My face is flushing

My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing

My pulse is rushing

My final evening in Atlanta. Earlier in the day Preston’s friend, Robby, had given me his phone number to organise dinner so I dropped him a text, asking what time he was free & where he wanted to go, explaining it was the British gay guy in case he was wondering who the message was from. His response was “Hey British. I live near the park so somewhere midtown”. I told him that he could call me Chris and that midtown worked for me as George’s place was midtown too. We exchanged a few more messages. He kept calling me "British". We arranged to have dinner at a place in midtown called Marlow’s Tavern.

Margaret Mitchell House

I sent Bob a message with the restaurant name, location & time we were getting there. Robby said that he could pick me & George up on his way to Marlow’s as he would be driving and would pass George’s place on his drive over. I said that it didn’t look like it was too far of a walk for us and it would take us right by the Margaret Mitchell House so I could get some photos. George and I set off towards the restaurant. As we stood waiting to cross 10th Street the driver of a car going by waved at me. I waved back, not really getting a good look at the guy behind the wheel. George asked who I was waving at. I told him that I assumed it was Robby as I didn’t know that many Atlantans. I got a text a few minutes later from Robby saying “Hey British!!!” which confirmed my assumption that he was the driver.

George and I arrived at the restaurant first. I did a scan of the place but couldn’t see Robby. Having only seen a couple of photos of him on Facebook I wasn’t 100% sure I would recognise him. We settled ourselves into a booth and ordered a drink. A few minutes later Robby arrived and I stood up to greet him. My heart rate immediately picked up and my throat went dry. He was a good couple of inches taller than me, very good looking, piercing blue eyes, a perfect smile and he was wearing a t-shirt made it clear that he had good arms, shoulders and pecs. He started to speak and had an accent that made me want him to just talk at me all night. I introduced Robby to George, explaining how I knew George, and explaining to George that Robby was a friend of my NOLA host. I also texted Bob to let him know that Robby was fit, knowing he would realise that meant I fancied him. Bob knows me well enough to know that I am not the best at talking with men I fancy.

My head is reeling

Bob duly arrived and the four of us chatted and ordered some food. I was sat next to Robby and was doing my best not to stare at him. Bob, sat opposite Robby, did a great job at keeping the conversation flowing. Given I was the common denominator between the other three diners I was often the topic of conversation. At one point Robby asked Bob “So how long have known British?”. Bob replied “Oh I’ve known Monkey for years”. I pointed out to both of them that I had been given a perfectly acceptable forename and they should feel free to actually use that. Neither of them acknowledged my request.

Ok, so Robby was tall, good looking and clearly knew where his local gym was. Maybe with all that going for him he was going to be thicker than two short planks. To try and test my theory I asked what he did for a living. He said he was a lawyer. I think most people would agree that the test for stupidity had given an inconclusive result. A few more questions revealed that he was well travelled and cultured. Crikey. I guess if I had a “type” then he would fit the bill, having ticked a lot of the boxes already. I’d only just met him so there were some things I felt I couldn’t ask to see if he ticked the remaining boxes.

My face is flushing

I was fairly quiet over dinner, conscious about not wanting to say anything stupid in front of Robby. Trying not to stare was difficult. At one point we both moved in our seats and our legs ended up touching for a moment or two under the table. I could feel my cheeks burning. A couple of gin cocktails helped though and the four of us had a very enjoyable dinner and conversation. Everyone seemed to get on really well and it was a great last night out. We all declined dessert (typical gays) and the waitress brought us our bill. We settled up and then came to say goodbye. Robby gave me a hug, giving me a chance to confirm that he did indeed know where the gym was and that he visited regularly. He said goodbye to Bob and George and made a quick exit. I’d missed my chance to ask if he fancied a nightcap and I mentally kicked myself.

My lovely host George

Bob was headed back downtown to his hotel so George and I walked him as far as the road with the MARTA station & pointed him in the right direction. We said goodbye, got a couple of photos of me with Bob & George and walked back home. I needed to pack so set about doing that as soon as we got back to George’s. I’d just finished packing when my phoned vibrated. I picked it up – it was a message from Robby. He said that he had had a really nice evening and wished I was staying in Atlanta a little longer. My heart rate picked up. I replied, telling him the feeling was mutual. He told me to change my flight to Fort Lauderdale for one later in the week, I told him to bunk off work and come to Fort Lauderdale. I sent a message to Preston telling him about the evening.

The next morning I did the goodbye and thank you routine with George and made my way to the airport. I checked in for my flight and made my way through security to the departure lounge. Robby sent me another message telling me I should stay in Atlanta a few more days. I sent him a photo of my boarding card (seat 24a), telling him I was already checked in and Florida bound. I told him if he hurried he could still get to the airport in time for the flight. I had some breakfast to pass the time until boarding. As I sat in my seat waiting for the plane to fill up I quickly checked Facebook to see what the latest news amongst my friends was. Robby had updated his status to say he wished he were in 24b. I smiled. I took off for Fort Lauderdale, part of me wishing I were staying in Atlanta for a few more days, part of me wondering if I would get to see him later on my trip.

“My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing” 
Lyrics from What Is This Feeling from the musical Wicked