The Honey Hunter: charmed

I think I need to calm myself down. I’m all carried away… there are rainbows and unicorns and small woodland creatures sitting around my feet singing uplifting songs in high-pitched warbling 1940s voices, butterflies are synchronised-flying and there are cartoon love-hearts pumping around all over the place.

Red shaver in woman hand against blue wall backgroundI have a date.

Yes. That’s right. I have a DATE!

A date with Charming Man no less. He went for it and asked me if I could fit him into my schedule. I wanted to scream out, “You betcha sweet ass!” And that’s not all I wanted to fit him into. But instead I politely said that I would be delighted – or words to that effect with an equal amount of demureness. Talk about painting a false picture of myself. But anyway, the main thing is that I have finally bagged a date and I am not going to let it slip away by frivolously using the word ‘ass’.

So, panic is setting in as the clock is ticking until D-Day – breathe! I’ve realised to my dismay that I’ve let myself go to the point I’ve even dreamt about how hairy my legs are, and that I probably need a lawnmower to clear the way. It’s easy being very lazy and not shaving your legs when you know no one is going to get anywhere near them. And even though I have no intention of Charming Man coming anywhere near my naked (newly smooth and hair-free) legs on a first date, just knowing they are not hairy will do my confidence the world of good. A woman can’t knowingly go on a date with hairy legs. She simply can’t.

As for panic about Charming Man and whether I will find him attractive in the flesh, the important things are:

  1. That he has teeth (he does not have a single smiling photo in his profile)
  2. That he has a nice voice with an attractive tone
  3. That he walks with a swagger

Yes I said swagger. I don’t want him limping like he has one leg longer than the other or doing a ‘John Travolta’, or any Zoolander rubbish. Just to walk as if, well – should I even say this – as though he has large goods. Not that I want him to have overly large goods as that’s no better than overly small goods. Just walk as though they are big. Should I keep this stuff to myself?

Maybe. But who cares? I have a D. A. T. E. Date. Ha. Go me. Yeah. Boom! Now I’m off to shave my legs… where did I put my lawnmower?

About Polly Rusyn

I am a professional photographer based in London. I liberated myself from office life within the travel industry in the summer of 2015 in order to follow my creative passions. Since then I have set up a photography business, finished a travel memoir, ‘Never Mind The Baggage’ (coming spring 2017), and I write The Honey Hunter - a blog about the dating adventures of Missy. Follow me on Twitter @pollyrusyn and see my photography on my website.