So, Friday night, huh? How was yours? Mine... Pretty darn good. As you may recall, Friday was "Date Night", Where Husband and I pretended not to know each other and we would 'start over for one night'. We were to meet at Icon Bar in Leicester Square, I was to arrive at 6pm to set the "scene", which I have to say... I did rather well. Really I should be an actress. I walked into the bar at 6.08pm, looking rather hurried and glancing around to see if I recognized anyone. The bar was empty except for a few people stood out on the balcony. I strutted to the bar and climbed gracefully onto a stool, fixing my hair and adjusting my cleavage. "Hi" I said. "Has anyone been looking for me?" The bar men looked confused for a second and then replied no. "I'm on a blind date" I told them, "I'm suppose to meet David here at 6pm and I'm a little late." This, sparked their interest "I've never met him before, and I haven't a clue what he looks like so do me a favor and if David comes in and resembles the hunch back of notre dame, please don't reveal my identity" we laughed and then after declaring he thought I was very brave to which I responded "or very desperate" he asked what I would like to drink. "mmm, something sweet, please, and make sure it's got something in it to give me a little courage"
Seems the Icon Bar has the gem of a very talented Mixologist. These are my favourite kind of people. We named this the Mystic Sunrise, and although I wish I could tell you what he put in it, I cannot. As he was making it he explained he never made off the menu, he always invented his own and with reason because it was beautiful! Strawberry something... It worked for me, and boy did it have a kick! After much praise too my new favourite mixologist we continued to discuss my blind date for this evening. I was the only single friend left in my group and so of course any eligible bachelor my married friends met were instantly offered up to me, who was quite happy to except a drinking and-possibly-more buddy for one night. So I wasn't looking for Mr. Right? he asked. "No no! I'm much to busy to be bothered with all that 'why haven't you called' shit". He nods, declares he likes me and I raise my glass to him, smiling "There is a lot to like".
We chat for another 5-10 minutes about how long I should give David before I leave, since it is now broaching on 6.20pm, when a hot young lady from a private party out on the balcony comes up to the bar. She asks, if I'm with the party, "No" I say "But if my blind date doesn't show up I very well might be crashing it". Another one nabbed. You're on a blind date? She asks, shocked. So I tell her the story and she insists that if David is not at the bar by 6.30 I must join their party because no man is worth waiting 30 minutes for. To this, I agree wholeheartedly and after another few snide remarks towards men of David's kind, she rejoins her party with a reminder that I must come get her once I have given up waiting... So it seems, the scene. Is set.
6.32pm, Husband walks into the bar. I catch him out of the corner of my eye, having a look around and then coming up to the bar on my left to regard the wine menu. I trying to keep casual, ask my favourite new mixologist if he'd mind watching my bag while I popped out to the balcony for a smoke. Of course, he says, anything for my favourite new lady. I retreat to the balcony to allow Husband to set his scene, to interact with the bar staff and to find his footing. I saunter back into the bar and clock Husband sat in a comfortable alcove to the left of the bar (see the picture below) with a glass of white wine. I settle back onto my stool at the bar and ask the time. 6.37 he says, shaking his head with a smile. So what am I going to do now he enquirers. I shrug and mention the private birthday party on the balcony I have been invited to but am unsure since I am defiantly the best dressed out of that lot and I wouldn't want to upset the birthday girl. He asks if I would like another drink, and as I slurp up the dredges of the last of my cocktail, Husband approaches the bar and asks for another glass of wine (despite the fact he hadn't finished his first, and this was noted by the bar men). I begin to gather my belongings when Husband asks "Can I get you a drink?" I pause, look him up and down and then smile. "Well, I'm drinking cocktails." He smiles back. "I can afford it".
Husband was handed his glass of wine and said "And what ever this lady's having", the look My Bar Man gave Husband was priceless, and then he looked to me quizzically, as if to say "really? This guy?" I, always smiling, ordered again, something sweet with a kick and lets go for Raspberry this time. He got to work and so did I, turning to Husband I asked "You're not David are you?" No, he said. Was I waiting for David? I giving him my most coy look replied "Not anymore". He inquired who David was and I explained one more time, the story of my failed blind date. Husband was surprised a girl like me would need to be set up on a blind date, this was my opening to explain what I do for a living "Well I work with crazy people, so my perception of what is normal is slightly skewed, and also if anyone knew I'd said that I would totally be fired". So what do you do then? Asked Husband.
This led into the proverbial first date conversation, What do you do? Where do you come from? How rich are you? and Oh BTW what's your name?
I of course explained I was a (sexy) student at UCL (props to Heavenly Housewife for planting this baby in my head) just having finished my first year studying for my doctorate in Psychology I was working as a Trainee Psychologist at a PCT in London. I got into Psychology because when I was 17 a Boyfriend told me I should try it and then after breaking up with him, took his advice and moved to the UK to continue my education. I choose the UK for the fact that Psychology works very differently there (due to the NHS) and also you don't pay for school fee's so it was like a free ride (fact). Husband of course asked if I was going to psycho-analyse him to which I declared "I've already done it, we'll be sharing a bed tonight". But before all that, maybe I should learn a little more about this mysterious man.
Husband was a designer. "like clothes?" I asked. No, he was a consultant that ergonomically designed office space. He owned his own company, and was from a wealthy background. He.Was.Loaded. And my god did he ever play it up. "holiday homes" everywhere, parents desperate to marry him off, but he was quite happy being a bachelor and spending his money the way he wanted too. We talked for a while, about family, what our likes and dislikes were, we joked, we flirted, I did the occasional touch of his bicep or pretended to pick lint off his jacket. We worked it and we both worked it well, making sure to occasionally involve the bar staff to keep the illusion going. It was fun, and it almost felt real. I loved it.
There was of course, more than two cocktails had, but they were strong cocktails, you know? So after the 2nd one I forgot my camera by the wayside and continued to knock them back. Not long after, I declared to Husband that I would have to leave because I needed to go home and get myself some dinner before I really did get drunk, "but first I must excuse myself to the bathroom" I said "and please feel free to watch me walk away". So I sauntered off, working the hips momma gave me to my best ability.
When I returned Husband asked if I would like to go to dinner with him, the restaurant attached to the hotel he was staying at did to die for Pizza, apparently. I hesitated (to play the game) and suddenly the bar man was at my side, encouraging me to go. He was a decent guy, have a nice dinner out, best to put my beautiful dress to use. Ah, so you two have had words? I thought. I of course, agreed to dinner, And so, with a quick but firm squeeze of Husband's thigh I told him to lead the way.
We hopped on the tube and began the journey to the hotel. This is when the act started to diminish. With an audience it was exciting, fun and cheeky. With just the two of us it seemed silly to continue with the role play. By this time, that was quite fine with me, because although I seriously enjoyed our "first date" all over again, it made me realize just how much I love my life. And I do. I wouldn't change any part of it for the world.
But first, Husband and I must share our "first kiss" and, funnily, it was like that. I felt just as nervous and excited by this kiss as if I was kissing someone I liked for the first time, but of course, this was someone I loved. He's an excellent kisser anyways and I was already hot for him, so this might have helped with the magic.
We went to Fratelli in Maida Vale (which is a part of the Marriott we were staying at) and they DID do the most amazing pizza. Oh why didn't I take a picture? It was beautiful and exactly what I wanted after a night full of cocktails and sexual tension.
Husband declared ever so romantically over dinner that he felt he had to be honest with me and was planning on taking me up to bed after our meal to have his dirty way with me. I, with a mouth full of pizza, said that this would be fine with me.
And so the date ended. Well obviously it didn't end there, it ended 2-3 hours AFTER that, but you don't want all those details, surely.
All in all, If you are one capable of role play and so is your partner I would recommend this idea for some fun. As I said though, the magic was lost when we no longer had the audience and I seriously think it worked well because we had both set the scene so well, pulling in people from the bar so that they were part of it. Husband and I are both generally very social people, neither of us have any shyness whatsoever and are very good at "making friends", so this was easy for us.
So, yes, Brill! And also kind of nice like "warm inside" nice because it made me realize just how much I really do love my life. Not that I doubted it, but it made me wish I owned a T-shirt that said something like "I'm a wife and mother and PROUD" with small print on the back "even if I don't get out as much" because I would wear it.
The picture above by the way might be me. It might also be an unfortunate picture of a woman who was wearing the same dress that I was and happened to be sitting in the same tube carriage. You decide.
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