Pear Shaped

It shouldn't be possible for someone to simultaneously delight you with armfuls of red tulips and tell you you've got a fat arse. It shouldn't be, but it is. My mother is the most thoughtful, loving, kind woman I know but she tells it like it is. To be fair it was my own fault for asking her what she thought of my new jeans, I should have expected nothing but honesty. I tried not to sulk but they're high-waisted flares for crying out loud! They're THE jean of Spring/Summer 07 and I've discovered I can't wear them because I'm a 'classic English pear shape' (kill me now). I am delightfully less of a pear than I used to be but frankly I could starve myself until my ribs were visible and I'd still look like I was wearing jodphurs (thank you India Knight for that fabulous analogy). Anyway, they're going back at lunchtime today and I shall be unstylish for the whole of 2007. Humph.

So that was Saturday. On Sunday the heavens opened over London Town and it persistently rained all day. Not the weather most conducive to a first date, given my hair's tendency to 'fro-up whenever it's slightly moist out. However, I'd already postponed this once and I didn't want O to think I was frivolously into my hair (obviously I am; I'm a girl but you don't draw attention to it immediately).

We met at Leicester Square (why is it always LS?!) and immediately I clocked how short he was. Not midget short but probably my height. Just. This usually spells death to any attraction on my part but O had the good fortune to be extremely good looking. I immediately decided to ignore the height thing (and the fact that he was quite slight...again as discussed above I'm not exactly Kylie Minogue). We hurried through the rain to All Bar One in the midst of them setting up for the Becoming Jane premier and settled down with some drinks. He's a fascinating guy and very funny. In fact most of our conversation was taken up with talking utter nonsense which immediately puts me at my ease. Also I found out he'd written a book! Unpublished at the moment but he has a finished manuscript and everything so I was very impressed (and also a little envious).

We left ABO before the premier started - I would have preferred to stay and ogle Anne Hathaway, Maggie Smith et al but decided not to whine about it (it really is all about tactics on the first date). The next bar was the unashamedly brash Waxy O'Connor's and we drank Guiness as an homage to the Irishness seeping out of the very woodwork. We couldn't find a seat but managed to find somewhere to lean and stood next to each other, looking over a balcony and commenting on the patrons below. It was an intimate way to stand; whenever we looked at each other our faces were very close and there was a lot of lip-watching going on. We called it a night around 9pm and he walked me as far as Leicester Square. He told me he'd like to see me again and then we both stood there faffing about and making stupid comments long beyond the point where one or other of us should have walked away. This is a sure sign you both want to kiss...so we did. It was very good but I did feel slightly ridiculous kissing someone whose mouth was exactly the same height as mine. It made me feel large which I don't like. I haven't heard from him since but that's OK. If he asked me out again, I'd go, just to see, but if he doesn't then I will consider him a palette cleanser after the S debaclé. A sexual sorbet if you will. I am talking to a few other possibilities on the website and a couple in particular have caught my eye. Not least of all because they're in the 6ft 1" - 6ft 4" bracket.

9 days smoke free...