He ticks all the boxes!

Sorry guys and gals, I’ve been too busy to blog lately and certainly haven’t had much to report on the lurve front. In fact, I’ve neglected this blog far too much; I’ve not spent enough time on it since I started it a few months back and I don’t feel my personality is shining through. Hmmmm. Must try harder. And if I don’t get round to it by December, Christmas shopping and parties will take over, and I’ll have to make it my New Year’s resolution.

Anyhoo, let me tell you about my latest date; let’s call him D. He’s tall, dark and handsome and that’s a very good place to start, let me tell you. Short and ginger doesn’t quite cut the mustard. He’s got a good job, works and lives in London, has an active social life and plays sport. Plus he’s funny too.

He’s another internet find but God knows what he’s doing on there; I find it hard to believe he’s not bombarded with offers of affection on a daily basis. But for some strange reason, he chose me. Thank you God!

We’ve been emailing for a few weeks and we engaged in proper conversation injected with humour. Sometimes guys send the most super dull emails, littered with spelling errors, bad grammar and irritating questions like “how’s your day been?”. Mundane. This guy’s were different and I was pretty sure we’d get on. Our weeks are busy, we work hard, play hard and like to let our hair down at the weekend.

He looked slightly different from his photos on t’internet, but not in a bad way; just different. And although I could tell he was a funny guy at heart, he was a tad more reserved in the flesh. There was something a bit mysterious about him. And I liked it.

We met for a drink in a London boozer and despite having to shout into each others’ ears a bit, three and a half hours flew by with plenty of positive body language. He walked me back to the tube station and…. the bit I dread… the should we/shouldn’t we kiss situation. It’s so awkward when one half doesn’t want the kiss and has to awkwardly make an excuse and run off. It can all get very messy.

But, the body language was good. We were facing each other, our winter coats brushing against each other’s. Simoultaneously we drew closer and kissed for what seemed like forever. Nope, it wasn’t perfect – clashing of teeth and a few timing issues ensued – but it wasn’t half bad and I felt a bit dreamy as I headed off into the tube station. Even my ticket failing to work as I attempted to pass through the station’s barriers couldn’t dampen my spirts and I rode the train home in a kind of dream.

So, all should be good. A super date with lots of potential and both parties appeared to get on well. But this is where I start to panic. First, thoughts of our wedding and what our children would look like. NOT!!! But, seriously, I do worry ‘cos when I like someone, it usually goes wrong and I have a bit of a history of not being able to bag a second date. And I so want a second date with D.

We exchanged more emails and I suggested we meet nearer to mine next time. To cut a long story short, he’s been working long hours and we’ve not fixed anything up yet, and now it’s too weeks later. What does that mean? Am I panicking unnecessarily? God only knows.

All I know is this. D has potential; he’s the first guy in ages who appears to tick all the boxes. Yes, that’s a clinical way of putting it but for someone as fussy as me, this guy is a catch. I’m a busy gal and can’t waste my time on any old fool, so fingers crossed. Here’s to a second date with D.

Third date decider

Okay, so I’ve made my mind up about Big Guy. It’s a no, no way, yuk, double yuk. I was never really sure how I felt and that in itself made me think it wasn’t meant to be. So, I went round to his place for dinner at the weekend, knowing that this, the third date, would be the decider.

It started badly as he hadn’t bothered to vacuum and bits all over the carpet tends to bother me somewhat. He cooked a tasty dinner, I’ll give him that, but after three dates conversation was still not entirely comfortable. Problem was, I don’t think he even noticed.

He had his hands all over me and it’s kinda tricky to get to know someone better as a person when they have their mouth stuck to yours. I knew Big Guy fancied me, that much was clear, but was he interested in me as a person? Not so sure.

On date number one he was a bit lacking on the asking questions front but at that point I was just grateful that he could talk and there would be no awkward silences. But by date three, this guy still wasn’t asking questions. He’d happily ramble on about his dull doings but never really asked me much. So, in order to get my views across, I had to speak up and  blurt out statements of fact.

We didn’t engage in conversation, more like swap statements. We each had our own monologue and just happened to stop talking when the other one broke into speech. To be honest, I was more interested in watching X Factor and found Big Guy’s running commentary a tad irritating. So, I made my excuses and left early – not before being pawed to death as I tried to run out the door.

I slept on it and decided, no way, this was not meant to be and I couldn’t endure a fourth date. The constant and mindless texting did my head in and, while Big Guy is fanciable, our personalities do not match. I consider myself pretty lively, a tad funny and sometimes mouthy. Big Guy is boring, uninspiring and has no spark.

So, when he text asking when he was going to see me next, I had to be honest. The exchange went something like this:

Me: “I’ve got a really manic couple of weeks (and explained reasons) and won’t be free for a while. It’s not fair to keep you waiting and, to be honest, I’m not really sure how I feel about you and me. Sorry!”

Big Guy: “You’re dumping me by text? I thought we got on well?”

Dumping him by text? We only had three dates, we weren’t exactly going steady!

Me: “I’m talking to you via text because I don’t have time to see you and because I have never spoken to you on the phone before. I like you but I find conversation a bit stinted and want a guy to be interested in me as a person, not just pyhsically.”

Big Guy: “Conversation is a two way thing and yes, I am very attracted to you but I like you because you’re intelligent and sporty and want to get to know you better.”

Yes, conversation is a two way thing and that’s the problem. I’m having to do it on my own!

Me: “I agree, conversation is a two way thing but it’s hard when one person doesn’t ask many questions as that’s how people get to know each other. Conversation does not flow between us and there is no chemistry personality-wise. Sorry, that’s just how I feel. You’re a great guy but not the guy for me.”

Big Guy: “Shame, do you want to meet for a drink when your busy couple of weeks are over?”

HELLO! Did you read any of my last texts??!! Men truly do not listen.

So, I told him to give me some space, ie not text, call, write, email or poke me via Facebook, until the end of the month and if he is still pining then, to get back in touch. And then I will say no again. I already feel like a weight has been lifted – no irritating texts, no pressure to fit someone into my hectic schedule and no one clawing at my clothes in an attempt to get them off.

Ahhh, singledom. You can’t beat it.

Panic!

Okay, I am panicking big style ‘cos I have absolutely no idea how I feel about the new guy I’ve been dating. I only saw him on Saturday and when he text me on Monday morning (he’d text a lot on Sunday too) asking what I was doing after work ‘cos he wanted to pop round and see me, my instant reaction was to think err, God no.

I stretched the truth a little and said my sporting commitment that evening would last two hours when it was actually 90 mins. Lie number one. And that I’d be going there straight from work. Lie number two. The thing is, I wouldn’t have much time between work and sport to get home, get changed, eat and run out the door anyway, so a man would have been an unwelcome distraction. And when I return home I’m usually a sweaty mess and no man, at this early stage in the dating game, is prepared for that.

I kinda fobbed him off a bit and said something about patience being a virtue and him having to wait until Saturday to see me – which is when date number three is planned. But I’ve just been checking his Facebook page and some girl has written on his wall complimenting him on his new profile pic and signing it with a kiss. I felt this jealous rage well up inside. Unreasonable or what!

So what exactly do I feel? Have I been single so long that dating is just so foreign to me that I’m a bit numb to it? But aren’t I supposed to jump up and down with excitement at the prospect of a guy that’s interested in me? And does it mean I don’t like him enough because I’m as yet unsure. Confused.com! Totally!

I first thought that you were supposed to get fireworks and you’d be desperate to see that person all the time. But I’ve grown up a bit and realised that it’s not like that for everyone and sometimes love grows. I am attracted to this guy, defo, but personality-wise I’m not 100 per cent. But I barely know the guy and feel I should give him a chance. And I’m so used to my own company that I sometimes don’t know what to do in the company of new people.  Maybe I’ll make more of an effort when I’m round his place, on his territory, ‘cos my private space and time won’t be invaded so obviously.

Talk about mixed emotions. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I guess only time will tell. I need to get to know this guy better… and at least give him a name for the purpose of this blog. Hmmm, let’s call him Big Guy.

Back in the dating game

Eek, I haven’t put fingers to keyboard for a while, mostly ‘cos nothing much was happening on the dating front and I find it a tad depressing to delve into my singleness sometimes, even though I have some amusing stories to tell you from the past couple of years. But they can wait.

Okay, here’s the progress report. I joined an internet dating site under extreme pressure from a mate who was determined to write my profile. And she did a good job, granted, but it did little to stop the influx of strange men I was expecting to contact me. First there was the ugly guy who said he was 35 and looked 55. Sad. Then there was the fat guy who kept talking about being lonely and wanting cuddles. Desperate. Then the investment banker who sounded great but just wasn’t fanciable. Typical.

Again under pressure from my mate I sent out a barrage of emails to suitable bachelors and awaited replies. And waited. And waited. Not one of them got back to me. Uttlery deflated I gave up and decided to let them come to me, I’d just have to do a bit of quality control.

I held conversations with one guy who seemed normal. I say conversations, they were more like statements ‘cos he wasn’t really on the chatty side. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and met him for a drink and discovered he has no problem with being chatty at all – I struggled to get a word in, in fact - and although occasionally on the boring side he seemed nice, intelligent, witty, sporty etc and kinda cute. He’s also 6ft 3ins tall and well built. Perfect. He also held doors open for me, walked me to my car and actually made me feel petite. And that never happens!

Last night was date number two, and I cooked him dinner. It was a nice relaxed evening with lots of kisses and cuddles and he was quite keen to stay over. I think his intentions were honorable, he just felt settled in for the night, but I put my foot down and kicked him out at 11.30pm. Part of me was looking forward to curling up in bed – alone – and watching a DVD. Is that normal when I guy is offering to help you warm the bed?

So, this guy is nice and I like him, I do. The main downside is that he rambles on a bit and he likes innuendo text messages which I do not. All men seem desperate to engage in sex talk via text and that’s a game I refuse to play. It’s boring, unoriginal and a waste of free texts, end of.

So, what was the point I was making? Ah yes, he’s a nice guy and today he’s told me he’s smitten, bless, but part of me thinks: is this what I want? Do I have time for someone else in my life? Am I willing to give up some of my “me time”, why am I not feeling totally blown away by all the compliments and attention?

Perhaps this is just the way it is and I’ve forgotten what it’s like. Perhaps I’m a bit wary about getting hurt, hurting other people and dating in general? I haven’t told my mate about the dates either, I kinda didn’t want any added pressure. A couple of people know but generally I’m keeping my gob shut until I actually have something proper to report, ie like changing my single status on Facebook. Now that really is serious stuff!

Got dinner at his place next week and he’s already hinted about staying over so I can have a drink. Does he think I’m an alcoholic? He mentioned the spare room but I know that’s an unlikely arrangement and I want to retain some control over the situation and not exchange bodily fluids with someone until I’m ready.

Funny how one night stands with strangers are perfectly acceptable yet different rules apply to dates. Hmm. Will keep you posted.

Desperate measures

I’ve not blogged for a while, simply because I’ve had nothing to say. Nothing, nada, nowt. On the men front I have nothing whatsoever to report. There are no men on the go or even on the horizon and I’m starting to wonder why I’ve called myself Dating Dolly when I’m not actually dating. Single Sally perhaps?

Anyway, desperate times call for desperate measures. So, I have joined an online dating agency. Yes, the shame of it, I know, but what’s a single girl to do? I’ve done internet dating before, in fact I’m an old master at it, and I vowed never to go back.

A string of dating disasters and the fact the internet has bled the dating scene of romance and turned the search for a boyf into some kind of clinical process, forced me to go back to the traditional way of actually talking to potential love interests in the flesh. But this hasn’t worked either, so in desperation I’m going back for a second try online.

I have moved postcodes since my last bout of internet dating so who knows, maybe the city I live in now holds more dating potential than the last. It certainly can’t get any worse!

So, what’s forced me to take such drastic action? Well, usually when people ask me about the men in my life I usually have something to tell them – at least one dating story (horrible or otherwise), at least one guy I fancy or at least one guy who has potential. But lately there’s been nothing to report. And I want to have something to report.

So folks, I will keep you posted. But I’m not holding my breath.

PS Never heard back from Tall Guy (see previous blog post as I can’t be arsed to link to it). Bovvered? Not really.

Not a good investment?

Tall Guy has been in contact so I should be pleased although I’m not really that fussed. Firstly, when I asked if he still wanted to come over this weekend he suddenly remembered that he can’t see me any weekend ‘cos he works in a bar Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. “I hope this won’t be a problem,” he writes.

Er, well, yes, it is a bit of a problem as I work Monday through Friday full time, as I’m sure he would have realised if he’d put his brain in. I have no objection to him coming over in the week but am reluctant to take time off only for him not to turn up. Which will most likely be the case.

So, although I would love to get my hands on Tall Guy’s athletics limbs once more, I’m not sure it’s a good investement. For all the time and effort I’ll have to put in just to organise a damn date probably won’t be worth the investment. I just can’t be bothered. It will never turn into a relationship and one night/two night/three night stands are more effort than pleasure.

But, apart from Tall Guy, there are no other guys on the scene. Not one. Not one single love interest, small crush or regular flirtation. I need to get hunting for a new victim!

Raise your hand if you hate couples

I love the view of the lake from the window of my apartment, it’s fabulous. No matter what the weather or time of day I love gazing out at the baby swans that float across the water, the windsurfers gliding towards me and the ducks being fed by passers-by. There’s just one thing that ruins it – couples.

Sadly, my lakeside apartment appears to be a haven for loved up couples and I find it most depressing. They’re either strolling hand in hand, walking the family dog, cycling with their 2.4 children or smooching on the grass. It makes me sick. Maybe I should start spitting at them from the balcony?

Okay, so I’m single, but I really don’t need reminding of it every time I look out the window. And it is every time I look out the window. Every time! Do they know I’m single and gather outside my pad just to spite me? Do they pull on fake smiles and loving looks every time they walk past my window, just to make me envious of their coupled-up happiness? It’s starting to feel that way.

I never see single folk going for a stroll; the occasional jogger perhaps, but generally people travel in pairs. It reminds me that my apartment is so wasted on one person. It’s really a home for two (certainly financially) and I’ve yet to have a member of the male population through the door. I can’t really count the Sky man of the telephone engineer can I?

Lately, I have been pining for a boyfriend. And I get angry when I do that ‘cos I should be independent and happy with my single status and not reliant on men for an ego boost. But I do. I’m home alone on a Friday night and watching TV would be so much better in the arms of a hunky guy.

My ideal Friday night would consist of:

• Coming home from work to find hunky boyf cooking up a treat in the kitchen. It smells fab. He’s also tidied up.
• Crack open a bottle of Pinot Grigio and share a pre-dinner, candle-lit bath with boyf – massage aplenty.
• Over tasty dinner (eaten in our his and hers dressing gowns) we engage in intelligent conversation. He asks me about my day and how I’d like to spend the weekend.
• Move to the sofa where the dressing gowns come off and we engage in a bit of…you know what…I don’t need to go into details. He hits all the right spots, says he loves my body and we orgasm together.
• Curl up on the sofa for post-sex DVD and cuddles before retiring to bed. His arm doesn’t leave my waist all night.

A girl can dream. My actual Friday night consists of:

• Work late and then head to TK Maxx to buy nothing in particular and return home with two vests, a pair of shorts and some flat shoes. Random.
• Put a load of washing on and empty the dishwasher.
• Catch up on emails and bill payments. This somehow runs into a couple of hours.
• Tuck into microwave meal for one. It’s low fat so tastes of nothing.
• Pour glass of wine from bottle that’s been open for two weeks. It’s yukky and I can’t be bothered to open a fresh one.
• Crave chocolate but the cupboards appear to be sugar free. A mug of hot chocolate takes the edge off.
• Cut toenails and paint them.
• Retire to bed. Alone. Read book and fall asleep to live Big Brother.

Line up the single folk and pick your victim

It was a mate’s significant birthday over the weekend and as well as promising us cheap booze, a finger buffet to die for and plenty of cheesy dance music, she also highlighted the number of single men on the guest list. Excellent news, fresh victims, I thought.

There were a few single gals at the do, all stunning as is always the case, and three or four single chaps. Trouble is, you kinda assume that all single people will be drawn to all other single people and that’s just not the case. You can’t just pick your guy and go home with him. Shame.

So, when two of the guys stated a preference for my lovely blonde mate, my heart sank. There were single guys in the room and they just weren’t interested in me. My self confidence is nose diving a bit at the moment and I’ve come to realise that I’m just not that good looking. I ain’t ugly either but with so many single stunners out there, us average folk don’t get a look in. Depressing stuff.

As much as I enjoyed the party I was a tad miffed that none of the guys took a shine to me. I even wore a dress. Me and another mate sloped off into town after the party and drowned our sorrows. Not helped by the fact that we were joined by her foreign friend and Mariah Carey lookalike. She stopped guys in their tracks and, quite rightly so, lapped up the attention. Us two stragglers were defo the ugly friends that night!

I did manage to smooch with a guy called Gavin who took my phone number, reluctantly, so I insisted he shouldn’t feel obliged to use it. He hasn’t. To be honest, I can’t really remember what he looks like. Alcohol’s way of saving you from the trauma that he might well have been a minger.

Take the hint pal

Another random date from the past MSN-ed me last night. He gets in touch every now and then but we dated once and only once. He was a great guy but way too short for me and although I kissed him goodbye, it was more a sympathy kiss than a fancy kiss.

Anyway, every time he gets in touch he reminds me about my three date rule, something I must have mentioned to him before our date. The three date rule? Don’t sleep with a guy until the third date, basically. I don’t stick to this rule at all, let’s face it, but I like to pretend I have standards.

This guy was desperate for the third date to come around so he could jump in my pants. As if it’s that easy! Well, on occasions it is, but this guy didn’t get a second date. Take the hint pal.

He suggested meeting up again and I wasn’t too hesitant in saying no way, never, not on your life. I even told him he was too short for me and he didn’t take this as the insult it was intended to be. Ten out of ten for effort, nought out of ten for reading between the lines.

Blast from the past

I went on a date with a guy last year, just the once, and he randomly contacted me via MSN last night. This one date wasn’t horrible or uncomfortable, he just wasn’t the guy for me. And, as I had set myself the challenge to date at least one new guy per month in my quest to meet Mr Right ( a New Year’s resolution which proved sheer hell) I didn’t have time to waste on non hotties.

I met this guy, an Accountant, through the internet and he’d lied on his profile a bit. Ticking the “athletic build” box does not include being in possession of man boobs. A six pack, perhaps. Moobs? Certainly not. He was very tall, which I like, but Cupid’s arrow didn’t strike. Accountant was also a bit boring and kind of a know it all. Oh yeah, and he was a bit ginger. Am sure in his profile pic he was mousey.

Anyway, he contacted me via MSN, perhaps desperate to chat to someone online. And he chose me. So, we chatted. He spoke mostly of himself and it reminded me of one of the things I disliked when we were first MSN-ing last year – he never gives you time to reply before he’s writing his own comment. Hold fire boy, do you want an answer to your questions or not?

Last night he seemed to know more about the area I’ve just moved to (he lives two hours away) than I do, more about the taxi fares from my place into town and more about having to budget when you own your own house. He probably knows more about what’s in my wardrobe and how I like my hair cut as well. He also had to drop in the fact he works for a large firm, the pay is great and he doesn’t work long hours. I didn’t ask any of these questions and I felt he wasn’t engaging in conversation but merely talking at me. He also droned on about the terrible state of the economy, the impending recession and struggling to pay the bills. How very depressing. Pass me the rope. 

He mentioned he was house sitting for his parents in Leicester in a couple of weeks’ time, the city where we had our one and only date. Was he asking me to meet up with him? Well, I wasn’t biting. Our last text conversation involved him saying he’d enjoyed our date and to get in touch if I wanted round two. I text back saying “thanks, will do” and never got back to him. Why would he think I’d changed my mind after more than a year?

Even when I signed off stating it was time for hot chocolate and bed, he said he’d got “posh hot choc” and was going to do the same. Well, I can’t compete with that. He wins, he’s better than me. Knob.