Happy Valentine's Day

As I had mentioned a few weeks ago, out of the blue I heard from Dr. T, who I had not heard a peep from since the embarassing disaster last July. Six months without a word, and suddenly he got in touch to suggest drinks.

Surprised but nonetheless grateful to be back in touch, I replied that drinks were a great idea, and left it to him to suggest a date. "How about the 14th?" he wrote. Ummm....the 14th of February? Was he really just a guy and truly that clueless? Sure, that won't be awkward at all, to be going out on Valentine's Day for the first time we've seen each other in six months, given how we left things...

Yet, as the date approached, I heard absolutely nothing from Dr. T. Had he suddenly realised the significance of the date and freaked out? I wrote him an e-mail, suggesting we meet at a pub near where he lived that I like, but no response. So convinced was I that nothing was going to be happening, that while stuck on the train journey home from Scotland, I agreed to go to an "Anti-Valentine's Day Party" in Parson's Green.

Hence I was surprised on Sunday night to get a brief message, "Shall we say 8 PM?" Ummm...okay, but you still haven't confirmed the location! Oh well, I figured I might as well just show up to the pub I suggested, yet while bringing a book just in case.

I arrived just at 8 PM, and was relieved to find that the pub was just as lovely as I remembered it. Cozy, warm and quiet, with soft music playing, big couches, and candles flickering everywhere. There was actually a great little couch in a dark corner that I thought about going for, but then remembered this wasn't supposed to be a Valentine-like date. After all of the disaster of before, I really wanted to convince him that we were back on the friendship track. Hence I'd worn jeans, a non-low-cut top, and had done by best to look nice but thoroughly casual. So I picked a spot with high stools and a small table in a dimly-lit corner, figuring that struck the right balance of cozy (small table) with friendly (not sitting side-by-side on a couch). He arrived just a few moments after I had settled in, and we pretty quickly settled into companionable conversation.

He talked about his job and how he is in charge of planning a co-ed bachelor party for his friend Sam's wedding (I know Sam, an American guy who is now at Harvard). I gave him as many ideas as I could, and we talked a bit about the neighbourhood of Islington and how he enjoys living there. He's always been a type who wants to be a bit more "in the heart of the action" than I have been, a super-socialist, bleeding-heart-liberal Dane. I mean, I think I'm a pretty bleeding-heart-liberal, but this guy makes me look positively conservative!

We chatted about my new job and how bored I had been at my old one (I get the impression his new job makes him work a lot), and how my new flat was fine enough but I was really done with living with randoms, and was looking forward to moving out when my lease was up. So you can imagine my surprise when he exclaimed, "You could move in with me!!" Ummm...I know we're trying to pretend that all of the awkwardness in the past never happened and that we're all good, but you don't think THAT would be awkward??

Somehow, also in the course of conversation we somehow got onto the topic of budgets and the cost of living in London, and somehow it occurred to me to mention out loud, "I often don't seem to pay for anything when I go out." Seriously, there have been so many evenings where I end up not spending a dime, or at least very little, as boys buy me drinks, pay for the cab, and just generally pave my way. And I wonder how much of an impact that makes on my budget as a whole. So many nights I should spend £30 while he spends £30, but instead it becomes I spend £0 and he spends £60. It's really kind of strange, but it was like right then, I had this sudden realisation of how being a pretty girl really helps me financially. How funny that I'd never noticed that before...

I just tried to keep the conversation light, but subtly slip in just generalized talk about romantic life in London, the classic, "If you talk about other boys, he'll know you're not interested in him" trick. The disaster of what happened before has me totally panicked, so as not to lose him again I want to make sure he's clear that I see us as being back on the "friends track". (Although he didn't exactly pick up in kind, which reminds me that he was an equal participant in the disaster. He may not want to date me, but he's still attracted to me on some level). He bought me drinks and olives and we just chatted for ages, but he refused my offer to buy him a drink, and instead ended the evening at around 10:30. Okay, it's a Monday night, I suppose I can live with that. But hugged me warmly as we parted and said, "It's been too long! We need to meet up again soon!!" So thank goodness, I think we're back to normal. Couldn't have asked for a sweeter Valentine's Day present than that.

Got home and then texted my last Valentine's wishes to the Young Dutchman, who cheerfully replied in kind, and we engaged in a bit of back-and-forth banter until bedtime. How I wish things with real boys could be as simple as they are with the Young Dutchman!! (Alas, the Young Dutchman is something close to the gay-best-friend. He might not actually be gay, but otherwise it's just the same. Must remember not to compare real boys to the Young Dutchman however, as it's an unfair comparison). Still, a wonderfully sweet Valentine's Day, with much love from the boys out there who are so dear to me.