Where we met: Tinder
Housemate: “I can’t believe he’s taking you to The Savoy! What you gonna wear?” – “I dunno, its not a really a place to have your nipples out”.
I googled the location and jumped on the tube (ended up in Prostitute alley and had to call an Uber). The driver was sceptical of my reasons for visiting The Savoy (in my chosen PVC, I cant afford leather, trousers): “So who are you meeting” – “oh just a really good friend from South Africa. We haven’t seen eachother in months” – “pretty nice place to meet “a friend”.
I arrived at The Savoy and wished farewell to my driver (“literally he’s just a friend!!”) reached the entrance (and didn’t recognise my “really good friend” and accidentally confused him for the concierge).
We went into the American bar, and sat at the bar for cocktails whilst I asked questions about his career: “So you said you’re at your lab tomorrow night? Do you make, like alcoholic potions?!” – “No I make cocktails” – “But it is similar, you know like Potions lesson?!” – “Harry Potter isn’t real”.
So we moved off this topic (stopped talking) and I got distracted by the nibbles:
“These are delicious! Sorry I haven’t eaten (in years)”
“Is there any spirits you don’t like?”
“Oh anything I’m not fussy” (I pretend to be allergic to everything because I hate 90% of food).
My date, being from the industry knew a lot of the bartenders (and wanted to get to know one more in particular).
“Oh Maria, it’s so great to see a woman behind the bar, you have fantastic rhythm” I smiled (as the pair continue to make prolonged eye contact).
And I became that person.
After I had my photo taken (one hundred photos later – then also borrowing the bartenders phone to take more as I refuse to believe that is what my face looks like) I took my seat back at the bar (stole the bartenders phone and messaged myself all the photos) and sipped my bespoke cocktail:
“What do you think?”
“Ergh – tastes like I’m drinking a celery stick. Pass the snacks.”
“Well make sure you eat the cherry it’s infused full of flavours from the cocktail.”
I’ve had a run in with a fruit once before on a first date and it didn’t end well. (But my date was beginning to eye up Maria again so I stuck the balls of SATAN in my mouth).
“What do you think?”
After I finished (spat out) my cherry my date mentioned he would be doing a cocktail demonstration this Wednesday and asked the bartender, Dave if he wanted to come. Sadly he didn’t invite me (but fortunately I invited myself).
“Hey Dave, why don’t I come with you – I’m not doing anything?”
“Erm.. well I spose – yeah?”
“Sweet. I’ve already put my number in your phone” (who says I can’t network).
The evening ended and I walked to the station with my date.
“I guess I’ll see you Wednesday then?!”