Mid-summer on my favourite island on the planet. Time for a nighttime escapade with a beautiful stranger.
‘So where would you like me to take you for dinner?’ read the message from Philippe.
An encouraging start to first date pre-amble with a complete mystery man. Everything I knew about Phillipe you could write on the back of a fag packet – 28, Parisian, handsome, available.
‘How about Sa Punta or La Bodega?’ I replied.
We agreed on La Bodega on Talamanca beach, laid-back waterfront vibes.
I arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes after our agreed meeting time, (standard first date strategy!). Philippe messaged to say that he was running a little behind. Damn – my plan had been foiled. I always avoided arriving first. This window of time was a breeding ground for anxiety; when the agonizing torture chamber of unhelpful thoughts crippled you with fear.
What the hell was I thinking?? I should have just stayed home, washed my hair and watched Fleabag or lived vicariously through my other friends’ dating calamities.
What if he looks nothing like his pictures? What if he’s fifteen stone and four foot eight? What if we don’t understand each other’s sense of humour? What if he’s boring??
Sick to my stomach with nerves, my heart was pounding uncontrollably, leading me into a kind of queasy trance. Why did I do this to myself? I’d bagged the best spot at the front with Moroccan-style low seating and an uninterrupted view of The Big Blue.
A tall slender vision of elegance snapped me out of my cascade of torturous thoughts!
“Forgive me for being so late!” Philippe gently muttered
How could you fail to forgive a face like that…..dark brown eyes, deep as sin, olive skin, thick black floppy hair, and a wry, sexy smile. His calm energy immediately soothed my jitters like honey.
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