I was asked out on a date last night, and while I’m sure this is no big news to you sexy singletons out there, it was huge for me. I’ve been with the same guy for nearly 4 years now, so it’s safe to say my dating scene has been limited (to one great man). Everyone new that I have met in the past 3 or so years hasn’t met me as Lauren, but as Lauren plus 1, Lauren and her French man, LaurenandStephane.
I didn’t even catch his name, but he was a Norwegian man nearly as wide as he was tall who had come down to the pub to cheer England on at beating the Swedes. After briefly being introduced, him trying to repeatedly catch my eye across the crowded pub and then unsuccessfully trying to buy me a drink, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found myself sitting with my partner on my right and a Nordic stranger on my left asking me if I was free tomorrow night. It just never occurred to me that he wouldn’t know that I was with Stephane. He generously accepted the fact that I was taken, told me I was with the wrong man, but hoped he treated me well.
God it felt good.