‘Of course you must meet @_Roxster, as long as it’s in a public space. Talitha says he’s fine. We’ll all be on the end of the phone. And it’s perfectly normal and healthy to meet in cyberspace.’
Love the way Tom and I swap positions at being the expert on dating mores as if on a seesaw – even though clearly neither of us has any idea what we are talking about in the first place. Sometimes it seems like just a sea of humanity out there with millions of seesaws all going on at the same time like nodding-donkeys. And everyone’s on one end or other of the seesaw at different times.
11 p.m. Heaven is rewarding me today. Roxster just tweeted again.
<@_Roxster @JoneseyBJ It’s freezing out there, Jonesey. Shall we make it the bar at the Dean Street Townhouse instead?>
Aww. He’s been thinking about it. He’s so gorgeous and nice. Tweeted back:
<@JoneseyBJ @_Roxster Perfect. See you there.>
<@_Roxster @JoneseyBJ Can’t wait, baby.>
Tuesday 22 January 2013
133lb (still!), number of outfits tried on and thrown on floor 12, tweets sent when supposed to be getting ready 7 (very stupid), though Twitter followers 698 (advantages of live-action tweeting must be weighed against disadvantages of lateness).
6.30 p.m. Right. Almost ready. Talitha, Jude and Tom are primed about where I am going and standing by to rescue me in case anything goes wrong. Determined not to make same mistake this time and be late. Only thing is, cannot help self from tweeting as I get ready. Is almost as if I have duty to all followers to let them know what I’m doing all the time.
<@JoneseyBJ Which is more important? Look nice or be on time? I mean, if it’s an either/or situation?>
Wow – lots of responses and @ mentions:
<@JamesAP27 @JoneseyBJ On time of course. How can you be so vain? That’s so unattractive.>
Humph. Right. We’ll see about him.
<@JoneseyBJ @JamesAP27. Is not vanity but CONCERN for others i.e. not startling or scaring them.>
6.45 p.m. Shit shit, have put waterproof mascara on lips as same Laura Mercier packaging as lip gloss and will not come off. Oh God. Am going to be late with black lips.
7.15 p.m. OK. In minicab now, still rubbing at lips. Have time for a few more tweets.
<@JoneseyBJ Calm assured – in taxi now – receptive responsive Woman of Substance . . .>
<@JoneseyBJ . . . goddess of joy and light! *Rasps at cab driver* Noooo! Don’t go down f***ing Regent St!>
<@JoneseyBJ *Holds nose, talks in police radio voice* Going into the Dean Street Townhouse. Going INTO the Townhouse.>
<@JoneseyBJ Wish me luck. Over and out. Roger.>
<@JoneseyBJ *Whispers* He’s FANTASTIC.>
<@JoneseyBJ There is a lot to be said for the younger man as long as not young enough to be legal grandson.>
<@JoneseyBJ He’s smiling! He’s stood up like a gentleman.>
Roxster was indeed gorgeous, was even more handsome than his photo but, crucially, merry-looking. He looked as if he was going to burst out laughing all the time. ‘Hellooo.’ Was just about to instinctively reach for my phone to tweet <He has the loveliest voice> when he put his hand on top of mine on my phone . . .
‘No tweeting.’
‘I haven’t . . .!’ I said insanely.
‘Jonesey, you’ve been twatting or twunking all the way here. I’ve been reading it.’
DATE WITH TOY BOY
Tuesday 22 January 2013 (continued)
I shrank down sheepishly into my coat. Roxster laughed.
‘It’s all right. What would you like to drink?’
‘White wine, please,’ I said sheepishly, instinctively reaching for the phone.
‘Very good. And I’m going to have to confiscate this until you’ve settled down.’
He took my phone, put it in his pocket and summoned the waitress, all in one easy movement.
‘Is that so you can murder me?’ I said, eyeing his pocket with a mixture of arousal and alarm, thinking that if I needed to summon Tom or Talitha I would have to wrestle him to the ground and lunge at it.