I don’t like Summer. It’s not an important observation, but it’s something i’ve always felt. I think that we mainly like summer because it makes us think of our childhood when the days would never end and we didn’t have school. Summer is a kind of innocence, a way of escaping the harsh realities of the world — this is relevant to this post.
At the end of summer, I went on a date. It was probably the best date I have ever been on. I matched with a guy through a certain dating app, one with a white flame that everyone uses. We spoke intensely for quite a few days and by the end of the week, he agreed to come down to my hometown for us to have a date. I agreed to meet him at the train station, as I was waiting there, so many thoughts went through my head. My biggest fear was that there would be a clear indication of no interest right at the start and that I would have to still endure the date.
I turned and saw my date coming towards me, it was pretty hard to indicate whether or not I liked him as he had a mask on (it’s just mad thinking about that complete sentence). Anyway, he took it off and he was honestly beautiful. He had a warm smile, he was dressed impeccably and had these lovely thick brown eyes. We hugged, albeit awkwardly (yes, social distancing went straight out of the window). We walked and talked, introduced ourselves properly and cut straight to it. I suggested we headed to the beach, it was summer after all, and it was the ideal setting.
We were walking along the beach and just talking. It felt like I had known this guy for so long and that we had been a couple for ages, a silly thought I know. He asked tough questions, like he had known me forever and that it was coming from a place of a concerned friend, he also opened up about himself. The date progressed, we then sat in this small park. We spoke more, he came closer to me and kept putting his hand on my thigh, it was an eyeopening moment.
Annoyingly it started to rain, we both quickly got up and he grabbed my hand as we walked. I had never held another man’s hand in public before. It was a liberating experience, for those moments, I did not care who saw me. I was with this guy and I was pleased to be there. As I looked over at him, part of me wanted this to be the one, for this to be my first proper meaningful relationship.
We walked through the town, yes — I make my dates walk quite a bit — and we sat in a small coffee shop. We spent a good hour or so talking, he gave me a flirty look throughout and kept making gestures to me, whether it be touching my hand, my thigh, whatever. We laughed, we spoke and we connected so much. While we were in the coffee store, he said “When is our next date then?”. It was so amazing, I could not believe it.
After having coffee, we walked through these little back streets in my town, it’s what it’s partly known for. It was cute, however we were getting closer to the train station for him to go home. As we were walking up this hill, he turned left and looked at this little alley way — I say alley, but it was far cuter than that. There was flowers on the walls and little flower pots everywhere. He suggested we walked down it, I agreed to it. We walked down this little back road holding hands, I loved every second of it. As we got to the end of the alley, he turned to me and held both of my hands at the same time, he then laughed at me as it was clear I had a sizeable erection — he enjoyed the fact he had that power over me. He then kissed me, it was the perfect moment. We kissed so more and then reappeared out of the alley way. I carried on walking him to the station and we went our separate ways, with another date to come soon.
Just over a week later, there was a second date. This time, I went to London to see him. I met him at the station there, similar to what I had done the week before. We then went to the local gallery. There was one big issue this time though, the connection seemed to have gone. Where was the hand-holding? the kissing? the cute gestures? They had all gone. This guy was now not sure of whether he was wanting to date seriously or not. I was really hurt, the day was still pleasant though. We said our goodbyes and I made my way home. That evening, I went to bed and I cried a lot, I was distraught. My first proper chance of happiness in a long time seemed to have died.
I tried to build a communication channel with him afterwards, but there has been nothing. At least i’ll always have that first date. The image for this post is of the plant I bought him for that second date — we had a bit of a joke about succulents. Let’s hope the plant lived longer than this encounter.