Possibly the greatest first date of all time.

At least I actually wore shoes.

Last week, I got a message on Tastebuds. This isn't a rare event, I get them a lot. This one however, was normal. No weird quips, gags or strange questions. Just a hello, how are you, fancy going for a coffee? Also, the guy was hot. And I mean, I actually sat up in my chair and said 'Well hello!' out loud, hot. This, does not normally happen.

I replied straight away. Of course. We had a few back and forth messages over the space of a couple of hours, seemed to have a lot of things in common, swapped numbers, and arranged a date. For the following Thursday. So far... so ridiculously, incredibly easy. Did I mention he was hot? He was hot. I couldn't actually believe my luck. We shall call him Ben. He suggested a German bar near London Bridge, unless I fancied something else. No, I love the Germans, let's do that. Perfect; he had suggested a place thus taking control, but also left it open in case I protested. Tick.

Thursday came. It was pouring it down. I was wearing stupid brogues with a lace panel in them (like so) so I had wet feet by the time it came to the date. (I didn't reveal I had damp feet throughout the date. I've learned this is not acceptable first date talk.) We met at London Bridge station, and when I finally spotted him over the mass of umbrellas, he was giving a foreign couple detailed instructions on how to use the Jubilee line. Waiting patiently to say hello, my first thought was not 'Hurry up it's raining', it was 'Oh look at him being all polite and helpful, that's so lovely, <3 <3' and other teenage thoughts. Seriously.

Said foreign couple scampered off and we said hello. Did I tell you he was hot? Hot IRL too. Even avec umbrella. We walked down Borough High St and came to the destination, which I'd never even heard of - but it was great. A barely-noticeable door leads down into what is essentially an underground, bright, jolly, German themed pub. Wooden benches, german beer, barmen in lederhosen, the lot. I have no idea what it's called though, I was too busy staring at Ben's wonderful face talking animatedly about bands we both like. Turns out pretty much every festival I've been to, he was there. We like all the same music. Talked about work, annoying housemates, snowboarding, cancer (note to self, stop talking about cancer on first dates, FFS), films, Uni, the woes of not being at Uni anymore, many other things. He bought the drinks, we drank them, before I knew it, it was 9.30. Literally been chatting for hours and didn't even realise. He suggested moving on to somewhere else, so we did. I did not want to go home, whatsoever. Also, side note, why do people suggest moving on? It's not a pubcrawl. I have no problem with it, I was just cosy, and frankly didn't want to go out in the rain. Interesting.

We went on to some sort of chain pub down the road, had another drink (I bought this one, only fair) and carried on. Genuinely did not feel like a first date, we had so much to talk about. I remember somehow getting on to the subject of best ever Playstation games and talking about FF7 for a while. He seemed staggered I could converse on such geeky topics. If only he knew. Amazing. Threw in a bit of Metal Gear Solid for luck too. (Both equal, best ever Playstation games in my opinion.)

Basically, the date could not have gone better, given my past luck in first dates through Tastebuds. He walked me back to the station, and there was kissing. Oh yes. And this time, not strange, first date awkward kissing, but a proper, decent, I think I just died a bit inside kiss. Not too intense, but there was effort there. Essentially a very good first kiss. I was a bit giddy. This could also be due to the fact that I was indecently drunk - 3 large glasses of red wine on no dinner. He gets a slight minus point for getting me drunk. Actually, no, he doesn't.

We parted and I half sauntered/stumbled/glided on to my train, no doubt with the most sly, drunkard grin on my face. Best. Date. Evah.

The issue next, of course, was if/when to text, and if there was to be a second date. There MUST be. There's no way he could not have also felt we really clicked. I text him the very next day (Dangerous! But it had to be done) and said I had a lovely time, etc, let's do it again. And he replied. And agreed. Said we 'gelled'. Yes. Yes we did hot man.

I left it over the weekend, then realised on monday that the only free night I had for 8 solid days (blame Christmas party season, and unfortunately a funeral) was the very next day. Do I text again requesting a drink that soon?! I didn't want to let it slide. So I did.

And he bloody didn't reply for about 12 hours. MASSIVE PARANOIA.

Turns out he left his phone at home. Gah. But he couldn't do that night anyway, so we've rearranged, for exactly a fortnight since the first date. I shall inform in due course. I'm feeling good about this one (can you tell?) and super worried I will somehow balls it up. We shall see. Argh.