A watch enthusiast tries to write romance, part II

You thought I forgot about this? Sure, it's been a month, but I finally have something to show my many eager fans who've been desperately waiting for the second part to this steamy horological epic. Here's the original post, for those who want context.

I woke up in a strange, lonely bed. I was immediately confronted with the intense desire to throw up. I was hungover, and badly so. I rushed to the toilet and temporarily made my lungs come out of my body. "Richard, are you okay?" I heard her call. "I'm— f— fine, Sarah," I replied. She hurried over to the bathroom. "Oh, you poor thing," she said. I could feel her eyes glaring down at me.

Once I had recovered my strength and got up, I followed her to the kitchen. Her house was strange and unfamiliar. I didn't remember walking in. A sweet, syrupy smell was emanating from the stove; she had made pancakes, still warm, with butter melting all over them. She walked to the dining room and pulled one of the wooden chairs out from under the table and invited me to sit down. She returned with two plates, carefully balanced, one in each hand, setting one with a large stack of pancakes down in front of me. It reminded me of The Rock, who famously eats a lot of pancakes and wears Panerais and IWCs. I was still wearing my Breitling though. I would have changed it out for my Sinn, because her eyes really were like the antireflective coating on its sapphire crystal, but I was in this girl's house, with no memory of how I ended up there and no access to my watch collection.

"So, what do you do for a living?" she asked, still with a little bit of pancake in her mouth. I was a graphic designer. Breitlings were designed for men who did manly things like fly aeroplanes and set things on fire, not for scrawny guys in the tech industry who sat in front of a laptop all day. "Er… I… uh… I'm an Aerospace Engineer… at… Lockheed Martin." "Lockheed Martin?" She began smiling. "I'm actually also an Aerospace Engineer, for Boeing. I'm sure you know, but Luminox partnered with Lockheed Martin to make the AIR series." She paused and looked up at the ceiling, clearly fantasising about something. "Knowing that you're an Aerospace Engineer, I would have expected a Breitling Aerospace. Why the Colt?" she asked sweetly. I smiled like every cool and manly Breitling ambassador ever (Erling Haaland, Adam Driver, Brad Pitt, Jerry Seinfeld, Gordon Ramsay, Tom Cruise, Bear Grylls, Bruce Willis, David Beckham, Harrison Ford, Henry Cavill, Idris Elba, Leonardo DiCaprio, Richard Hammond, John Travolta, and, of course, Lil Wayne) and said, "that would be too obvious, Sarah. I'm a man who likes the less obvious choice. Say, why do you wear a Tank if you're an Aerospace Engineer?" She smiled. "Same answer as you. I guess we're not too different, you and I. Two watch nerds in an Apple watch world." She leaned over towards me, blushing. She put her hands over mine. "We can be something, Richard, I know you're thinking about it too." I smiled, but pulled my hands out from under hers. "Before I commit to anything, how did I get here? The last thing I remember was walking home with you in the rain," I said. "That's exactly what you did. Then I showed you my watch collection and we had some wine and then we cuddled for a bit and then I made pancakes. Boom, we're here now." "I… I'm willing to take you up on that offer, S— Sarah," I said, feeling the confidence my Breitling gave me wear away as I grew more and more enamoured. My heart began beating so fast that it would positively break any fitness tracker.

She finished the last piece of her final pancake. "What do we do now that we're a couple? I mean, my fantasies haven't extended to this point, so… I kind of don't know what to do. Any suggestions?" I looked outside at the drizzling and foggy town. The classical architecture suddenly looked as stunning as the first time I saw it. "It's pretty unpleasant out there, so… how about we watch Teddy Baldassarre and cuddle?" I asked. Sarah smiled and her blue eyes gleamed. "That sounds… perfect."

I think the next instalment will be Fifty Shades of Fumé, with even more jargon.