The worst kind of attraction (if you want to avoid losing your head) is the sort that starts as a minute spark and gradually builds to a roaring fire over a period of time. This sums up the other night.
So, readers, I finally met him – XY, as I’ll call him, in celebration of the male chromosome (where would we be without it?). I was not bowled over – tall, skinny, big (ish) ears. I generally go for big and meaty (in all departments), but I thought it was only fair to give the guy a chance after we had been corresponding for so long. And I had seen a photo, which he did look like, but even if a picture is accurate and recent, it never captures everything. The only way to do that is to meet the person in full 3D real life.
It was slightly awkward with a few silences at first and he seemed to keep glancing at the wall behind me – which he later confessed was his way of avoiding eyeing my cleavage. And by the way, this wasn’t because I was dressed like Dolly Parton – I was just wearing my best push-up bra which made them eye-pokingly ‘out there’.
As the conversation picked up and the ice was shattered, thanks to a few drinks, I felt myself warming to him. And while some would say he was not conventionally attractive, I started to notice he had a good face and I was starting to like it more by the minute. Or was that just the wine/beer goggles?
I am not going to go into what we talked about to protect his identity, but he had obviously been as nervous as I. His big embarrassing moment came in the restaurant. I was only glad it wasn’t me.
He raised his hand for emphasis and the half-full bottle of red wine tipped and began its slow motion descent to the floor. But quick as a flash he caught it and in the process sprayed the right side of my dress with the contents. I did my best calm, unflappable, not at all bothered act – the kind I use when my three-year-old has started screaming in the supermarket because I won’t buy him a lollipop.
To XY’s credit, he was apologetic and mortified in equal measure, but I didn’t prolong the agony by mentioning it again and we forgot about it for the rest of the night. For one thing, we were totally distracted by each other by the end of dinner and had to extend the night with more drinks elsewhere.
I know some of you are now screaming out to me to cut to the chase and start on some erotic scenes. Sorry to disappoint, but that is not going to happen. It did not happen. While regular readers know I am a dirty slut, I did not want to jump into bed on this occasion. The drunken slut is being kept under wraps/ hidden in the closet for the time being while I get to know XY better and perhaps build the foundations of something special. We did share a kiss, though, and if that is anything to go by, anything else will be worth the wait.
Read more on my blog – drunkenslutmum.co.uk