After the initial temptation and three weeks of e-mailing, he finally managed to ask me for a drink.
In that straight-forward to the point convincing English kind of way: So… maybe, perhaps, I mean if you’re up for it, I obviously don’t know your situation is but just in case if you’re not busy…
We decided to meet up for a drink on Friday. He was late and had taken my number down wrong ( slightly worrying for a man working with numbers) so failed to inform me… This being my first first date, I was nervous and gulping down wine when a friend walked in. Crap, busted. She greeted me with loud: HI! and came over for a chat. My face must have looked a picture…
Still we managed to get through the initial awkward stage and ended the night quite pleasantly with a request whether he could take me out again.
Says he: Let’s do Saturday.
Says I: I need to perform but hey let me work the logistics.
Says he: That’s unromantic: logistics.
Says I: Bit rich from a man wanting to meet near the station so he could get home, but I’m sure we can meet in the evening?
Says he: Oh sorry I forgot I have birthday drinks planned – can you do Sunday?
Says I: Sunday I am flying home to have my other eye fixed, what about Friday?
Says he: Ah. The football is on, World cup is a difficult time to date. When are you back?
Says I: Ah. Don’t think this is going to work… meeting once every fortnight…
Says he: I am sorry but I am busy.
Let’s look at the facts here ladies and gentlemen:
I am busy because I am performing during a modern feminism event and then flying home to have an eye lasered.
He is busy because he needs to drink beer and watch tv.