In which your heroine returns victorious.

Oh hi. Well, that was a Rather Lovely Evening even if I do say so myself and even if it did get off to a horrendous start with a minor panic attack, several wrong turns and minor woe at the inner city road system, heavy rainfall and a pre-determined meeting place with no bloody shelter so my man was kind of damp by the time I got to him. Oops. Oh AND, the guy I'm going on a sort-of date with tomorrow (the sex addict, remember he invited himself out to watch my friend's band play?) bloody PHONED me when I was about ten feet away from meeting him. Argh!

Anyway we went for a drink, very nice, lovely lovely, he is very funny, I went to the bathroom an hour later to discover that the Fringe Of Doom was actually completely on end and I looked like...a complete HORROR. Haha! I shall rewind though. I had so much fret and angst about what to wear that in the end I failed completely to pull off any wardrobe stunts and went out in my favourite vintage denim panel skirt and...a t-shirt. A plain black t-shirt. I WIN. Anyway I did at least have the forethought to put good undercrackers on so I had the Shelf Of Glory, which probably went in my favour. Fortunately he showed up in a shirt and...JEANS THANK YOU GOD so it was okay. Nice jeans. Shirt tucked in. Still jeans though. Success! So we tramp through the POURING rain into the pub and collapse at our tiny wonky table. Me: Phew, well we're here. Him: Yes and aren't you lovely! PRAISE THE LORD, for apparently He DOES have mercy. Anyway. Nice drink, followed by nice meal in Vietnamese restaurant where for once he threw the food about with nerves (not me, that's my usual trick) despite my having left my trick chopsticks at A's house at the weekend. Round two to me. Meal finishes; we both look sideways at the clock, it's 10.45pm. And we're in Chinatown, and we already ate. Hrmm. What now. Are you tired? he says. No, I say. Hm. Well. Do you want to come to mine and look at my comics and I'll make you tea?

Oh my god he puts out on the first date! Tea and comics? Go on then. So that is what we did. I went to his flat, he made me a cup of tea and we puttered about and smoked cigarettes and watched telly and I was quietly amazed at a: the tidiness and b: the books and c: the clean bathroom and d: the nice kitchen with actual implements and the suggestion that he may even COOK in it and e: the heating and f: the fact he had furniture and g: most importantly - he didn't lay a FINGER on me until I was about to leave and then he kissed me bless him and put me in my car. With no shoes on in the rain. The car was FOUR FEET from the door.

I probably sound like I have no standards. Let me let you in on a few things. The Heartbreaker, who I lived with...well. When I moved in he had to buy an extra cup. He'd lived in his flat (which had no heating, hot water, lampshades or furniture) for six months and never switched the cooker on. Until I moved in he didn't know how to make the shower run hot. He never cleaned. There was no stamp of him on the place at all; it was a hovel.

My man tonight not only had a huge Frida Kahlo print on the wall as I went in (those who know me know how I feel about Frida), he has actual sugar skulls he brought back from his travels with his mates because hi he leaves the house and has relationships with people dotted around the flat. He has...carpets. And a sofa. An actual nice one that you can get up out of. And towels. He has towels. And...he owns things, which are on shelves and in cupboards. He has photos of people he loves and who love him on the walls. And most importantly....

he doesn't
have
an X-BOX.

I'm going to bed.
:)