The First Date

Updated: Aug 16, 2021

I was sat with my Mum and anice cold glass of white wine (two of the best things possible to be sat with), when a whatsapp appeared on my phone from a none UK number. Anyone who knows me will tell you, this small detail alone is a good indication the unknown number could be a love interest of some description!

Alex didn't bother to introduce himself, (nor would you if you were French Alex the leopard print wearing lunatic of Barcelona), and so for the first two days I was convinced he was someone I knew from the clubs of London or NY. He kept telling me he was at the gym to make sure I was fully aware that although he was vintage he still had a six pack, and he was quite jovial for a French so he started to grow on me!

For my part I spent the first few weeks letting him know I was in meetings so he was mindful that I was a woman of means (or something like that). A woman who would absolutely not be lured in by bags and cocktails, which isn't strictly true because bags and cocktails are life, but I wanted taking seriously.

We were both jetting around Europe for the first few months and never seemed to both be in the same place at the same time until one fateful morning when my flight landed in Barcelona 3 hours before his departed.

Can you think of a more anxiety inducing first date than an 8am airport encounter? Let's start with the fact it's 8am and I'd flown in from Ibiza meaning 6:30am at the airport meaning, an all nighter. There is some pressure to look exceptional on dates even when they are in the day and you can feasibly wear sunglasses for the entire duration without looking like too much of a douchebag. There's also the concern that even if you were up to it, drinking at 8am may not make the best impression the first time you meet someone.

I got dressed drunk and went for what can only be described as an extravaganza of a floor length black dress (kind of gown), studded trainers and loads of other expensive black clothes and bags. It crossed my mind that the look was potentially more "don't approach me" than "nice to meet you", but in any case I didn't want a husband who couldn't handle me and my wardrobe too.

I sat nonchalantly replying to emails (in fact I was furiously texting my friend, Claire minute by minute updates), looking calm, important and very fabulous while I waited.

I spotted the most beautiful, immaculately dressed man (in sunglasses) sauntering through the airport and I could have punched the air (if I was the type of person to rock that type of celebration) when he came over to me and said " Samanta?".

We hadn't made it to the terminal door before an old lady came over to us and said we were the most beautiful couple, I'm still unsure if Alex had paid for this to happen, but we'll give him the benefit of the doubt because we did look sensational.

We spent two hours together drinking coffee after coffee before my flight and it felt like I had always known him.

He told me he was into nudist beaches. Unfortunately for Alex who actually went to a nudist beach once and hated it (also didn't get naked) and had said this just to see what my reaction would be, I said it wasn't really my thing but equally the thought of it didn't worry me so I'd be up for giving it a go. We all lie a bit on first dates don't we? I told him that a partying lifestyle just wasn't for me and I couldn't be with someone who was too wild. This was a barefaced lie I had literally walked out of a rave and onto the date, but I wanted to weed out the type of creatures who couldn't hold down a job due to rockstar antics.

I got through security and immediately called Claire to let her know I had found my husband. Meanwhile Alex arrived in Ibiza and text me every 30 mins about every aspect of his day, including a brief spell in a nightclub where the kind of prostitutes who take credit cards go to pick up clients. I briefly wondered why he would be frequenting such a place.But on knowing him better realised that for a man who walks around in tens of thousands of pounds worth of threads every day, he's far too cheap when it comes to this kind of thing to have paid for this type of service. Before he met me he hadn't taken a girl on a date, or even for a drink in a year because it was " a waste of money". How charming.

Our real first date (the one I count as the real deal because it was 1. at night and 2. had wine) was three weeks later in Ibiza. You'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out about that.

Happy Saturday!

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