The first compliment of the night was from a stranger waiting across the road from me, waiting for the lights to change. A young man with wide shoulders, a days worth of stubble and a ready smile. He looked like a working man, a mechanic or a builder, dressed up for a night out. We crossed the road, and as he passed me he half turned. I turned in response, in time to see him grin like a schoolboy.

“You look really hot in your jeans”, he said.

He smiled, and I smiled, and we went our separate ways. Usually a builder boy telling me how hot I am isn’t taken as a compliment. It’s considered tacky and uncouth. But not that night. I smiled to myself, that some stranger liked the way I filled out my jeans. There was no motive there, no saying sweet things to get into my pants. I’m going to call it an honest observation that lifted my spirits no end. As The Third Quarter would say, the universe was telling me to feel better.

The compliments after that came quick and steady. I was meant to be meeting a friend. A curly haired boy who last time I’d met him had been a sweet, perfectly charming gentleman. Tonight was no different, really. The cider he was drinking made him a little more honest, I think. A little bit more free with words than he might otherwise have been.

I’d interrupted a work celebration. He introduced me to many people with charming accents and cute grins. One man named ‘Bear’ kissed my hand on introduction. Another with an Irish accent picked me up and twirled me around after I made a flirtatious comment. It was pretty wonderful company to be in.

My curly haired friend brought me a wine, and then another. And then we were dancing in a crowded bar to a man playing acoustic covers. I was twirled and kissed and twirled again. It was delightful, and sweet. The whispered conversation between twirls was sweet, too. He couldn’t believe I was here, and did I know how pretty I was? How every man there couldn’t believe that I was on his arm? I believe I was being charmed, I was.

With the wine, and the people and the dancing and the sweetness . . . I really didn’t want to leave. I wanted time to stop and couldn’t we just pretend that this is how life is all the time? A ridiculously cute boy twirling me round, telling me I’m gorgeous? That my freckles are too ridiculously cute to be allowed? It was divine, and easy and couldn’t time just stop?

But, I’d already made plans with another set of friends, and I’m not one to blow friends off. No matter how cute the boy is. So, I left with a kiss goodbye and walked out into the dark. Away from the sweetness.

To be honest, I’m not really sure what I’m doing with myself. I’m loosing myself in wine and cute curly-haired distractions. Is this how moving forward is meant to go?