It’s been a while since I last went on a first date. Since August 2014 to be precise, when I first decided in a long time to date someone seriously. That lasted all of till December when I threw in the towel for many reasons that are irrelevant now. In January this year, I finally reconnected with all my dating apps – just two to be quite frank. I was ready to get back into meeting new people and I was very much looking forward to the thrill of the chase.

First dates are never easy but being an extrovert helps. But you know what helps even more? When your date is the perfect gentleman. Mr January, from the moment he walked through the doors of the restaurant that I had selected for the evening, was the perfect example of my kind of a first date. He was confident, incredibly polite, mildly conservative and cheeky. He asked for the waitress’s name so that he could address her properly throughout the night. He attempted to make me blush all night; he may have succeeded a couple of times but I admit to nothing. As I sipped on my Old Fashioned, examining his arrogant nose that sat beautifully on his playful yet kind face, I could feel myself getting drawn in. To what exactly, I have no idea. But what I did know was that I was attracted to the man sitting across me and I wanted to know more. That’s what good dates are about right? Genuinely being interested in someone – the way they see the world and what inspires them, the things that make them happy, what makes them cry. To me a good date is when you can slowly and effortlessly peel the layers off of a person (figuratively, you perverts!) to reveal bits of their personality. You don’t always like what is revealed but every now and then, you are enthralled. And on that beautiful Monday night, I was intrigued, my friends. It was an amazing feeling. But I was cautious. The last time I felt this way was a year ago when I met M.S who oh so poignantly told me on our third date that he had a girlfriend. So I treaded lightly, not giving any indication, not consciously anyway that I was getting reeled in slowly but surely.

4 beers, An Old Fashioned, 3 Gin Tonics and 4 other rum-based cocktails later, all of which were consumed over 7 hours, we headed home, parted ways, sealing the night with a kiss I couldn’t forget even if I tried. When someone looks at you right in the eyes and asks you “let’s see each other again, okay?” you’d think I’d be able to come up with some snarky reply but all I could muster up was a meek yes, while I was still trying to recover from the kiss.

It’s odd being the person not quite in control. Typically I steer most of my dates, from the conversation topics to making the little decisions. It makes me shifty to watch someone so comfortably taking the wheel from me. It also feels weirdly good to sink back into my seat and allow someone else decide that yes, I should have another drink because the night is still young and there is so much more for us to discover.

I’m waiting patiently for the second date with Mr January. I am rather fond of this chap but I also know better than to try and tame a nomadic spirit. So we shall see how this pans out, if at all.