Dating post mortem

Well, what a turn up for the books. After gibbering away on Twitter all afternoon about my lack of sleep the night before (insomnia not partying) and subsequent drained Skin of Death, I was persuaded not to cancel the date and to turn to expensive face cream, Champagne and good old Blitz Spirit to get me there. India had pointed out quite rightly that often one enjoys most the events that one was most tempted to scratch and, in this case, she was absolutely correct.

After raiding the beauty bucket under the bed (I’m not an ex-beauty ed for nothing), I resorted to a killer combination of Sisley Eclat Tenseur, Clarins Beauty Flash Balm and MAC Strobe Cream under my RMK Foundation, which managed to raise the morgue like pallor of my skin to something approximating a youthful glow. I eschewed the Champagne for a reviving pot of Earl Grey and hopped it to the date feeling that I was, at the very least, earning dating karma points for Making An Effort and Showing Willing.

This time the date looked exactly like his photographs (very good looking in a sort of clean cut, actor-y way; not my type but appealing nonetheless), was not a midget, made me laugh & did not overstay his welcome. And, even more impressive, emailed within a few hours to ask me out for dinner. Of course I am ridiculously flattered by this and am going to say yes without having to resort to an opinion poll.