Mr P.S

Mr P.S is one man that I certainly won't be Dragoning any time soon. Do explain you say...

Well, lately I have been the subject of something called chevaleresque as the gorgeous French designer at work calls it.

For the rest of us typical Australian boags chevaleresque means chivalry, still don’t understand what it is? 

Oh! That’s because it doesn’t exist anymore (thanks boys) 

Well it didn’t in my fickle little world until I met Mr R which subsequently triggered some sort of bizarre ripple effect in my personal life. 

As Mr R packed up shop and disappeared back to Costa Rica I was ready to settle into the Winter alone with my Target bear onesie, a minuscule hot water bottle (that doesn’t even cover one bum cheek) and enough cookies and cream Quest Bars to fuel an entire army. 

That was of course until I met Mr P.S completely by accident. 

Ohhh Mr P.S

Long story short Mr P.S and I met at a new bar in Double Bay called Casablanca.

We locked eyes from across the room (duh) and as he was leaving he slipped me a piece of paper.
which said:

Dear brunette with green eyes, 

Your friend looks angry, maybe you should get her something to eat? 

M. 

          P.S I’d love to see you again my number is ...

It was the best note and P.S I had ever received.

Since then he's put every man I've ever dated to shame by sending bunches of flowers, tickets and even organising a romantic escape to The Hunter Valley. 

I can't stay it's unpleasant dating someone who does everything in excess. I mean...

You can stay at a B&B or you can stay at Chateau Elan...

You can stop and grab something quick to eat or you can cosy in for a 3 course meal.

You can get the courtesy bus to a winery or you can get a private helicopter...

Provided it stays parked outside Peterson's Champagne House while you sample the extensive range of bubbly.

You can order in or you can have a 400 day grain fed, premium piece of meat and a bottle of wine chosen especially for the occasion..

You can be a skinny bitch and have the meal sans gravy or you can be a big fatty like me and drown the meat in a pool of sticky deliciousness. 

You can walk back to your room or you can have a buggy drive you straight to the front door of your villa.

You can watch TV or you can watch the sunset and think how the fuck did I get so lucky?

You can date a man who is too afraid to be romantic or you can have a man who never underestimates the importance of finer details...

Like rose petals on the bed.

Sighhhh.

I don't want to brag but I feel as those I've picked Mr P.S straight out of the Silver Screen. Whenever I'm on a date with him it feels like I'm in a movie.

I know that half of you reading this are currently making vomiting noises - but dammit! I just don't care. 

Chivalry/chevaleresque whatever you want to call it, does still exist. Clearly.

Let's see how long he can stay in character shall we, and pray to the heavens that it never falls to shit.

What are the odds do you think? Ok maybe don't answer that.

Just let me enjoy the beginning of this love story ;)

xx