Let me preface this by stating that Pug Boy and I are still talking, so whilst I will let you all be privy to information on what happened with Bachelor Number 5, I can't be too harsh on the kid for fear he may read this at some stage and then we would not be talking. Should that happen, I can tell you a lot more and it would make for fantastic reading. For now, I still like this guy so you only get the basics, sorry kids!
It is very rare that I meet a man with whom I actually have a connection with. My job has trained me to be able to hold a conversation with a fence post if required, therefore finding out I have genuine interests in common is not a regular occurence - well unless it's about food, that happens on a daily basis and with complete strangers, usually in supermarkets, cafes, at the Post Office, you get the picture.
I mentioned in my previous post that I begrudgingly went on a date with Pug Boy. I had earlier in the week met Brad for a drink and in an effort to try and not keep all my eggs in the one basket, when Pug Boy asked me out for a drink I said yes. Well actually I bailed on the first date due to "work" (I told a white lie, I just couldn't be arsed putting pants on that evening after a long day, as you can tell I have become quite lazy in my old age), anyway I got sidetracked for a minute there sorry, so we rescheduled for the end of the week.
After a few cheeky texts during the week, mostly about if I was sitting on my couch in my underwear watching Netflix, I was a little more keen to meet this funny chap. Before you go thinking that's a bit forward to be asking about my underwear considering we hadn't met yet, it was entirely my fault. I made the fatal error of giving an honest answer to what I was doing one night - I should have anticipated the conversation would not shift much passed my underwear after that. Rookie error number 5002, well done Ange! From first impressions I did like his sense of humour, it was on par with my own so I knew the banter in person would be there.
His suggestion for a sneaky Friday evening beverage was Byblos at Portside Wharf - classy, great choice Pug Boy, I approve, this is right up my alley. His reasoning for the location choice was because it was closer to my side of town and therefore easier for me - this shows thoughtfulness and consideration, a rarity for me compared to the selfish wankers I've dated before (are you sensing a common trait of my past boyfriends?).
By the time Friday rolled around I'd had a hectic day at the office, was running late due to staying over my shift end time and only left myself enough time for a quick shower, trowel on more make up over the top of the work make up, spray dry shampoo in the old mop of a hair do and catch an UBER to the bar. I made it with only being a couple of minutes late.
I sent him a text to let him know that I didn't have my glasses on so the likelihood of me recognising him, even if squinting, was slim to none. Therefore, should he see a blonde girl in a green dress looking lost and with the chance she may have special needs from the squinting it's probably me and to come help a sister out. He replied that he'd just arrived also and was waiting for a waitress to seat him because he reserved a table inside as it looked like it was going to rain and he didn't want me to get wet if they were full and we had to brave outside *sigh* bless you Pug Boy, now I'm well impressed! I approached the entrance to the bar and there was a pretty fit looking guy with his back to me talking to a staff member, then he turned around.
I shit you not (sorry about the swear word but it has stronger dramatic effect than substituting it for kid), in my head it was like a scene from a movie when the picture goes all slow motion and mood setting music starts playing. I could feel the look of pure terror and nerves bordering on a potential small vomit disappear from my face. A smile crossed over his, I hoped he thought "thank eff she doesn't look too much different to her profile pictures", it was either that or he'd let out a small satisfying fart. The little devil on the left side of my brain said "damn this guy is fiiiinnnnnnnneeeeee and way out of your league sweetheart, turn around and go home". He had a very well ironed crisp white shirt on (my Mum would be extremely impressed by his use of Napisan and skills with an iron), nice blue dress pants and brown shoes. Polite cheek kiss/hug for a hello and his cologne made me want to lick his face - bit forward for a first date so I restrained myself, I'm not a weirdo after all.
Seats were taken and drinks ordered. I was contemplating how to sit comfortably in a squishy lounge with a stupid dress on which prevents you from crossing your legs at the knee because it makes your slightly voluptuous thighs look like sausages bursting out of their casing. It's freaking impossible to sit comfortably and give the impression of being nonchalant and well kept, a task which is impossible for me at the best of times.
For the next two and a bit hours, whilst more wine was consumed on my part, the conversation between us was very easy and not at all forced. I was very surprised we had so much in common. Whist this guy was very city looking, well spoken, and smelt like the cologne counter at Myer, I was convinced I was punching above my weight and this honest country girl wouldn't make it in the big smoke with guys like this.
What followed were random conversational topics and some people watching combined with making up our own version of what was happening with groups and other couples - first date, second date, married and obviously haven't spoken to each other for years and the like - both our stomachs required food. With a shared love of UberEats, Netflix and not leaving the couch, he paid for drinks and we went back to mine to do exactly that. And get your minds out of the gutter, there was no chill in that "Netflix and Chill" - I am a lady. There wasn't much Netflix either, between talking and stuffing our face on the pizza and chips the movie was just background noise.
1am came around and Pug Boy went back into the world and home to his beloved Pug. After a long day, superb evening and wayyyyyy to much Pinot Gris, I was happy and hopeful for the first time in years. Finally I'd met someone with common interests who appeared to not be a freak. I looked forward to a potential date number two with this lad, my fingers and toes were crossed. Cue drooling into my pillow and much needed z's. Until next time Pug Boy, it had been surreal and nice.
