This is Part 2 of the British Guy series. If you missed Part 1 you can read it right here.
I woke up the next morning on Cloud 9, still in shock that I had met a cool guy, had a great time with him, AND that I had finally accomplished the first step of my summer project. At this point I didn’t even care what happened for the rest of the day!
We spoke that afternoon and made plans to grab dinner again for our date that night and then take it from there. In true Jeri fashion, my mind raced all day thinking, hoping, and stressing about that night. What if tonight isn’t as good as last night? What if we have nothing to talk about? What if he realizes I’m a huge dork? What if everything goes perfectly? Is it just me or do you guys get just as nervous for a second date as you do for a first?
The evening finally arrived and I got dressed, had a shot (only 1 this time) and jumped into a cab to meet him. When I got to our meeting spot he was already there looking just as cute as I remembered. Phew! As we walked to the restaurant I was relieved to find that he was also just as lovely as the night before and that he seemed as happy to see me as I was to see him. Double phew! My worries were beginning to fade and by the time we got to the restaurant and ordered I was starting to calm down and just enjoy the moment.
The dinner was great and so was the conversation. I learned that he had his own house and lived in the countryside in England, that he had a trampoline in his backyard just for sh*ts and gigs, and other similarly quirky things that I tend to find particularly endearing. Once dinner was done, just like the night before, it was clear that neither of us was ready to say goodbye, and it was equally clear that we were both feeling a little haggard from last night’s drinking and late night of making whoopee (hehe). He suggested that we go for a drink at the bar in his hotel, I stay over, and he drive me home the next morning. If any other guy had suggested this, I’d be all “Excuuuuuuse me mister, ain’t that a little presumptuous?” But in this case I was all “YES YES YES that is the best idea ever did you read my mind maybe we should get married!”.
So that’s what we did.
Go back to his hotel, not get married 😛
And it was the best.
We grabbed some beers and sat at the bar, but we soon decided to take them to his room to hang there instead. Now I don’t mean to sound cliche, but it was just so fun to be there with him, and it truly felt like we had known each other for ages. Even though I knew this entire time that he was going back to England at the end of the week, and that we may never see each other again after tonight, I didn’t care. I’d been on a slew of bad dates back at home and was starting to lose hope that I’d ever meet someone I actually enjoyed, so it was refreshing for me to feel this excitement and connection with someone. If his only role in my life was to reignite some hope in me, it was worth it.
The next morning we woke up, and he got ready for work as I got ready for my drive home of shame. Even on the car ride to my house he was adorable, and I couldn’t believe we had to part ways for what was very possibly forever. As we got off the highway and neared my place, I got this sudden pain in my stomach, and tears started to well up in my eyes. Was this really happening? Was it possible I was having a physical reaction to saying bye to this British dude? Was I about to cry over a 24-hour affair? Oh my.
When we pulled up to my house it was obvious that I was on the verge of tears, but I managed to keep it together while I swear I saw a tiny amount of shine in his eyes too! We said goodbye with no talk of a “next time”, but he did ask if we could at least keep in touch and try to Skype sometime, which made me happy enough for the moment. It made no sense to decide on any kind of commitment at that point, and I was happy to see if this little fling could at least last for a video call or two.
Once I got into my house, I was so sad yet so happy at the same time. I responded to all the missed calls and texts from my friends who were dying to know how the night went, had some breakfast and then took a little celebratory nap.
When I woke up it was still midday which meant so much time before my friends were done work and I can go verbal diarrhea on them about the details of my night. So while I tried to pass the time I did what any girl with hearts in her eyes would do- I looked him up on Facebook.
Since he had told me his last name the night before, his open profile was way easy to find. I became instantly excited to see anything I could about his digital life, until I clicked on his profile picture to get a better view.
Hmmmmm, who is this girl in a wedding dress next to him? Must be his sister. Let me look at the other pictures.
Wait she’s in the next one too, and the next… and who are these little girls in most of them too, he must really love his nieces… I tried to convince myself.
As I clicked though the pictures my heart began to sink. I couldn’t deny it.
Oh no. No no no no no.
The girls were his wife and kids.
Stay tuned for the final post of the British Guy series, which I’d like to call “The Confrontation”.