After exchanging a few messages on the website, he suggested moving over to email, it would be easier than logging into POF all the time. I was starting a draft email from my regular account when I stopped dead in my typing tracks. The poor thing was having a rough go and a queasy stomach to make matters worse. He wasn’t supposed to come back until the weekend and it was Tuesday… Nevertheless, I couldn’t really make him suffer so I helped him come back putting my hypothetical romance on hold…
though time was ticking, if I was going to have a little it would need to get going, so the day my brother flew home the following week I was back on track…
Relieved to be in a taxi alone back to my place, as soon as I got home I replied to the POF boy seeing if he was still free the next night as we’d tentatively made plans, hopefully take two would be an improvement! I’d never met up with someone like this, was this such a good idea?? He was funny, interesting and our mansion bar drinks went well.
I pulled out my phone to text him, secretly hoping that the guy across the street wouldn’t show signs of receiving a new message. He had to go off to shoot a band (he shoots music gigs in his free time, very cool).
His grammar and spelling were often shaky, he did say something about his parents being from Argentina but that he was raised in the US and was a proud Texan. All things considered, I still wanted to meet him and was truly hoping the date would go well. In Argentina it wasn’t Friday the 13th which brought bad luck, it was Tuesday.
There were other things that were a bit off such as him starting to “miss me” already even though we hadn’t even met, him being a bit demanding when I hadn’t replied fast enough to one of his messages and the fact that we wanted a lot of children (that wouldn’t be happening with me! Had this cultural superstition put a bad omen on our evening?
to surprise me as long as there would be something vegetarian.