A blank space remains blank

Checked blazer, mid blue jeans. Ruffled hair, backpack on. I changed 3 times before leaving the house. Spotted the rain and ducked back inside to grab an umbrella. I reached the platform with seconds to spare. The train rattled along, stopping everywhere from West Hampstead to Canonbury, the sun setting through the windows. Half the train was heading home from work the other half heading out for the night. Turned-up sleeves, turned down collar. Text lighting up my phone, suede boots on wet cobblestones. The rain was pouring as I walked round the corner to the bar, “I’m in the back, in the yellow jumper”. An odd face, gorgeous from the front, pinched from the side. Grey-flecked hair, but he talked about missing London’s night life most of all. It was a fun evening, a few drinks and a couple of laughs, there won’t be a second date though. A few occasions where his jawline caught my eye, but no real spark. I like my older men older, arrested development doesn’t look good on anyone. I spent the whole time thinking ‘I could probably draw you into my web if I wanted to, I just can’t be bothered. I’ve got a blank space, but I won’t be writing his name.