What I didn't mention was another engagement I'd arranged for Sunday: A clandestine meeting of Super Awesomeness (and that's the first of a few clues I'll be letting slip as to the identity of my 'date')!
Sunday duly arrived, and I made my way to Ealing Broadway Starbucks where we were to meet. I was a bit early and had got a double tall latte and a position by the door.
A few minutes after I'd settled down, my 'date' arrived. Introductions were heralded by a faux-surprised look, a cheeky point and a sexy, sexy grin. I couldn't have melted faster had a bucket of water been thrown over me!
I rose from my chair like a giraffe with ricketts, managing to almost kick over a display of coffee beans or somesuch. Nervousness and anticipation had turned me into a graceless clod (although, in hindsight, I could've used the clumsiness to 'accidently' fall on him, Herr Lipp style). Still, he didn't recoil in horror and run screaming from the shop, so my spackertastic oafishness can't have been that bad.
Anyway, once his coffee had been purchased, we moved outside because it was - in spite of it being a bank holiday weekend - a beautifully sunny day. There we discussed, amongst other things, TV, films, work, cars, moving house, Bloggers, Sexy Sexy Ponies (not in a beastiality-way) and The Shat.
I got tongue-tied more than once - imagine a gumby with a mouth full of gobstoppers and you'll get the idea - due in no small part to his utter 'Rawr'-ness. The pictures you may have seen of my 'date' do not do him justice, as good as they are. He cut quite a dash in his printed white T-shirt (which was filled most impressively with broad shoulders and a well-defined chest), jeans (which were filled most impressively with - Ooh, I'd better stop there as I'm writing this at work. I don't want to come over all unneccessary in front of everyone) and his infamous white trainers. In the flesh, he is almost O-inducingly sexy - Thank heavens I'd kept at my pelvic floor exercises!
Having said that, not once did I make any lascivious comment or pervy innuendo.
I did, however, manage to obtain a sample of his saliva (by swabbing the rim of his coffee mug while he was in the loo) and one of his hairs (by feigning brushing a wasp away), so should Singletondom turn into Bitter Spinsterhood, I can brew a potent spell to change his sexuality to one more compatible with mine!
Mwah hah hah hah ha!
Blast! He's probably reading this. Why is it that all Villains see the need to disclose their diabolical and dastardly schemes with all and sundry. It must be part of our genetic code...
P.S. I know I said I probably wouldn't post anything until the end of the week, but this was too good a story to keep to myself. Plus, I'm at lunch but can't leave the building because I left my swipecard at home, so this was too good an opportunity to waste.
P.P.S. Yes I know there are no pictures. I was so awestruck that I forgot to take any. With my disposable camera. Which he ridiculed...