I woke up the next morning in my clothes and with a fatty taste from the night before, with chips scattered all round me. Yes, I’d bagged a lot more than I’d bargained for.
I could see the finish line in sight. I was on 39. My weight management system had gone out of control. Only a few days before, I figured out there was actually 46 days in Lent and not 40. Apparently, I was supposed to take off Sundays. Now, here I was nearly knocking at the 40 door. I was supposed to go a speed dating golfing activity that morning, but I just couldn’t face it. First off, I can’t play golf, secondly I had no golfing attire and thirdly there was one guy who I wanted to fit in.
James was another internet date coming from Maybefriends.com. He seemed quite different from the other internet dates. He seemed successful and well rounded with a strong profile picture. After a short time, James and I moved off the confines of internet dating, we swapped emails and contacts details. He was forward thinking yet relaxed. Him being a busy business man and I troubling with logistical dating problems, it always seemed difficult to catch up. However, finally we were both able to clear our windows, knowing that the final was looming. That day, I would’ve had a date on the moon, I was out of ideas so I left the dating activity kindly in hands of my potential date. What would he come up with? Because, it was getting late, a bar was chosen but I was interested in testing his bar selection.
James chose McSorely’s in Ranelagh; a good honest selection. I was tired from Coppers the night before but tried to hide it in a red foxy number. When I arrived, it was ironic to see James dressed in a red collared shirt. We were matching. James was tall and broad, with shoulders that showed he played rugby in his earlier years. He was 42yrs and had a President-like presence about him. Born and breed in Mayo, he was a warm and friendly guy with a big honest eyes.
James was a MD of an engineering business, working on some of the venues and buildings in the country. His company was thriving, with offices in the States with plans for further developments. I’m a girl who always pays my way. But, James insisted every time. You could see he was used to money.
We chatted about our different stories. James was recently separated. It was an amicable break up, and you could see he was glad he was on the other side. There had been quite a large age gap in the previous relationship, differing values and beliefs that could not be brought to common ground.
Even though, I was a little tired, when James mentioned going to Residence in the city, my little ears cocked up! Could it be possible to move up from Coppers to Residence in one night? Residence is an private members club on Stephens, frequented by rich and famous. Members annual fees started at 800euro or so…obviously, that was why I’d never had the privilege. To be honest, I’d no interest of ever going a private members club as I feel any club that segments folk into categories can only limit interactions and meeting new and exciting people. However, saying that…after 39 dates, I’ve been queen of random interactions, and especially after my Coppers night the day previous, I felt I owed it to myself and all the Singlelistas to head forth to the VIP plush of Residence.
They knew James by his first name on entry. I smiled when they said to me “Welcome Back, we haven’t seen you here in a while.” I simply replied, “`’I’d never been.” Residence is impressive. It is based in a nostalgic St. Stephen’s Green townhouse, consisting of a number of floors, each with an elegant room or terrace. It was sophisticated suave and chic. We set outside out in the terrace drinking our perfectly induced Mojitos. There was a sense that life was good; that I’d finally made it. The flavours of the Mojito was refreshing, the conversation also.
The clientele were all upper mid-class. The fashion was a well cut designer affair. Everyone was perfectly styled. My red dress was having an impact, when one lady came over to admire it and asked me for the designer’s name. I replied simply ‘Le Primark’.
James and I headed to the Piano Bar upstairs, relaxing into the smooth ambience. The music was at the perfect level to chat or listen to the piano man’s endearing and relaxing tunes. To be honest, everything was pretty much perfect for a first date. I had to keep pinching myself on how far I’d come, more specifically even from the night before. James and I got on very well. However, I don’t know was it just me being a bit giddy but I felt really childlike talking to James. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t until he spoke about how his love for his nieces, that I figured out what the problem was. For some reason, I felt like a niece and that I was being spoiled for the night. I hopped into a taxi about 1am. James is an absolute treasure though. I’m surprised that he was on internet dating. He seems too good for it. He should be grabbed up with two open arms. Was he Mr. Right? He was definitely what you would call Mr. Big? It warrants a second date I think.