First Date Feelings

Had his watch stopped? It had only moved thirty seconds since the last time he had looked, but the intervening gap felt like thirty minutes. He was certain that the meeting had been agreed for seven o'clock and just to be sure, had arrived ten minutes early.

The agreed rendezvous was outside that well known eatery, the Villa Italia. It had been a nightmare to park close by yet somehow, he had found a spot immediately opposite the restaurant. Before leaving the house, he had neatly trimmed his beard and re-combed his hair and of course, his shoes were shinning. He was dressed casually in dark shirt and trousers, but softened the effect with a light tan jacket. This was his first meeting with the lady and, needless to say, he was shaking like the proverbial leaf! They had communicated via the Internet for over six weeks and he had spoken with her by phone on several occasions. But this was the first, real live meeting and as everyone knows, first impressions are always what count.

He looked at his watch once more but the second hand had only completed a further half revolution. In fairness to her, she had warned him that she was a terrible time-keeper, but an internal, cold-chill feeling was beginning to grab him. What would he do if she didn't turn up? He was well aware that he was not the greatest "catch" on earth, and it had been so many years since his divorce that he had actually 'gone out' with someone, he was totally out of practise. He was as nervous as a spotty teenager on his first date.

Would he even recognise her? He had only ever seen one small and not very clear photograph but she had described what she would be wearing that evening. To make matters worse, it was now starting to rain ever so lightly and on inspecting his watch again, determined the second hand had at last completed the revolution; twelve minutes past seven.

Once more, he looked anxiously down the road. A dark-haired, relatively small, yet full bodied woman was standing by the traffic lights, waiting to cross. She was wearing a black and white striped dress, covered with a black, velvet jacket and matching shoes. Her handbag was also black and white. He racked his brain to recall exactly what she said she was going to wear - black and white dress! "This must be her" he muttered as she started to cross the road towards him. She was coming closer and he could see her facial features more clearly now. Again, he endeavoured to recall the one photograph he had seen of her. "This MUST be her" he mumbled as he started to quake in anticipation. His heart was beating overtime as she came even closer. She looked just as he had imagined when he had spoken with her on the phone and, he had already become extremely attracted to the owner of the voice.