Maybe it was the fact that it was so spontaneous, or maybe it was the fact that the Eiffel tower was unsurprisingly the perfect setting for a night picnic, either way, it was the perfect date.
Not even half an hour after I called he was outside my apartment with a beautifully wrapped basket filled with wine, cheese, and crackers. It was too much. I wondered how he’d managed to pull it off in such a short notice. I pictured his apartment stacked with perfectly wrapped picnic baskets all set for impromptu dates with girls he’d handed his card out to in the street.
“What’s all this?” I asked. “I thought you said we were going to a wine bar.”
“I did not say bar, I said a perfect place for wine. Beautiful dress.” Evidently, shyness was not one of his weaknesses.
“Thank you”, I smiled. At this point the romantic in me was fighting with the cynic, trying to decide whether this was the sleekest guy I had ever met or the sweetest. “So, where are we going?”
“It is a surprise”, he said.
The surprise did not last for long since, as soon as we took metro line number 9, I knew where we were going.
A cheese and wine picnic by the Eiffel Tower. I could feel my heart beating really fast. It was too much, too much romance.
The rest of the night was kind of a blur. I remember the sparkly lights of the Eiffel Tower, the tasty smoked chilli cheese, the deliciously fruity white wine, and us talking, talking for hours about everything, about our families, about our friends, about how we’d gotten to be there, and about where we wanted to go. The more I got to know him the more I realised I had misjudged him. He was slightly arrogant but in an innocent, child-like manner. He knew that as far as the dating game goes he had just scored 1000 points easy. And it was obvious that he was pleased with himself.
“You know you’re killing it, right?” I said at some point, not being able to contain myself.
“Killing it?” he asked confused.
“All of this, the wine, the cheese, the Eiffel Tower, it’s straight out of the romance playbook. I can’t help but say it, well done.” He smiled sheepishly. For the first time this night, he seemed slightly embarrassed.
“Only slightly. You see, because of the light pollution, I can’t see the stars. If I were able to see the stars too, well that would be over the top.” It took him some time to realise I was messing with him. His puzzled look gave way to an approving smile. Whether it was the joke he approved of, or me or his choice to go out with me, I couldn’t know. Either way, it was match point.
When I got home it was 3 am. I didn’t get much sleep that night. I was too overwhelmed by everything that had gone on.
I remained in that daze-like state for the next few days only to slowly sober up as the days went by without any news from him. So when the girls asked me over lunch if there was anyone special in my life, I figured that the appropriate response was no. I figured that after seven days it was a safe assumption to say that he would not be playing any bigger part in my life than ‘that guy who took me on that super romantic date that one time’. What I didn’t realise at the time was that I had changed my SIM card the very next day following our date. It was only a few days later when I switched back to my Greek SIM to listen to my voicemail that I saw that I had three messages and two missed calls, all of which were by him. I was an idiot. I called him immediately to tell him that.
By Elena S.