Dating Disasters: ‘We danced around each other like magnets all night, it was fireworks everywhere’

In Dating Disasters, anonymous readers share their most embarrassing, cringeworthy, and dramatic dates. This week: part two of the prince in the white airplane.

How is it possible that it always goes like this? At the moment you almost stop thinking about someone, they show up again. It's as if all men are born with a radar that tells them exactly when it's time to strike. If that's not the case, then I find this awkward form of intuition really impressive.

Not that I minded, far from it. He apologized for the fact that it had taken so long and immediately got to the point: he wanted to make plans. I love a man with a plan, so I was obviously charmed right away, but it also made me nervous. I remember holding off for a while before that date actually took place.

On the day of our first date, I was running around my house like a headless chicken. Not that this is anything new for me, but I was extremely nervous. I texted my friend in a panic: ‘What if it's not fun? What if he's not handsome? What if I want him to leave and I don't dare to say it? HELP!’ Those nerves turned out to be unfounded. The moment he walked up the stairs, I remembered why I had been so tongue-tied on that airplane: he was incredibly handsome. And fun. And I didn't want him to leave at all, quite the opposite. The evening was incredibly enjoyable. We drank a bit, ate a bit, chatted non-stop, and shared an amazing kiss after I (don't ask me why) was reading our horoscope and he asked if it mentioned anything about a kiss on the couch. Where my legs had initially felt a bit wobbly, they now felt completely numb. How could I be sold so quickly? I sternly told myself to act normal for a moment.

We also decided (read: I decided) to take it easy and agreed to see each other again in about two weeks. After all, we had all the time in the world, right? And no one has ever become a worse person from a little delayed gratification. On the agreed date, I drove with butterflies in my stomach to his place. It had been a long time since I had genuinely liked someone, and even though I would never have admitted it at that moment; I really liked him a lot.

That the rainy summer day literally put our plans in the water didn't dampen the fun. We walked through the city, kissed in the rain, and cooked (between intense kissing sessions on his countertop) a meal that I had zero interest in since I could only look at those blue eyes. We danced all evening like two magnets around each other, and the sparks were flying. I was shocked, but I also loved it. However, I decided to go home that evening, no matter how much I wanted to stay. I would probably have handled it differently now, but I needed to let things settle for a moment and once again: we had all the time in the world.

Then came that one thing you are always a bit afraid of when you like someone: it got quieter on the other side, and eventually, he wanted to come over to talk. Well, you know how that goes. What was supposed to be a conversation about the fact that the timing wasn't quite right turned (against better judgment) into an evening, night, and morning of pure attraction. Those damn magnets.

Groggy from lack of sleep, we found ourselves at the breakfast table the next morning. What were we supposed to do with this? In the end, I decided to take the plunge: I didn't want to continue with someone who was still so uncertain, even if it felt so good. Especially because it felt so good. With him, it had to either get a real chance or just not happen. This was not a ‘annoying firecrackers from your neighbor's kid on December 30’ situation, no, this was an ‘Independence Day, New Year's Eve, and the end of a festival with a way too big budget’ scenario. Fireworks everywhere.

Although I am curious, I have no idea how he is doing now. We flew, just like at our meeting, in completely different directions and simply kept flying. Oh well, it is what it is, and have you really had a true love life without the one that got away? As our friend Carrie B would say: some romance stories aren’t epic novels, some are just short stories. And that's just how it is.

Would you like to share your Dating Disasters with us too? Nice! Send an email to info@amayzine.com and you might read your story here soon.