So in the space since he sneezed and I said "Bless you" and I'd ended up at his table, there was the conversation that sprang up, as he asked first of all who had won our game of hangman, then asked what I was off to Northern Ireland for, then laughed at my mispronounciation of the town "Comber" (which I pronounced like "Comb" with an "er" on the end, not realising that the B ISN'T silent in Northern Ireland . . .). Then I asked him what he was over for (after all, he was on his own) and I suddenly couldn't hear a word he was saying. So, bearing in mind I was really a little bit tipsy by then, given that all I'd eaten all day was a flapjack, had been up since six am, it was around two pm and i was onto my fourth glass of wine . . . I announced "I'll come over" and, wine in hand, circumnavigated my way around the table and sat down opposite him.
I found out a few days later that he may or may not have deliberately started speaking quietly so I would do this. I didn't mind. It was flattering.
So we starting chatting, then Mich came back and joined us and we were all getting on well and I thought "this is good - I quite like this guy and he's ALREADY met one of my friends". This is a good sign." On top of this, no matter how much i had thought i initially fancied him just based on first appearance... after talking to him I REALLY liked him. Like really really. I felt there was something there on his side as well, but I wasn't one hundred per cent sure. Most of the time I'm quite good at telling if a guy likes me (It doesn't happen often after all!) but I HAVE been wrong. Anyway, it all became clear after we docked.
Mich had ran on ahead to retrieve our care package for our friend A who we were staying with (the ferry, in their infinite wisdom, wouldn't let us bring nice bottles of wine on board with us, made us put them in the hold, unbeknownst to them Mich had vodka stowed in her water bottle - what idiots they are!). For some reason, earlier during our conversation, the matter of age had came up. It had turned out he was only 26, some six plus years younger than me. I'd ended up having to produce my passport to prove what age I was. This came up in conversation again, and I ended up jokingly using a line I have never EVER used in real life before. Well, not under these circumstances anyway.
Him: I can't believe you're 32.
Me: I can't believe I am either. I don't feel like I am.
Him: Well, you're only as old as you feel.
Me: Or the person you're feeling...
Him: Well, I'm 26...
And that was that. Then, in that moment, I established we were flirting.
Possibly because I actually said something along the lines of "Am I imagining things here, or are we flirting?"
Yes. I am THAT cringeworthy. I really am . . .