A Tour of the British Isles

Well I’m crushing… and hard.

After my recent experience of the 40-year old Welshman who, as I may remind you, has since gone back to the country from whence he came, I thought to myself… What next?

Well. How about a 40-year old Scotsman? Sounds like a good a plan as any.

Actually the Scot came about more as a product of coming home tipsy one night about a month and a half ago from who knows where and doing a search on my favorite free dating site to look for someone, anyone who had soccer listed as an interest. I took off all the usual search criteria… 5’10’ or taller, 30-37 years old, non-smoker, lives in the same city as me etc… you know, the usual. I just wanted to talk footie with someone dammitt… Is that so wrong? As luck would have it, there was someone who fit my high expectations of nothing other than he was alive, lived in the same hemisphere and liked soccer. True, I didn’t actually look any further than the picture of him in his kilt when I wrote… but hey… a Scotsman in a kilt who likes soccer is my kind of people. So write I did… something that seemed cheeky at the time given my state, but was more than likely not. But he responded anyway and we began a very sporadic dialogue of sorts.

As I never had any intention of meeting this fella I’d be lying if I said that I had actually paid any attention to his profile. In fact Girl was the one who pointed out to me as we started getting more chatty that he was listed as a heavy smoker… something that usually would prevent me from contacting someone in the first place. Of course I had NOT noticed that until she pointed it out but told her just as promptly “of course I know that… it’s written right there”. It was then that I kind of figured that having a go at the rest of the profile couldn’t hurt… 5’8”, 40, living in a city outside of T-dot that may or may not being with a B and yes… the smoking. But in a weird twist of fate, at that point none of that bothered me. We still weren’t any closer than meeting up and at that point, he was just a fun guy with which to discuss my favorite sport.

And then things took a turn. I’m not entirely sure when it happened, or what was said initially to turn it… but it was something along the lines of “hey, you are really great… we should meet”. And I guess we kind of never looked back from that point. It kind of sucked because I enjoyed talking to this man… and yes, for once I can say ‘man’ as opposed to ‘guy’ or ‘boy’… and I was going to be really quite sad to lose that once we met and things did not go so well… as they are apt to do for me most of the time. But there was no sense putting off the inevitable. We met on Saturday.

I am not sure what I was expecting but lord was I nervous. It had been a very long time since I have gone out on a date with any sort of expectation over and above meeting someone as a possible friend. So I was nervous but looking forward to it more than I would have admitted to anyone I think. My first impression was that he was definitely not even 5’8”… something that in the past that has always miffed me. This time it didn’t. It didn’t at all.

I wish I had some juicy details but I don’t. The date lasted for close to 8 hours, during which time we talked about pretty much everything. Of course Bea was Bea and spent probably a bit too much time espousing her love for William Shatner and other various Star Trek actors… but I have since heard that is was endearing so I’m over it. But no juicy tidbits to share because it was quite possibly the most adult date I had ever been on with… a perfect gentleman who was raised to respect women. He didn’t jump me, we didn’t get hammered out of our tree and do something that we’d both regret… We just talked and laughed and generally had a nice time. It was an odd feeling spending time with someone like that. I hardly knew what to make of it.

And now? Not entirely sure. We’ve been in pretty much constant contact ever since but I think we’re both too chickensh*t to throw ourselves out there… to make the first move to ask to see the other again. We’ve danced around it enough though… so much so that my feet are getting tired from it.

Will keep you posted as further details arise.

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