How to fall in love with an English man – part 1

It is my great pleasure to introduce you to Mr. Charismatic!  Like Yankeebean, I had one of those pivotal moments…  I’m not really one for destiny or “one true love” but I do believe in fireworks and boy did they make an impression the night I met Mr. Charismatic. 

I had been at a Mexican restaurant in my hometown with a load of my sorority sisters.  One of them was leaving for a year in Spain and she announced we’d head to the nearest nightclub.  But I had to work the next day so I said I’d have to go home because I didn’t want to pay the expensive cover charge just to stay a few minutes.  So… she changed her mind and said we’d go to the quieter bar across the street.  I am horrified now that I was so selfish that night, and I treat my lady friends a lot better these days but I can’t really regret it because it started the chain of events that landed me in Yorkshire.

So we entered the cheaper, quieter bar and boom!  He was standing in my direct line of sight wearing a white polo with the collar turned up (which was a curiosity as American men hadn’t started this trend yet) and as he caught my eye he turned to the side and took a drink of his lager.  This image is carved in my memory as one of the major pivotal moments of my life.

Mr. Charismatic tried his charm on each and every one of my friends before he finally spoke to me.  It was obvious I wanted him to talk to me by the glances I was giving but trying so hard NOT to be obvious,  and he took his sweet time.  Then he swooped in putting his arm around me and this was his opener: “I’m going to guess what you are studying.”  He never did get it right, but he spent a long time guessing and by the time the entire group of us ladies (with group of British men in tow) left for the expensive night club (and I totally paid that cover charge that I refused so selfishly just hours earlier) we were holding hands and sneaking a little snog.  Later he admitted one of the main reasons he liked me: I didn’t gush about his accent.  I also later found out he has a thing for blondies.

When the night was coming to an end, I was devastated when he asked for my email address.  Didn’t he want my phone number???  He explaned that he was visiting America as a soccer coach, that he stayed with a different American family every week and that he didn’t like to use their phones to make personal calls.   Upon asking where he was staying this week I found out he was just a mile away from where I lived.  So, being sober, I offered him a ride home.  This is when the LWBB (Lost Wallet Brit Boy) incident happened.  Stay tuned…

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