It’s the day after Boxing Day, 2020.
I’m back home after spending a lovely, quiet Christmas with my parents, and now I’m getting ready to meet Stephen for the first time.
I’ve chosen my favourite dress, added some accessories and put on a little make-up. I’ve made an effort, but I’ve stayed true to myself. I feel pretty, confident and ready to meet this new man who has somehow become such a significant part of my thoughts in such a short space of time.
I make the fifteen-minute drive to the park where we’ve arranged to meet.
I’ve never been there before, although I’ve studied the location on Google Maps so I know roughly where I’m going. The weather is good. It’s cold, but dry, and the sun is shining.
I enter the park through the gate opposite the one Stephen will use and make my way down towards the lake. According to our plan, I’ll walk anti-clockwise and he’ll walk clockwise, so we’ll eventually meet somewhere along the path.
I send him a quick message to let him know I’ve started.
And then I set off.
I’m excited, but underneath the excitement is a little apprehension. This is the moment when everything we’ve imagined through our messages has to become real.
I walk briskly around the lake, wondering when I’ll see him.
The minutes seem to stretch.
I’ve already made my way around half the lake and there’s still no sign of him. I approach a wooded section and think, It must be soon.
I’m also slightly conscious that I’m about to leave the open space around the lake and enter the trees.
Then, just seconds after I walk beneath the canopy, I see a man approaching me.
He looks like Stephen.
This looks like him.
As we get closer, I’m certain.
He ambles towards me while I’m striding towards him, and my first thought is that he’s good-looking — just as good-looking as I had imagined from his photographs.
He’s wearing a blue shirt printed with fern leaves, blue jeans, trainers and a classic tweed blazer. Across his body is a small man’s bag.
I notice his clothes immediately.
He’s clearly given some thought to what he’s wearing, but there’s also something carefree about the combination, as though he’s thrown everything together without worrying too much about whether it all matches.
I like it.
He looks effortlessly cool.
Then his face lights up when he sees me.
He smiles, and almost immediately he makes an involuntary little growling sound as he looks me up and down.
I’m slightly disarmed by the reaction.
It’s intense, but it also seems completely spontaneous, so I take it as a compliment.
He finds me attractive.
Very attractive.
We hug and exchange a quick kiss before continuing in the direction he’d just come from.
Almost immediately, he takes my hand.
As we walk through the woods, he keeps looking me up and down. I’m no stranger to a man checking me out, but I’ve never experienced anything quite like this. There’s a very obvious physical attraction between us, and although it makes me feel slightly self-conscious, I also have to admit that I love being looked at like that.
After days of talking to someone through a screen, there is something thrilling about suddenly being wanted by the person standing beside me.
Eventually, we leave the woods and make our way back towards the lake, where we find a bench.
Stephen rolls a cigarette.
I remember that we both described ourselves as occasional smokers on our dating profiles, so I’m slightly surprised that he wants to smoke so soon.
I don’t mind particularly, but I do wonder whether his idea of “occasional” might be rather different from mine.
We talk about how I look.
He tells me again how beautiful I am, that I look fit and that I’m quite small. He tells me he’s used to being with bigger women.
I laugh and tell him that I don’t consider myself particularly fit, although I appreciate that he sees me that way.
The conversation continues easily.
We’re already talking about what we might do next, and I suggest that we drive to the village where I work. I can take him for a walk along the canal and show him the lock, as well as pointing out the large house where I work every day.
It’s a simple suggestion, but neither of us seems particularly keen for the date to end.
We make the short drive and park up.
Before we get out of the car, Stephen hands me two wrapped presents.
I’m completely taken aback.
I haven’t brought him anything.
The presents have handmade labels attached to them, with words written on them that seem surprisingly intimate and romantic considering we’ve only just met.
I don’t quite know what to make of it.
The first present is a bottle of Hendrick’s gin. That makes sense because I’d mentioned during our conversations how much I like it.
The second is a DVD of The Last of the Mohicans.
Stephen knows I haven’t seen it, but it’s one of his favourite films.
They’re thoughtful gifts, but the labels make me feel a little uncomfortable. The words seem to suggest that we’re further along in our relationship than we actually are.
I say something that makes him a little embarrassed.
He shyly asks for one of the labels back, wanting to take it away and destroy it.
Before he can, I grab it.
“I’ll keep it,” I tell him.
And I do.
We leave the car and walk along the canal.
The conversation continues easily. We’re getting on remarkably well, and the chemistry that had existed through our messages is very much there in person.
There is laughter, attraction and an increasing sense that neither of us is quite ready for the afternoon to end.
We sit on another bench, and Stephen lights another cigarette.
He’s also becoming increasingly physical with me, finding reasons to touch me and making it very clear that he’s attracted to me.
I enjoy being desired.
After all the uncertainty about whether our chemistry would translate from the screen into real life, there is no question now.
It has.
Eventually, we get back into the car and drive to a disused cinema car park.
There, we fool around.
For a moment, I feel like a teenager again — excited, giddy and swept up in the thrill of something completely new.
When the afternoon finally comes to an end, I drive Stephen home.
Neither of us seems quite ready to say goodbye.
So we make arrangements for me to come back later that evening.
Our first date isn’t over yet.
