I still don’t know what to think of him.
When I saw him coming towards me at Liverpool Street Station, I couldn’t help but reflect on how handsome he was. His suit suited him very well. We walked towards Shoreditch, and it was refreshing to find that he was something rather different when outside the rather poisonous world of the theatre. His camp theatrics had been replaced by something more of a quiet charm, and I found myself drawn to him.
We ate dinner at a pleasant Turkish restaurant on Brick Lane. Sunset Boulevard provided an ample source of conversation, but beyond it there was something easy and refreshing about him. Perhaps he was showing off a little. Perhaps my desire for him blinded me to some of his faults.
After dinner we talked more, arranged to meet up next week, whereupon he walked me to Shoreditch High Street Overground station. After kissing me once on the cheek and a hug, we said goodbye. He is either a perfect gentleman or he just wants to be friends. Whichever it is I’m not sure. Stay tuned.
In some ways I like his unreadable character. He is unfathomable, a riddle which I can never unravel. I feel I want to see where this could lead, but I worry being hurt by what I suspect is a slightly selfish streak. But as I say, he is a difficult personalty to make out.
He messaged me that same evening saying he hoped I enjoyed myself. I said that I did, and told him how dapper he looked in his suit. Any hopes of a flirty exchange of messages was soon swept under the carpet. He does not take the flirtatious hooks when they are there. And yet, he seems interested.
He is a mystery to me. A delightful mystery. A handsome mystery.
I can only hope he finds me as enchanting as I find him.