Part 2 – Tempest Fugit – One Step At A Time!

Tempest Fugit .. well it does if you waste it or don’t pay attention.

Sometimes not paying attention is exactly what you want to do.

I confess, I’m a professional .. allegedly .. but I hate work,
particularly boring meetings where everyone else wants to get their tuppence worth in and I know the solution, but I don’t really give a sh1t.

So I gaze out the window, trying not to get caught staring into the distance and half listening in case someone actually asks me a question. This is so far below me .. but I don’t care .. knowledge is power and I’m only here for the money.

What was I saying?

Yeah .. Tempest Fugit .. Well it does when your having fun.

And since we met, boy have we been having fun .. that first date in Champagne Central was only the start of things. A mere taste, a morsel of what was to come.

I haven’t danced so much, laughed so much or lets be honest snogged so much in such a long long time.

The price you pay for being in a loveless relationship is that it kills you from the inside out .. first you feel it inside, the passion leaving, but you care, you hope that it will come back, but it eats away at you, it causes a burning resentment but still you care so you go along with it .. it’s not all about you .. there are other people to be considered.

So you keep up the external charade .. cos its the right thing to do .. but you can’t, because your kidding yourself .. and in the end you’re fooling nobody.

But I digress.

So back to the fun, that second date .. meeting in Central Station again, more casual this time,

Jeans and a sparkly top.

Her not me!!

You kidding? 🙂

It was Thursday again, so Talk and Tapas ,, was the first date an illusion .. had we deluded ourselves in that hazy c0cktail mist?

So we talked, plans for a possible future of the next few weeks, nothing major, nothing serious, we’d both had enough serious and talked about that already in our pre-meeting emails.

Should I tell you her name? Does it matter?

Not really. So I won’t.

Patatas Bravas and Prosecco .. is that a mixed metaphor .. Spanish and Italian?   .. I dunno .. Languages were never my strong point.

Just looking at her makes me throb somewhere inside, a deep bass note hitting me hard in the chest.

She’s vulnerable, been hurt, through the mill, Much more than me. I just had a bitter divorce and was financially raped .. but its only money. The root of all evil .. and no-one can buy your soul .. I appease myself.

But there’s a tear there now, this is really personal for her. she’s telling me much more than I expected to hear.

On the other few dates I’d had, this would have been too much information, but somehow it only makes me want to comfort her, protect her. Wrap my arms around her and make it all go away. At one point there was a small shine in her eyes and I knew she was trying hard to blink it away.

Life really is hard sometimes.

But we’d agreed, we both wanted to look to the future, so we’ll start small, a few dates, agreed on exclusivity, no compartmentalisation have to make an effort to make it work .. to show some commitment.

That was 3 weeks ago, since then we’ve danced and we’ve laughed, been to a few gigs, even managed a hillwalk .. a pointy top mountain at the rear end of the Trossachs .. she looked at it from the Dukes Pass and said .. I’ll never make it up there.

But she did and she will.

One step at a time.


PS – This is only a story, not an actual dating experience.

Read Part 1 Here

Part 1 – If Peroni Did Mills And Boon!

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