
So, some of you may know I went on a date last night. A normal one.
A mutual friend of ours introduced us, and after a conversation on the phone, we decided to meet for dinner at a restaurant just outside the city. I won't detail what happened on the date, 'cause you know, I'm not that kind of guy, but I will say that I really enjoyed his company. It dawned on me during one of the few moments of contented silence which peppered the evening how this sort of thing happens everyday. Meeting someone new, sharing a meal, a glass of wine and just talking to a real person.
I realise now that this is what I've been missing: your old common, garden-variety kind of normality. The kind of honest, unassuming kind of meeting devoid of pretense that says, "This is who I am. I'm not perfect, but I like who I am, and I hope you'll take the chance to get to know me. Perhaps, you'll like me, too."
Happily ever after?
I can understand why people would want something more than 'normal' though. We all want to be the exception, the hero of the fairy-tale or the object of the romantic lead's affection in the big screen adaptation of your life. Bridget Jones, basically.
Yes, admit it: there's a little part of you that wishes, "If only that could happen to me." After all, who wouldn't want to be able to tell their grandchildren the charming story of how they met. How magical it was. How it was love at first sight. Kismet. How unnaturally fortunate they were.
For all that these stories appear to promise, they tell very little of the life that follows. 'Happily ever after', as these stories would tidily end. After the orchestral music fades and the credits have rolled, we are left to wonder if indeed whether this kind of happiness is guaranteed.

Where to from here?
I'm not sure to be perfectly honest. A second date is in the cards. There's plenty of ground to cover, but he and I are going into this with eyes open. No promises, no expectations.
Day 9.
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