It’s not every day that one gets invited aboard a warship. In fact, some people never get invited at all. It was just my luck that this year I was invited twice. While the first time was a rather casual affair kicking back with naval officers, the most recent visit was a more formal occasion to welcome the Russians. Yes, Russians. Russian naval officers in uniform at a cocktail party, to be exact.

My invitation came from a gentleman who I had gone on one date with months earlier. The date had been full of laughter and mischief, but I didn’t feel the romantic rays between us and avoided the post-date kiss. While remaining friends after, I was surprised to hear from him out of blue with such an enticing invitation. Rob and I agreed to meet at the Cactus Club for a cocktail and banter. Our conversation has been known to leave those in earshot with mouths agape. Saying we enjoyed taking the mickey out of each other would be an understatement. Ok, we were flirting. Perhaps there was some chemistry after all.

I arrived at the restaurant before Rob and stalked the bar for a stool. There were only two available but they were separated by one dashing man. I was no stranger to this older gentleman. He and I have been playing a silent game of sorts for years. Neither of us has said more than two words to the other, merely speaking with our eyes. Our actions and stares were so intense and exaggerated that they would make for a phenomenal silent film. One feature that sets him apart is his proclivity to sit alone. I admire this trait but am also curious as to whether it’s by choice or if he’s lousy company.

Approaching one of the vacant bar stools I could feel the tingles going down my spine. We had never been in such close proximity and I willed him to finally speak to me. I felt his eyes on me as I perched, and the heat seeped up from under my collar like a furnace. Still no words. I refused to look over until he spoke.

Before the man had a chance to say hello, Rob crept up and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. His boyish and playful demeanor was in such stark contrast to the mystery man’s refined poise which mirrored that of old Hollywood screen legends. Rob asked the man if he would mind shifting one seat down so we could sit next to each other. Rather than respond to Rob, the man looked me in the eyes as he quietly slid down the bar. His eyes were feeding the already burning furnace, keeping it roaring and raging. His gaze didn’t waver as Rob took the now vacant stool and started talking to me. I couldn’t shake the look.

I knew that the scarlet in my cheeks was taking over my body, and Rob instantly picked up on my flush. I quietly filled him in on my history with the man, and as I predicted Rob was intrigued like me. He also pointed out that Mr. Mystery wasn’t the only man staring at me. As I sheepishly looked around the circular bar, I noticed that I was in fact the only woman, and starved eyes settled on me rather than the menu. The temperature was getting warmer by the minute.

As Rob and I spoke our usual witty repartee, every so often I would lock eyes with Mr. Mystery. The way he was staring wasn’t even creepy. Intense, yes. Highly sexual, yes. Creepy, no. Our fixation on each other must have been apparent to the whole bar. There is no way our electricity was not felt by everyone. A smile finally escaped his lips, and I had to excuse myself to the washroom for some deep breathes. What was it about this man that made me tremble and redden in all kinds of nooks and crannies?

Returning to the bar, I found Rob speaking over Mr. Mystery to a newly arrived acquaintance. Again, the man just smiled. His presence was filling up the room. The dapper air and silent masculinity could have been bottled up and sold under Tom Ford. He was a man from decades ago, and I had never come across his kind in the flesh before.

Rob now left for the washroom and this opened up empty space between Mystery and myself. Except it wasn’t empty. It was charged with lightening made up of sexual tension and attraction. The moment I had been waiting for years to happen finally did and a hello escaped from his lips. Even that one simple word seemed to carry a weighted manliness reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart; it was so deep that I could feel it vibrating across the bar.

He leaned in so that his mouth was brushing my ear, “I’ve noticed you before. You’re very beautiful”. Cue swoon. From the tips of my toes and all the way to the ends of each strand of hair, the waves of yearning washed over my body. He held out his hand to introduce himself before settling back into his own space. When Rob returned, it was as though nothing had happened. The dreadfully boring state of normalcy had been resumed.

We left soon after and if it weren’t for a slow and calculated head nod from Mystery, I would wonder if I had just been dreaming of the interaction. I quite enjoy the relationship we have at the moment. Actual conversation may ruin the spell. It’s the insatiable yearning that is feeding the attraction, and my body now aches for the next brief encounter with Mystery.

Oh shoot. I appear to have lost my train of thought. Wasn’t this supposed to be a tale of Russian naval officers?

My lessons from a bar stool:

Lessons for the ladies:

1. Turn a date into a friendship. Just make sure it’s clear that you will not enter romantic territory down the line.

2. Let him speak first sometimes, no matter how hard it is to break the silence.

3. If you’re distracted by another while out with a friend, be honest about the cause of your dreamy state. You don’t want your friend to think he/she is a bore.

Lessons for the men:

1. Silence can be more impactful than words.

2. Drink alone. Don’t resort to your mobile to keep you company, and just absorb your surroundings instead, perhaps making eyes at pretty ladies.

3. Move slowly. It’s not necessary to force your number on a woman immediately. If you’ve already determined that you run in the same circles, wait until the next time before you approach. It will build the desire.

-SA

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