messages from him was received suggesting meeting dates and times and always ending with declarations of tenderness or something equally as gushy (pass me the sick bucket). I don’t know maybe all this waxing lyrical was the norm in this part of the world. I mean I am living in a country renowned for amour and such. His texts were swiftly replied with my various declarations of illness, work travel, UK travel (Willy fog had nothing on me in the travelling stakes) and general busy-ness (in other words we were going to meet on the 12th of never). From time to time I would get a text from him asking about my wellbeing (take the hint and delete my number already).

I move to the neighbourhood were I bumped into Jean (guess I ought to give him a name as this stage). Last week, I walked into the bank to withdraw some cash and I notice a man across the pedestrian crossing looking in my direction. It took me a few seconds to figure out it was him (shit, shit, shit – why did I have to go to the cash machine at this point in time? It is like bloody Sliding Doors). I notice him crossing back to my side of the road (shit, shit, shit, bugger) and notice him wait for me to come out of the bank (bloody hell). I come out of the bank, and he says hi and asks if I remember him(how can I forget, you stalker). I say hi and tell him that I do remember him (you never forget your first stalker).

To be continued…………………………………..