He was late, 17 minutes late to be precise. He arrived to the booth where I was with zero sense of urgency and smiled. After the initial mandatory life summary from both parties and the nerves had settled I asked him who the hell he thought he was that he could not show up on time. I was mid way through a “you’re lucky I was still here” rant when he grabbed my face, looked me straight in the eye said ‘sorry’ and kissed me like every girl wants to be kissed – like he meant it.
It was Tuesday and he invited me to come with him to Edinburgh on the following Friday. I said no and he said ‘I like you Irish girl’. He complimented me several times. I didn’t believe a word he said and laughed when he told me he was a “good boy” but I wanted to, and I could feel myself being sucked in by his smile, his cheekiness and his laid back confidence. I asked where he had learned his charm tactics but he unconvincingly reassured that there is no such thing as charm school in Argentina and the problem was purely that I apparently just hadn’t met a ‘real’ man like him.
Apparently my colourful dating history has turned me into a cynic. I ignore compliments and assume every man that dates me will find me, eventually fuck me then fuck off. Where are we going wrong? Our friends tell us things like all the good ones are taken or that you are picking the wrong ones. Another phrase we constantly hear is that we should “choose for personality not looks”. That reads well but when was the last time you actually wanted to kiss someone you weren’t attracted to and when you did, what were you thinking when you did go to kiss that person for the first time because it couldn’t have been that rush of excitement you are supposed to get?
My friend Luke and I have theory. You get to pick two items from the following selection of three:
- Very attractive
- Good in bed