I had been dreaming about the Young Dutchman rather vividly last night, one of those classic dreams that don't make any sense, as we were wearing white-tie and got caught in a rainstorm. Some people I know spend ages trying to interpret dreams, but I generally think that they're just a reflection of what's on your mind at the moment. Still, I was surprised at how real the dream was, as though he was right there with me. So imagine my surprise when I woke up to my phone ringing, with the Young Dutchman calling to say, "Rise and shine!" I was so startled, I almost wanted to ask him if he'd had the same dream.
Logic dictates a much simpler explanation, which is that I hadn't spoken to him since I'd gotten back from the US, and so we were overdue for a call. Still, the early morning phone call was unusual for him, and it struck me that perhaps we sense each other more than I'd originally imagined.
It reminded me of an incident with my brother while I was at home in the US, where he was asking me to guess something entirely random, with no context or clues. And so I just took a moment, stared into his eyes, and suddenly I knew the answer, exactly as though it had just come straight from his head into mine. He was startled when I told him the answer so confidently and correctly, and I explained quite honestly, that I'd just read his mind. And of course, I hadn't really, as I have no talent for ESP. Yet there is something about knowing someone particularly well, the thread that connects you, in a way that you can sense them and know their thoughts even without them saying a word. Those individuals in our lives are truly rare, but my brother is one. And perhaps the Young Dutchman is another.
In the evening, I was unsure if the Young Dutchman and I were due to meet for drinks, so I waited to hear from him, but got a text from him at around 8 PM that he was on his way over to the club. That meant I didn't have much time to change, but figuring I was only going out with him, I just threw on a black dress, left my hair straight, and dashed out of the house.
I spotted him as soon as I made it into the club, on the opposite side of the bar, and our eyes locked instantly. Yet I got waylaid on my way over to talk to him, and was then glad when he came and found me instead. I know sometimes I'm happy to leave him to be his social butterfly self, but tonight I'd really just come out to see him, and luckily he seemed to be of the same mind about me.
Someone got me a drink and we retired to a set of sofas, with him seated in a chair for one and me sitting on the arm of it to chat to him. It was really good to talk to him about my job offer, work, Google, and just catch up on each other for a bit. Eventually others came and joined us, I got a chance to talk to a few other people I hadn't spoken to in a while, but when he came back, despite other seats being open, he squeezed back in the chair with me. I don't know, it was funny, but we just wanted to be with each other this evening. He was doing his usual chatting up of pretty blondes at the bar occasionally, but you could tell his heart just wasn't in it.
At some point we ended up out at the bar, and I got separated from him for a bit, although our eyes kept meeting across the room. We were so bored with who we were talking to.
Then a dinner let out, and the bar became flooded with a few people, and although I got stuck chatting to some new chap from the O&C for a bit, I eventually escaped back to the side of the Young Dutchman. Where I then found him talking to a rather large Australian who looked like a former rugby player. Turned out he was, but then had given up rugby for rowing, and ended up rowing in the Olympics. Wow.
I then somehow ended up chatting to him by myself for a bit, and you could tell he was keen, but not quite sure what to say. (I've heard this is a problem with Olympic-level athletes, that they spend so much time training that they forget how to do normal human interaction). I was fine with cajoling the conversation however, until he said to me, "What are you doing later? Going to any parties?" I was vague (no way did I want to go out tonight), and then he asked, "You doing any lines tonight?" Ummm...drugs? No way. He might have meant it as an innocent question, but no way am I going to be interested in a guy who thinks that's in any way that's a good form of entertainment.
So I quickly moved myself away from him, and found myself thrust into conversation with an incredibly tall blonde guy I'd noticed earlier in the evening. Something about him struck me as very familiar, and I guess it was made clear when it was revealed that he was an Olympic rower of some merit, apparently rowing in several Olympics from Sydney 2000 onwards. I thought he was with some girl, but he seemed fine enough with chatting to me, and the Young Dutchman seemed to take to him as well, so I was fine spending time chatting with them. He was a very rough around the edges Australian, but amusing and interesting enough.
Things got a little bit awkward when he assumed that the Young Dutchman and I were a couple, leading to the awkward explanation that I never like to have to utter out loud. The Young Dutchman explained that our relationship is more sibling-like, and we're each other's dearest friends. Nobody ever seems to buy that, and when this guy pressed me further when the Young Dutchman had wandered away, I tried to clarify: "When you know you're going to be with somebody for the rest of your life, if that's a romantic relationship, there's only one way that ends, and neither of us are ready for marriage." Yet, this guy continued to press the point, that perhaps the Young Dutchman just needed to grow up a little, and then we'd get married.
I don't see this happening, but the fact remains that I'm the most significant, long-term female relationship in his life after his mother. And I have to admit, he's really the most important guy in my life outside of my family. And I feel about him more the way that his mother once described it to me, that we "are each other's family in London." Yet it's very hard to explain that closeness to people without them thinking that you must be harbouring some secret desire for each other. Maybe we are, but in which case, it's secret even from us!
Anyway, this guy seemed to finally accept that the Young Dutchman and I weren't a couple, and then turned more attention to me. I had to admit, that although he wasn't particularly smooth or charming, he was a very fit, tall, good-looking Australian. Even taller than the Tall South African. Not a bad way to amuse oneself for an evening.
He kept wrapping an arm around me, and grabbing my arse, which I didn't exactly mind, but I was too sober to even think of this going anywhere.
Made a comment about how I found him interesting, he apparently found me interesting too, saying "That's a very British thing to say." Then he asked for my card.
Didn't kiss him to say good-bye though, got so distracted jumping for a cab, as I wanted it to be clear I wasn't going home with him. A little too clear perhaps. Let's see if he ever gets in touch.
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