No Deeper a Blue

I considered it good form to arrive early, making her wait would have tortured me. Even if she wouldn't have care. In fact, I arrived so early, I couldn't sit at the table, but I was kindly offered a stool at the bar.

With this moment of calm and made sure I could pronounce her name under my breath as to not make the bartender six feet from me think I was crazy, muttering to myself. This wasn't invalid, she was Irish, her name was Caoimhe. Understand my apprehension towards my first impression now?

With five minutes until she'd be five minutes early, I was confident in my pronunciations. Taking a sip of my beer, I had a look around the room.

Two atriums of dining areas separated by a central, square column culminating in the bar I was sat at. Lamps on long wires up to the ceiling dangled loosely to 6 feet above the ground and hovered above each table. I made a mental note to make sure I didn't hit my head on one as we sat down at the table. I found the positioning of the lights to be odd. They heavily lit the table but general the room was quite dark. It puzzled me. While scanning the room, all became clear. There were a number of phones in hands. Either the restaurant was promoting pictures of its food or they were fed up of people putting their flash on to take their photo for Instagram.

My now empty beer had settled my nerves and I handed to the bartender so that I didn't have an empty glass when she turned up. The bartender started to pour me another when I turned around and there she was at the door.

A beautiful mid-length black dress highlighted with subtle silver jewellery. A slight curve in her hair flexed around her face. She flashed her eyes in my direction and noticed me before turning back only to permanently set the blue pearls on me.

I stood to greet her, "Good Evening, would you like a drink?" I thought this would be an opportunity to make sure I bought her a drink. Our mutual friend, Brian, informed me she'd insist on splitting the bill.

She accepted, I let her order directly to the bartender. He returned with a glass of merlot and I paid for these, hiding the bill so that she didn't see the two beers. The second cheapest merlot, the perfect choice as far as I was concerned.

We carried our drinks to our table, led by a waiter. I pulled out her chair for her, trying to be as gentlemanly as possible. Sitting down opposite her was not going to be a chore, that was sure, is what I thought to myself as I was given my first real opportunity to properly study her face when I reached my chair. I was so mesmerised by her eyes I hit my head on the lampshade above our table as I lent forward.

The pain was sharp, right on the top of my head. I couldn't see it of course but the pain must have been painted on my face but that didn't stop her giggling through the standard lines of pity.

I managed to subside the pain by restudying her eyes. They were blue, a deep, deep blue. An ocean surrounded by the purest of white sand. There was nowhere I would rather be.

The realisation I ort to speak swept over me, it had felt like I'd lost hours gazing into her. I racked my brain as quickly as I could. I knew nothing about her, when you know nothing there's a huge range of choices of places to start. And for the life of me, I had no idea which alley to take.

As I was on the cusp of opening my mouth, after what felt like more hours had been lost, to blurt out some overused cliché, she came to my rescue.

"Brian tells me you teach, what do you teach?"

At least Brian told one of us a little about the other. Looking back, it was probably his idea of a joke. And I'll admit I'd potentially done something similar to him.

I have no idea how that date would've gone if I hadn't hit my head, drunk that extra beer I'm sure she saw, or stuttered for an eternity over my words. But I am very sure there would have be plenty more first dates and I wouldn't be where I am right now.

Buying her a ring, not a diamond. But a huge sapphire which still could not compare to her eyes.