‘I can’t really think of a gentlemanly way to put it, but yes, I suppose so. Often it’s the fame, or the title, that people are after, not me.’
Normally I spend a first date sharing the absolute basics with a guy before we move on to what boxsets we’re both watching / funniest examples of drunken behaviour / a round-up of our worst Tinder experiences. Al has cut straight to the chase and I really like how it has instantly built a connection between us.
‘It’s funny, you talking about types,’ I say. ‘My best friend recently told me, in no uncertain terms, that my type of guy sucks. She thinks it’s a better idea to get out there and meet different people, rather than stick to one type.’
‘She sounds like a sensible woman. Am I your usual type?’
‘Oh sure. I only ever date exceptionally handsome, olive-grove owning royalty,’ I grin. ‘I bet you only date dusty, slightly shambolic photographers too, right?’
He fixes me with the longest look and even my fingertips start to tingle.
‘You know, I can’t think of any of my ex-girlfriends would have been satisfied with a date like this. . .’
‘Areyou kidding me? This place is so romantic.’ I motion to the piece of bread I’m currently dipping in some deliciously tangy olive oil. ‘It’s so good, by the way,’ I add with my mouth full.Mouth fullindeed. Just call me an Italian princess in the making
‘I’m thrilled you like it,’ his eyes are looking at me, not the bread, when he talks. I keep his gaze for as long as I can, looking into those beautiful green eyes and thinking back to my old type on paper. Green eyes a bonus! Al ticks a lot of my original boxes. Dark. Handsome. Green eyes. Sharp dresser. The difference is that he’s a) quite a bit shorter than my old criteria and b) a complete and utter gent. I’m beginning to realise how ridiculously shallow my type was, after all. I’d have missed out on all of this because of one tiny thing? That’s starting to sound pretty stupid. Alessandro is so sweet and SO hot. I try not to lick my lips as he tucks a non-existent stray hair behind his left ear.
‘I think you look like a beautiful English rose,’ he adds.
Full disclosure, I am blushing. Al has leaned across the table and is swirling a strand of my former topknot around his index finger. It is sexy as hell. I’m not too sure what to do with myself in this situation, so I just continue chewing the regrettably huge chunk of bread I popped in my mouth a couple of seconds ago. It had been so yummy but now I just feel like I’ve been chewing for hours while Al fixes me with the hottest stare you ever did see.
Hurry up and swallow, woman!
Mission finally accomplished, I take a sip of water and return my date’s gaze.
‘I like you Jasmine.’
‘I, um, oh! Thanks ever so!’
Gawd.
Thankfully Alessandro has the good breading to ignore my ridiculous waffling, his beautiful face inching closer and closer to mine until our lips meet.
MILA!Back from my date. It was SEXY! And he was a true gentleman, insisting that I went out to take some photos before we ate bread and olive oil in the sunshine. Date number three with Alessandro Al Fresco and I AM DECEASED. New type on paper score: 5/7
