Some guys, they just have it. There’s no denying it, they have charisma, looks, the body, the charm. They were designed to make women go weak at the knees, completely disregarding any evidence that would suggest that was a bad idea.
Introducing American Chris. He’s some kind of bond broker, he earns a fortune, lives in central London and is a complete hunk. Whilst he claims he doesn’t have to work that hard, presumably he must have worked pretty hard to get to where he is, as he isn’t from a hugely privileged background. Regardless, we get chatting on Tinder one weekend, by the end of Sunday night, he’s given me a nickname and we’ve arranged a date for that Wednesday.
He seems easy going and relaxed. I look forward to meeting him, because I think that his company will be as easy as the phone call. I don’t anticipate the effect that his looks will have on my ability to converse like a normal human. Bloody hormones.
Employment – Bond broker
Age – mid thirties
Nationality – American
Interests – Gym, shopping, shoes
Source – Tinder
Anatomy – Muscular, well built, handsome, dark hair, beautifully dressed, deep American accent. Ladies and gents, if you don’t fancy him, you must like girls instead.
We arrange to meet in this beautiful bar in Rosewood London, and the rest, is history.
American Chris messaged me to tell me that he’d chosen a bar during the day. This is a small point, but worth mentioning in light of the level of professionalism with which this date was executed. It is so annoying the number of dates which I have been on where I have no clue what is happening (or indeed if we are still meeting) until the eleventh hour. American Chris was no such amateur. He chose a beautiful bar, a time, and told me he would meet me there.
My only reservation would be that he warned me:
No religion or politics
By the time I arrived, he had secured us a table for two and was waiting for me. I rang him, unsure how to locate him in a crowded bar, and he directed me towards him:
“Keep walking, keep walking, turn left at the piano and then you’ll see me.”
And see him I did, he was the most attractive man in the bar, dressed in a jacket, shirt without a tie and dark trousers, everything about him oozed class. Only momentarily did his act falter; when as he greeted me, I thought he seemed a little bit nervous. He was a little hesitant and awkward.
We ordered a drink, the staff were welcoming and helpful, and I basked in the attention of the most beautiful man in the bar. He loved that I’m creative, we talked about my work, my aspirations, my dreams for the future. He told me about his family, his mum and his upbringing. He was open, interesting and engaging.
The bar was a perfect date venue, even on a Wednesday evening, it was busy enough for there to be no empty tables, there was plenty of atmosphere, and a jazz musician was singing to an appreciative crowd.
“Would you like to go for dinner?” he asked, as though I would refuse him.
“Of course, that would be lovely,” I replied.
When he went to the gents, he paid the bill for the bar, and asked for a menu for the hotel restaurant, the Holborn Dining Rooms. After checking that there was something on there that I was happy to eat, he asked the waiter to fix us a table at the restaurant, and this was easily arranged without fuss.
We moved over from the bar to the restaurant, which is just opposite, and past a beautiful entrance courtyard. There, we were seated at the end of the booth, and I as I became more and more attracted to American Chris, the more difficult I found it to talk to him. I became shy, a different version of myself. I began to try and anticipate what he would want me to say.
Ultimately, he still made me feel like a princess. I began to press him on his political thoughts, and it soon became apparent to me why he wouldn’t want me to ask.
“I’m a republican, I would vote for Trump.”
“But how could you vote for him in light of what he says about women?”
Of course, this is completely indefensible, so American Chris didn’t try, but he did point out
Oh, she digs!
I wondered whether he was genuinely annoyed that I had asked, or was just bemused by a woman with opinions. Apparently, I had broken the first rule of dating an American man: don’t ask about politics.
At the end of the night, he told me that I was cute and super creative. When I went to the ladies, he paid the bill, which avoided the awkwardness of suggesting we split the bill. I really appreciated that kind of old-fashioned charm and consideration.
He took my hand and walked me back to the train station. As my Brazilian colleague pointed out to me, for an English person, this is as intimate as it gets.
At the train station, he pulled me close to him,
“Your eyes are amazing,” he whispered, whilst he pulled me closer to him by putting his thumbs into my coat pockets and gently tugging me towards him. And then he kissed me.
Sadly, that was the last I saw of American Chris. As beautiful as our date together was, over the next few days, he began to cease contact. First rule of internet dating: if it seems too good to be true, it almost certainly is. Guys like him don’t go for girls like me.