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Me:DELETE
Should’ve known from his opening line and text speak it couldn’t go anywhere…
Unlike these guys who took an eternity to reply to a simple message (probably because they were busy messaging hundreds of other women) and would forget the answers you gave to questions (that’s assuming they even bothered to ask a question to keep the conversation going), Vincenzo seemed different. He took an interest in me and what I was doing and remembered to actually ask about it afterwards (e.g., How was your meeting? How did the fish pie you cooked last night taste?). I know it sounds crazy to think that a guy would get brownie points for remembering what I ate for dinner, but that was a big deal in this new-age dating world.
I enjoyed our conversations. It was nice having someone to chat to in the evenings as the house was always so quiet, and even though I still had my friends and family, sometimes I just felt a bit lonely. We were both keen to meet, but our schedules kept clashing. He’d suggested going for a drink the day after we’d first started chatting, but I had a client dinner. When I’d asked about this evening, initially he’d said he couldn’t as he was due to work until 11 p.m. However, as the hotel ended up being quieter than normal, he was able to leave early and messaged me and—well, here I am.
I’d hastily WhatsApped Roxy on the way to let her know where and who I was meeting (complete with description, his username, and mobile phone number). As I’d already set up my escape plan by telling him I could only go for a quick drink and stay half an hour tops because I had an early start, I didn’t think I would need a rescue call this time round (I might regret that, but let’s see). ‘Don’t worry, Roxy,’ I’d said. ‘I don’t think I’ll fancy him, so I’ll be tucked up and in bed by midnight.’
‘Thea?’ said a heavily accented voice from behind me.
I spun around and…oh!
I hadn’t been expecting that at all.
It was Vincenzo, lookingsignificantlymore handsome in real life than his photograph. He was wearing smart black jeans and boots, a light blue shirt and a beige trench coat. Nice. His dark eyes sparkled and his eyelashes were ridiculously long. Why, God? I’ve never understood why men are given long lashes whilst we ladies need to resort to layers of mascara or extensions to achieve the same length. And his lips. Mmm, they looked luscious in his photos, but now, just inches in front of me, they were even more tempting. I was suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic about being attracted to him.
‘Vincenzo! Lovely to meet you,’ I said, reciprocating his two kisses on the cheek. ‘How are you?’
‘Well, a little tired after a long day,’ he said in his thick Italian accent. ‘But I am pleased to see you, so I will be fine,’ he added, flashing an enthusiastic smile.
We headed to the South Bank and grabbed a table outside Strada. He told me how he’d originally come here for a holiday but had liked it so much that he’d never left. We discussed our love of food, and he told me about all of the dishes he liked to cook and I attempted to share my limited Italian repertoire.
Although he showed no signs of flirting, which I took to mean that perhaps he didn’t fancy me, I was definitely finding him attractive. I like that he’d made an effort for the date and he was able to hold a conversation here in front of me (so many people are good at chatting online, but struggle in real life). I guessed his job meant he was used to socialising and making people feel at ease.
As I took a last sip of my G&T, I glanced at my watch. 11.30 p.m. Shit. I’d only planned to stay until 10.30 p.m.
‘I should be heading home,’ I said, placing my glass back on the table. His face fell.
‘So soon?’ he asked.
‘Well, I’d only planned to stay for half an hour, remember, because I have an early start in the morning…’ My voice trailed off, and his pretty eyes began to look almost tearful. ‘I’m just going to pop to the ladies’.’
As I washed my hands, checked my hair in the mirror and touched up my lipstick, I started thinking.I’m having a good time, aren’t I? So why cut it short?
Exactly.
I headed back outside to the table.
‘Are you sure you can’t stay out a little longer?’ he asked.
‘Well…I am enjoying your company, so—’ Before I could finish my sentence, he jumped in.
‘I am really glad to hear that, Thea! I am loving your company too. Come,’ he said, standing up and then linking his arm in mine. ‘I know a great bar called Las Iguanas just two minutes away, where they do great cocktails, have a DJ and dancing…’
Oh, what the hell. I didn’t really have anything to do tomorrow morning, so why rush home?
‘Okay, Vincenzo. Let’s do it!’ I said.
He ordered a large glass of pinot noir and a cosmopolitan for me, and we grabbed a table in the corner next to the window.
I loved the vibe. There was a little dance floor area, which was packed with people dancing to a salsa song that I vaguely recognised. Vincenzo stood up, encouraging me to join him (I politely declined) and started swinging his hips left, then right, merengue style. With moves like those, I bet he could do some great things in the bedroom…
Focus…focus…
The conversation continued to flow, but the more I saw his juicy lips moving as he spoke, the more frustrated I became. Did he find me attractive, or was this going to become a ‘friend-zone’ situation? I hadn’t stayed out late to gain another friend. It was time to take control and move this on a bit…
‘So, Vincenzo,’ I said, staring him straight in the eyes and smiling cheekily, ‘what made you send me a message? What did you like about my profile?’
