Perfection in man form

I had my first ever first-date last night. Don't get me wrong, there have been boyfriends, just no first date.

A is perfection in man form. We were introduced by AH, a mutual friend (who I owe muchos drinks to for setting us up!) and after much texting in the intervening two weeks, we met up last night for what was supposedly a quick drink.

Three hours later, we went home, having had a long chat about... pretty much everything. Families, futures, college, school, uni, friends, sport, music, God, America, the definition of 'modern history'. You name it, it was probably discussed.

Of course, at some point he did inevitably discover that I am certifiably crazy and a complete control freak with major OCD issues. So he spent the next hour or so pushing my drink (which he paid for - gotta love a proper gentleman) around the table, knowing that he was driving me nuts.

But he was so adorably gorgeous, sweet, funny, caring, cute, etc, etc, that I could easily put up with the drink-pushing.

I did manage to say the dumbest, blondest things ever. "Do they have camels in Texas?" I don't know, Jelly, why the hell would there be camels in Texas?! I have no idea what possessed me to say something so blatantly stupid.

My only gripe is that he loves to travel, wants to see the world. I want to stay in the UK, permanently. But I guess that's a difference that we can iron out should we ever need to (not that I imagine it will get to that point, given my history of mucking up relationships).

I have no idea what he thought of the evening, other than AH assured me via text this morning (while I was supposedly hard at work in the office) that she'll get all the goss off him tonight, and his so-far lack of texts post-date is just him being 'a typical man, not wanting to seem too keen'.

Or so I hope...