Two Hearts Beating As One

Full of pleasurable anticipation I dress carefully for our second meeting. Smart jeans, a favourite shirt, a soft dark blue cashmere jumper that I bought especially for tonight and my lucky jacket. After a string of disastrous relationships I’ve been single for more than eighteen months now. Previously I tried various newspaper-based and online dating sites. But all to no avail. Having more or less accepted that sweet romance and successful relationships were just not meant to be part of my life I, with more than a little trepidation, accepted a dinner invitation from a friend who had clearly decided to play Cupid. Her instincts spot on her work colleague and I got on well during the evening but only on a very superficial level; both of us embarrassed at the interest in us from others around the table. We discretely swopped cards as the party broke up and texted each other a few times before setting a date for this evening. We’ve not talked since our introduction and I’m looking forward to hearing his voice again.  

I arrive a little early and order a beer. The restaurant – one I’ve always wanted to try – specialises in French cuisine and I’m convinced that if the food is as good as the smells coming from the kitchen we won’t be disappointed. Distracted in my attempt to identify the species of tropical fish in the tank near the bar I shiver slightly when my date touches my shoulder. I look up into his beautiful brown eyes and the shock of the desire I feel renders me speechless. Aware of my discomfort he strokes my arm gently and begins to talk about his journey giving me time to compose myself.

After a drink we move to our table and begin our first course. The butterflies in my stomach don’t stop me eating or drinking and by the end of the night we’ve demolished three courses each and a bottle of good claret plus a final couple of drinks at the bar. The food and drink is significant in that it provides just one example of our shared taste. Add to this music, literature and film preferences, a love of travel and an interest in nature. There is no competitive one-upmanship as we talk, no passive-aggressive game playing. Neither of us speaks over the other, seemingly, magically, already in tune with each others’ thought processes and more than willing to listen rather than to talk. I couldn’t tell you now what any of what we ate or drank tasted like so preoccupied was I with our conversation and the electricity that crackled between us. I do remember though the redness of his tongue and the shape of his mouth, not to mention his throat when he swallowed. I stretch my leg and it brushes against his. The push back from his foot encourages me to respond and we play footsy like teenagers whilst we eat our cheese; both of us like to avoid sugar and enjoy a spot of blue for a treat.

Back at the bar we sit close; our thighs touching. The tension I feel now is almost unbearable and I can tell it’s the same for him. As we drink our brandy we talk a little about our dissatisfaction with past relationships and what we most desire from a partnership. Soon we begin to focus on our intimate desires; something I’m not used to sharing. I feel no discomfort though, only excitement. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy, this hopeful. Without having to say anything we both know that we’ll be leaving together.

Taking out my phone to call us a cab I ask; ‘so how did you vote in the EU Referendum?’

Twenty minutes later I’m travelling home alone.