Clearly, I was working myself up to a stupid froth. It didn't help that he texted around 2 pm to say he couldn't meet me at the Museum as we'd originally planned since he had to work till 6, could we have drinks at 8 instead? Uh oh, what next, a cancellation? I gulped but gamely texted back that "great, I'll have time for a manicure" then told him where to go. Mainly, I tried not to think about it. And when I did, I assumed I'd be there at 8pm and back by 10. Easy, peasy, no reason to be queasy.
As if going into battle, I don my red patent stilettos (yep, the ones right there) and the Sex Dress. Contrary to its name, the Sex Dress is a subtle black silk affair fashioned like a man's dress shirt to be worn simply with a single belt either on the waist or hips. Yet somehow even while being rather opaque with zero cleavage exposure, it has a 95% success rate and only once failed when I wore it around B, who at the time disapprovingly grimaced while trotting me around like a recalcitrant child in a rather possessive grip. It had the effect of inspiring Bionic Staring which as one of the ex-suitors informed me, was really a stab at having it telekinetically fly off me.
This was the first date I'd been on fresh from Virginlandia and B, the Libra hence the nervousness. Somewhere in that trajectory of events, I'd developed a serious skittishness. I glance every other way but straight, clutching my coat and feeling vulnerable. I look up to see him purposefully stride across half the parking lot to get to me in nanoseconds, "You ok?," he asks, placing his hand on my back protectively to usher me forth. I say yes, and squint a little as he opens the door for me. The swing of the door rushes air to our faces.
“I am Dragan.” he announces in time to its whoosh. Well, indeed you are, I think.
“I was here few minutes but bar was full, so I wait for you.” The hostess greets us and I smile a little awkwardly under the now brighter lights of the restaurant. There is a seat nearer the door which I start cautiously gravitating to as she points it out, only to hear him tell her rather firmly, “No, we don’t take this, other seat inside is better.” She instantly acquiesces as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Maybe is because you near me you hot?" he teases, eyes sparkling. I laugh. Then I ask him, "Sorry, did you say on your profile you're 26?"
"Da, I turn 26, three weeks ago," he smiles. "On April 3rd".
I blink at him. Oh FUQ. A Serbian and an Aries.
I hear the sirens of Virginlandia wail alarmingly in the faint distance as its government declares a State of Emergency. "Today the Great State of Virginlandia must ready itself as subject to Imminent Attack, we shall protect our borders as well as we can, with what resources we have, with our virtue and our might but we must in grace, reconcile ourselves to the possibility of surrender. May the Goddess help us all and deliver us to our plight with mercy."