When Your Date Seems Too Good to Be True

When it's too good to be true; Live in the moment, regret it later.

So I'm walking down the sidewalk minding my own, thinking about everything except a man and paying really close attention that I don't step on a crack. The next thing I know I'm face down on pavement. When I finally catch my breath and shake the stars out of my head, I'm looking straight in to the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen in my life. At that moment I knew exactly what it was I was looking for in a man. Amazing blue eyes.

An amazon hero with an aristocrats nose and a beautiful smiling mouth. Not something my mother would approve of, but definitely worth a little discomfort. So I struggled from my cozy haven of concrete and cracks and managed to quell the stars that were still swirling in my head, but the butterflies dancing in my tummy were more difficult to tame.

A few bumps, scratches and bruises later I am sitting in a coffee shop eating a donut with Mr. Blue eyes. How wonderfully romantic! I didn't care that he was using the table as his office or that I was practically non-existent, even the fact that he looked at his watch every few minutes didn't disturb me. I was set on auto-pilot, examining every detail of what I thought must be a Roman God.

After six cups of coffee and four donuts later, my blue-eyed Roman God, very abruptly, puts his make-shift office away, flags the waitress and looks directly in to my eyes. I was toast! I must have fainted!

The next thing I remember, I'm in his arms and under my sheets. How we arrived there I didn't know and didn't care. He didn't seem to mind either. We were there and for a little while it was good. I snuggled down deeper in my new lovers embrace and peacefully thought about how it would be in the morning. With a contented sigh and a smile curving my lips I fell asleep.

The morning after. . .

I stretched and felt the glow of the aftermath. I swished my arms across the bed expecting to feel a warm naked body and instead I felt crumpled cold sheets. The only sign of my tall, breath taking, beautiful, blue eyed Roman was his smell on the pillow I now held tight to my chest.

I can't explain how or why I found myself swept away and ignoring every standard I had lived by for 39 years. Why I didn't see that he was too good to be true, or, most importantly, why I didn't get his name. I can offer only this thought...........When in Rome do as the Romans do.