Mr. Amazingly Gorgeous

Well, I had dinner with Mr. Amazingly Gorgeous last night.  It wasn’t under the best of circumstances, after all, I’d just soaked his shirt with red wine.  However, after some twists and turns to the evening, I have to say that it all turned out just fine.

I was on a layover, and despite the fact that he seemed very nice, I wasn’t willing to give out the name and location of our crew hotel.  You just can’t be too careful these days, and we guard our personal information zealously.  Instead, he gave me the name and address of a conveniently located bar and I agreed to meet him there.

It was a quick-change operation for me.  Get to the hotel, shower, change, realize that I have no sexy, adorable, hot looking clothes packed with me, do hair and make up, and resolve myself to having to pull off the evening in a moderately cute black outfit.  It’s either that or my birthday suit, as there is nothing else in my suitcase.

I grabbed a cab, walked into the bar, didn’t see Mr. A.G., so found a table, ordered a glass of wine and waited for him to arrive.  Not for a moment did I think he wouldn’t show up.  My only worry was would I recognize him without the wine-stained shirt.

When he walked into the bar, the first thing that I noticed was the air of confidence that he exuded.  That, and his beautiful eyes.  And, after he ordered a bottle of wine for us, his exceedingly good taste in wine.  We talked and talked over the bottle of wine, then moved into dinner and another bottle of wine.

I learned:  That his name was Patrick, that he had moved to the city within the last year for his job (something to do with sports), that he was a great conversationalist, and had a good sense of humor.  Before we knew it, we had blown through an evening of drinks, dinner, and were now winding down.  I’d been having a GREAT time, but noticed that he hadn’t engaged in any of those little flirtatious moves (touching my arm or leg, brushing up against me, holding my hand, etc.), so figured that I had just met someone who could become a very good friend.

As we walked out of the restaurant, he hailed a cab, and as the car was pulling over to the curb, he put his arms around me and kissed me – slowly and sweetly, yet so very sexy.  He took his thumb and ran it over my lips, whispering that he would like to see me again.

“Give me your phone number,” he said.  I hesitated for a moment, wondering if giving it out would be okay.  I think he realized that I was having a sudden moment of concern, however foolish that might have seen.  “Your email then,” he added, “until you’re sure that I’m not some psycho.”  I wrote my email address on the back of his business card and got into the cab.  He leaned in and gave the driver some money, telling him to take me wherever I needed to go, then gave me a final kiss on the cheek and closed the door.

I got back to my hotel and into my room about half an hour later.  There was already an email from Mr. A.G. wanting to know when we could get together again.

A great evening, and all because of a terrible-two toddler and a bottle of red wine.