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  • Writer's pictureKelly


Updated: Feb 27, 2020

No one ever looks back on their life and wishes they’d spent more time at work.

This small phrase is often with me when I’m tired and just want to go home; it is often the motivation for me to push myself to see friends, family and go on dates even when I’m shattered. Which is why I found myself standing at a bar with work colleagues waiting to get served on a Thursday night, having done the third 12 hour shift of the week. Which is why, when the tall, handsome man walked in and stood right next to me, I couldn’t help but chat to him. Which is why, for the first time in ages and ages, I felt a connection with someone.

Remarkably, this was the quickest anyone ever got served in London so I ended up having to drag myself away from him and our potential-laden chat to join my friends outside. My mind was on other things while they talked and in the end I thought I’d just go back to the bar, get some crisps and see if I could somehow bump into him.

At the very point that I reached the bar fate intervened: he happened to walk past me, caught my eye and smiled on his way out. He waited at the door, checking his phone and an internal battle started taking place: “Go and talk to him, you have nothing to lose, No! he’ll think you’re an idiot, So what? you’ll never see him again anyway, No! he’ll think you’re an idiot, he probably has a girlfriend.” Whilst this laborious monologue was going on in my head he had left the bar and was slowly walking through the smoking area. “Now you’ve blown it, you could have just talked to him and asked for his number, No! he’s still outside, you still have time. No! he’ll think you’re an idiot.”

By this point the beautiful man had stepped out and onto the pavement. I sighed to myself about all the potential dates and fun we could have had, berating myself for missing an opportunity when finally I grabbed my lady courage and went out after him. By this time he’d got to the road. He was a few paces in front of me. I was just about to say something to him when he started to cross the road and I stood like a paralysed lemon on the kurb thinking that if he turned around now I’d definitely look like the idiot I’d feared.

Then I thought, “in for a penny, in for a pound” and made to follow him but then, Dear Lord, an evil black taxi appeared out of nowhere racing its way up the bus lane which meant I had to run across the road. Thus, I literally chased this poor man out of the bar. I grabbed his arm half way across the road and he turned and glared at me (he told me afterwards he thought he was about to be mugged because all he heard was footsteps running after him). I looked up at his face and asked him out for a drink sometime. His face relaxed into confusion and then he said yes. Hurray!

We ended up chatting in the bar for nearly two hours. How incredibly delightful it is to hit it off organically with someone: no online faffing, no endless back and forth with messages, no awkward first dates conversations. Just a normal guy and a normal girl who met in a bar. How old fashioned.

The next day he messaged me. We’ve messaged nearly every day for the last two weeks, his first messages coming through about 6am each day before work and conversations continuing through the days and into the nights. He was moving house which is why we set our date for a couple of weeks ahead (today). He is tall, handsome, works with disadvantaged children, loves his family, isn’t creepy or pushy. On Saturday he even messaged to say he was out with his friends, telling them about me. It has been a long time since I’ve felt so excited by someone. Yesterday, he messaged to say, “Sorry but I’ll not be able to make tomorrow after all.” I’ve not heard from him since.

28 March 2017

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