3rd Date With Le Spaniard

Hello!

I know you’re probably dying to read all about my weekend. I’ve been dying to tell you all about it!  And so, without further ado, here is the 3rd date with Le Spaniard, in all its gory detail, nothing held back.  It’s going to be a long one.  I’m not even sorry!

Friday night was like Christmas Eve to me. I stayed at home and primped myself to oblivion.  The beginning of the week saw my face starting to break out from stress and nerves, and luckily I found an amazing video on YouTube on how a wonderful young lady named Meredith keeps her skin amazing.  I followed the steps religiously every day for about 3-4 days and wow.  My skin… my skin!  It is fantastic.  After the first time using the items she advises to use, my skin felt much softer, hydrated and not greasy, completely free from make-up… I wanted to keep touching it!  The 2nd time I did the process (the next evening), my breakout was calming down and drying up dramatically.  By the 3rd and 4th time, my breakout was practically gone, and I was feeling confident enough to potentially remove my make up in front of him (I hate sleeping in my make-up).  I’ll even go so far to say that my skin feels neither too dry or too oily since I’ve been following the regime.  I’m completely converted.  Best of all, it’s all natural products that are probably in your cupboards at home!  I’ll link to her video J

GET CLEAR SKIN HERE!

Anyway, I’d been shopping earlier on that day (I’d left work early) and in the changing rooms trying on the perfect dress for dinner, I caught sight of my hair. My hair is naturally dark blonde, but I have highlights put through every 3 months to brighten it up.  Well, in the store, I could see an angled mirror showing the back of the dress… and the back of my hair.  Dark at the roots and scraggly and uneven at the ends.  I knew there was nothing I could do about the ends, but the roots concerned me most of all.  The last couple of weeks I’d been concerned the ash tone of my hair was washing my face out really badly.  I have a neutral skin tone so I can generally sway between slightly ash and slightly gold tones.
So while shopping, after selecting the most perfect lingerie, I popped into the beauty store and picked out a very soft natural pink nail polish colour (Rimmel Gel Polish, called Soul Session… I’m absolutely in love with it!) and took a look at the hair colours, picking up a Nice and Easy colour 8GN (Medium Neutral Golden Blonde) and then quickly putting it back down as it must have been at least 2 years since I tried a box dye on my hair.

I went home, packing my overnight bag and then starting my face ritual with the film “You’ve Got Mail” on the TV, and then moving on to my toenails and my fingernails. I went to bed with a face mask on and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Waking from a nightmare at 4.45am on Saturday, I tossed and turned and gave up trying to get back to sleep at 5.30am, ending up removing my face mask, pulling my jeans and a jumper on and getting in my car. I drove to my local 24-hour supermarket and ended up getting that neutral golden blonde hair colour… as well as a few more bits and pieces.

Returning home at about 7am, I got to work, painting my hair and then putting “Clueless” on the TV to watch while developing my hair. After blowdrying, I was devastated.  The roots were seriously orangey-gold.  I was mortified, but after painting silver shampoo on the roots and waiting for 20 minutes, the colour was phenomenal.  My hair was finally complete at 9am.  I pottered around for a while and then eventually got in the bath at 11am, lounging and exfoliating and prepping as much as possible.  Then I packed the last few bits and pieces, put my make-up on (I’d been watching Victoria’s Secret make-up tutorials on YouTube all morning for inspiration!) and put my travelling clothes on.  I was ready.

Unfortunately, it was pouring with rain by the time I was due to leave for the train station, so my mum had kindly borrowed me her umbrella, telling me “whatever you do, do-not-lose-this-brolly!”.

I was dropped at the station, I printed my tickets and boarded the train. My nerves were crazy, I kept playing with my hair, I was watching the train route, I was texting with Le Spaniard (who was waiting at the station already to meet me).  And suddenly, we were there, arriving in Manchester Piccadilly.  I brushed my hair, I applied more perfume and gathered my belongings, shooting off the train and through the turnstile.  I caught Le Spaniards eyes immediately, above all the rest.  The nerves took over and we rushed towards eachother, hugging and kissing and talking at top speed, being hustled towards the Tram.  I suddenly stopped and blurted out; “my mums’ umbrella!”  I shot back to the turnstile and explained to someone that worked there and he let me back through to get back on the train.  The train was filling up with passengers ready for the next journey, and I was rushing through the carriages trying to find the coach I’d been sitting in.  All the time worrying the train would be leaving the station!

Luckily I managed to retrieve the umbrella and get off the train a few minutes before it was due to depart.

We got to the Tram and I purchased a weekend ticket, travelling to his home first of all to drop off my luggage and get changed into my dress. He got changed also, and we got back on the Tram to Piccadilly Gardens.  We had a drink sitting outside a really busy pub near the Cathedral, drinking in the last of the sunshine, and then made our way to the restaurant.

Now, Le Spaniard had been teasing me about the restaurant for over a week. He wouldn’t tell me where we were going at all, only that he’d been recommended it by his family and so he visited the place over a week beforehand to deliberately choose the exact table for us.  He lead me down backstreets and through swarms of people in the city centre and finally came to a stop outside Jamie Oliver’s restaurant.

The boy did good, I had to admit. The table he’d specifically chosen for us was well away from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, it felt much more private and romantic.  The food and the wine was absolutely beautiful.  I’d never felt so special before – I’d never eaten in a celebrity restaurant… the nicest restaurant I’d ever been taken to on a date was a pub-food restaurant someplace!

Afterwards, we had a few drinks in a local bar before heading back to his. I removed my make-up, changed into my silk teddy and as it was so chilly, I put on a cardigan and some cozy knit socks.  We had a little fumble around in bed and fell to sleep all cuddled up.  It was the first time he’d curled up right behind me, and it felt wonderful.

Sunday morning, I woke up at 8am and realized I’d moved during the night, and we were both sleeping face to face. We mooched around in bed for a while, dozing in and out of sleep.  We eventually got up around 11am, showered and went back into the Centre of Manchester, popping to a Beer Festival on at Albert Square and then visiting a Bar and Grill called Solita for a very famous burger…  my diet had well and truly gone out of the window by this time!

We then went shopping and I purchased a bright pink Paul Costello purse and then we went for a coffee, Le Spaniard amused by my excitement of moving all my cards and cash over to my new purse in the Pret-A-Manager.

We jumped back on the Tram and picked up my luggage from his apartment, getting back on the Tram and then he took me to my platform then hugged and kissed me goodbye before I got onto the train.

Within an hour and half I was unlocking my own door, feeling a little sad that it had flown by so quickly, especially as I’d waited 2 weeks to see him and had been wishing the days would hurry by, but still basking in the afterglow of my trip.

Up in Manchester everything felt so vivid and exciting and alive. I walked so much while I was there, and I still could have walked more.  Here the transport links are not so great.  I don’t have a Tram system near me, so we are more inclined to use a car to get around here.  Things feel more subdued here.  The people aren’t as friendly as a rule.  They’re more reserved.  Personally I think it’s because in my small town, people don’t interact with others even 20% as what they do in Manchester.

Before I’d left the train, I’d booked my tickets again to see him on the 15th.  He has organized for us to go and watch the Manchester City vs Everton game.  Which means I need to purchase a great coat with a hood that keeps me super warm but also looks really cute.  I’m thinking something like a toggle fastening coat!

Putting together the perfect football game date outfit will keep me busy for a fair few days.  I’ve also got this tiny little hindering thing called my Birthday coming up, too and I’ve got a few days booked off work, so I’ll be busy with seeing my family for that…  12 days will shoot by, won’t it?  Won’t it?

And so, the 3rd date done and dusted, how do I feel about Le Spaniard now?

I feel as though I’m slowly getting to know him.  We haven’t yet touched on previous relationships, we haven’t spoken about defining things between us (although I have mentioned that I wouldn’t be prepared to go all the way with someone that was not my “boyfriend”, to which he responded he too liked to wait until not only he is sure, but I am sure, that we want to be with each other, and that he will absolutely respect my decision), we haven’t really spoken about the direction of whatever this thing is…  only that we are really enjoying each others company.  He tells me funny stories of the city breaks he has been on, the nights out he used to have, about a few of his friends at work, a little of his family, he helps me a little with my extremely basic Spanish…

Things are still really new, we are still feeling each other out, and I suppose because we don’t speak very often, the first hour or so is almost like our first date as we get used to each other all over again.

I’ll just have to see how it goes I guess! 

Until next time, it’s been a pleasure treasure 😉

Elle

 

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