Music: Cuddle Fuddle - Passion Pit
When Craig eventually does arrive at my house in his noisy car it is just before 5pm.
On hearing his car engine switch off, I leap up from the sofa and do a quick check of my reflection in the mirror.
Deeps breaths. This is all going to be fine.
Craig walks along the small path in front of the living room window and knocks at the door.
I open it with slight trepidation.
“Hi,” I say breezily, hiding my slight annoyance that he hasn’t turned up when we arranged.
“Hi,” he replies.
We kiss each other on the cheek and then he dumps his bag on the carpet.
“Do you mind if we put Soccer Saturday on?” he asks immediately. “The footie results are coming in.”
How romantic. Nice to see you too.
Usually I am be the first one to request that the channel gets changed to Soccer Saturday. Yes, I am one of those weird women who really love football, but this is just a little bit rude don’t you think? He’s only just arrived and he’s more interested in the football than he is with me.
Hmm, that's another clue that he's only come to see me so he can see me and come.
As we sit on the couch and watch the scores roll in, Craig is quiet and really introverted. I slyly check him out from the corner of my eye. He is still foxy though, and his plain white t-shirt hugs his arms nicely.
Foxy yes, but he looks really uncomfortable and not quite sure what to do with himself.
As the final football scores filter through, I decide that the best course of action is to get ready to go out, as at least this will give us something to do. We both head upstairs and get changed: me in my bedroom, him in the bathroom. We might have seen each other naked already, but somehow it doesn’t feel right for us to watch each other strip off and tart ourselves up.
After half an hour of primping and preening I am ready to go, so I head back downstairs where Craig is already waiting for me, watching ‘The A-Team’ on some obscure satellite channel.
“You look nice,” he says as I enter the lounge.
OK so that's one brownie point back.
“Thanks,” I reply, and feel my cheeks flushing slightly.
I have made an effort tonight as I’m wearing one of my nicest dresses, with black opaque tights and glossy black patent heels.
Maybe he is just being shy?
I’ve booked us a table at a bustling and popular Italian restaurant tonight, as during our text conversation in the week Craig let slip that Italian food is his favourite.
The taxi arrives promptly and whisks us off into town. Craig has never been to Leeds before and I am determined to show him what a brilliant night out it can be.
We arrive at the restaurant, and it is busy and buzzing with a really lively atmosphere. The swish waiter takes our drinks order, and as Craig is drinking beer it looks like I’m having a bottle of wine to myself.
Well, it is much cheaper than ordering it by the glass...
As opposed to our first date this time the conversation is a bit more stilted, and at times it feels like we are running out of things to say. I try my best, and eventually I have to resort to talking about Preston North End football team to keep the conversation flowing.
I know. Things were that bad. Luckily for me I’d done a bit of research.
This seems to work though and things start to pick up. Or is it because we are a bit tipsy now? Either way, I figure that as he is here we might as well try and have as good a time as possible.
The meal is delicious, and I can’t get enough of the butternut squash risotto and rocket and parmesan salad. Craig opts for a Toscana pizza, which is piled high with Parma ham and wild mushrooms. We are getting on OK, although I’m sure the Pinot Grigio has something to do with it.
I take Craig to a couple of bars, and the night follows a similar course to our first date:
In the first bar we chat and drink politely.
On the way to the second bar we hold hands.
By the time I’m pressed up against the wall being passionately kissed in bar number three, we decide it’s time to head back to my house.
We have sex, but this time it is distinctly lacking in fireworks and the movie style ripping off of clothes. Craig does the weird closing of the eyes thing again and it feels like we don’t connect at all. If I’m honest it doesn’t really do anything for me this time, and as attractive as Craig is, it is starting to become a bit of an effort to spend time with him.
He is a quiet bloke whereas I am an extrovert by nature, and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if I read too much into the silences. I wouldn’t mind if the quiet times felt easy and relaxed, but they don’t. I can almost feel them hanging in the air like a flashing neon sign which says: “You two have no spark”.
I look at Craig as he falls asleep about five seconds after coming and realise that even though he is young, fit, and sexy and is perfect fling material, that maybe this fling needs to be flung.
Sunday confirms this for me though...
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