I invited a man over, but didn’t have time to prepare. I must have been busy with something. Wearing my dressing gown, I had a pile of potatoes that needed peeling on the table.
And then, suddenly, the doorbell rang. He’s here. I couldn’t leave him standing in the hallway, so I had to open the door dressed like that. It was his first time visiting too. Definitely a bit awkward.
I flustered, waved my hands around, and invited him into the living room. Then I dashed to the bathroom to change. Five minutes later, I came back and found him missing. What on earth? Did he leave?
I peeked into the kitchen, and there he was, peeling potatoes with deep concentration, his head tilted to one side. I stood there for a moment, admiring him. It was sweet and filled me with warmth.
He’s a delightful person; you can’t help but appreciate him. His trousers and sweater matched perfectly, as if they were made for each other. Brand new socks, you could tell right away. A neat hairstyle and the subtle scent of an elegant men’s cologne.
After a light dinner, we decided to go for a walk. We jostled each other playfully in the narrow hallway, laughing. Then he gallantly handed me my coat as if I were a princess.
It’s wonderful to feel so cherished, like you’re something precious and fragile, deserving of care.
We strolled through the streets, and he gently supported my elbow on small slopes and inclines. He’d open doors, stepping aside graciously for me to enter.
We came across a flower stall, and he guided me in by the hand. He told the vendor, “Anything the lady desires.” Modestly, I asked for a single large red rose. With a playful smile, he shook his head and, a minute later, handed me a bouquet of a dozen fresh blooms.
We needed a bottle of wine, a small cake, and some fruit. In the store, he didn’t impose his opinions or offer unsolicited advice, standing slightly aside, like a queen’s page. Imagine that, well-mannered men still exist. Who would have thought?
That evening, happiness embraced me. Something joyous and extraordinary enveloped me with a tender warmth, and my heart responded with a gentle flutter.
He’s an uncommon suitor, as if stepping straight out of a classic novel. Occasionally, I wondered if he was real. Perhaps just an illusion?
With a playful turn, he locked eyes with mine, his gaze full of amusement, and seated me on the couch. With a swift, deft move, he set up the table and brought out the wine from the kitchen.
His intuition amazed me: without asking, he guessed where to find the glasses.
Glasses gleamed, fruits appeared inviting, and candles flickered. A gallant man by my side. What more could I want? Nothing. It was the pinnacle, the celebration of happiness any woman could imagine.
His phone rang loudly. He cringed slightly and mentioned it was his mum calling. With a pained expression, he stepped into the hallway.
Instinctively, I followed him quietly.
“Yes, mum, of course, mum.”
Then he suddenly barked, “I’ve had enough of you! Just buzz off!” and detailed exactly where.
Goodness, a wave of fear washed over me. Could he be a brute, or was something off mentally?
What should I do?
He returned with a charming smile, acting as if nothing happened. I pretended to be upset and mentioned that my friend’s husband was on a bender, leaving her and the child with nowhere to go. They were due in half an hour. With an earnest look, I asked, “Can we continue our celebration tomorrow? I’m really disappointed.”
He left. I couldn’t sleep all night. My heart was gnawed by uncertainty. In the morning, I texted him, “Sorry, but you didn’t win me over. No explanations.”
