Coffee?

Occasionally, I get invited to events that are filled with people I don’t know. I’m a confident girl (well, a least, I can give that impression), but on a warm summers eve in June, I was a little nervous. I was going to the event with my dear friend Louise. We knock back a glass of wine before heading to the event, just before 7pm. Glamed up, we know that whatever happens we’ll have a fun night.

It turns out that we know lots of people at the pre-event reception, and a few Kir-Royales later and we’re off to the main event. Then, at around 11pm, Phil appears. Dressed in a tux, he looks so gorgeous; I go weak at the knees. He approaches me, says hello and kisses my cheek. I barely know the guy- I’ve been watching him from a distance for 4 years. We’ve spoken a few times but it’s all been work related. I’ve had a few drinks (too many) so my confidence is not an issue. We chat for a bit, and then we all head inside to the dance floor. We barely speak, but seem to enjoy each other’s company.

Before I know it, it’s 2am. I’m drunk, hot and need some air. Louise gives me a wink and we head outside and find ourselves a table. Phil follows. He sits remarkably close to me on the bench. A few others join us. We chat for what felt like hours – no flirting, just chatting. As the sun begins to rise, Louise and I decide to get a taxi, and Phil decides to come with us. Louise gets out at her house, and as soon as the door is closed and I give instructions to my house, Phil asks me if he can come in for coffee.

And so the dilemma begins. I mean, I have had the most ridiculous crush on him for years, but there was no lead up to his question – no flirting, no wandering hands, and no implication that there was anything in it apart from a drunken shag. The taxi ride is too short for me to make my decision. He pays the cab driver and gets out with me. This is it. Deep breath.

I actually make him coffee. I’m not sure if this is the done thing, but had he even attempted to kiss me before hand I’ve no doubt that we would have been all over each other as we were walking through the door and moving straight to the bedroom. But that build up didn’t happen – coffee it was.

It didn’t take him long to remove the cup of coffee from my hands – the alcohol was wearing off and I was clearly nervous. His hands begin to wander and panic hits me – I am wearing massive pants in the style of Bridget Jones. There was no time to run away and remove them and before I know it he is smiling. “Well these are going to have to come off”… he’s smiling in a Hugh Grant way, and before I know it we’re in bed, naked.

It was fun, relaxed and I think we both had a good time. But it was more than obvious that it wasn’t going to go further than this. Physically it was all there, but something wasn’t clicking. He soon leaves, and I fall asleep.

The weeks that followed were mentally challenging – my friends were excited, but I knew deep down it wasn’t going anywhere. I bit the bullet and emailed him – the response was that he’d starting seeing someone else – either a good excuse or quick work on his part. Another one bights the dust.