The Frenchman

I've always wanted to meet someone on a plane. Sounds like it would make a good story.
Instead you always end up sitting next to the smelly snorers... And I've done a plenty of travel for work in my time.

On one of my many trips back from Melbourne, I will outright admit, I was patiently yet subtly checking out the oncoming passengers, hoping for my luck to change. And along comes my usual candidate of neighbour. Large, loud businessman. As he steps into the seat, his colleague steps out from behind him, and it's my lucky day...

Not only is he French, and gorgeous, but I already have this guys number... literally.
He's one of the charmers from my Salsa class. So my neighbour kindly offers to trade seats, and it was the quickest flight back from Melbourne ever!

So we did a date. Coogee. Coffee. Pizza. It was easy, nice. We talked, held hands. Cute really.
I dropped him home and we agreed to do it again.

Second date, he cooked me dinner at his place - I cringe just remembering. Gorgeous little apartment in Pyrmont. Mood music, fresh fish from the markets, candles... He even remembered my favourite bottle of wine mentioned on date one!

Arrived at 7:30, and he serves 'nibbles'. Starts talking about cooking at 9pm. Starts cooking at 9:30. Serves dinner at 10:15. Then he starts talking about dessert somewhere around 11pm...
Strawberries, cream, cheeses, biscuits, more wine at 11PM! And light hearted conversation to go along with it, plans of the future, re-marrying, more children.

Exit stage left!