But that would be getting ahead of myself.
I get few moments of non-toddler
I chose a new venue for lunch recently; there are many cafes along the Esplanade, and I'm slowly working my way through them. It was buzzing, and I managed to grab the last table as the previous occupants left. Perusing the menu, I was approached to see if I'd mind sharing the table. And that's when I met... let's call him BigTed. Not only does the Aussie Play School connotation appeal due to my new locale, but this guy is tall - a foot taller than my meager 5'2, solid and age appropriate (in a town filled with backpackers and OAPs, this final point is not to be sniffed at).
We started chatting. He made me laugh. And then I found out he's a muso. Good grief. I've never been one to desire the proverbial "I'm with the band" t-shirt. Especially now that I'm a single Mummy. OK, so this guy isn't only a muso, he's an engineer too. And a Dad. But I can't quite get past the muso bit.
He offered to take a competition card to the cash register for me. And then gallantly paid for my lunch. I was disappointed that he didn't ask for my number, so was glad when he texted me later that day to see if he could take me out again. He'd lifted my mobile number from the competition card... Ingenious or stalker-like? Perhaps I should name him ScaryBear instead?
Should I run a mile from this muso? Or embrace the creative?
Cheers, KangaRue :)