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.

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.

FYI I am not on the turn

A “friend” this week skimmed through my holiday piccies on Facebook and made the strangest of assumptions. He thinks that because I went on holiday with three other girls, and because our holiday snaps don’t show us sucking the faces off some Spanish bullfighters, that I must be on the turn. In other words, he thinks I might be a lesbian.

I am a little offended. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian, if that’s your thang, but women don’t have the right plumbing for my sexual tastes.

Who are us single girls supposed to go on holiday with anyway? Our parents? I think not. And me and my girl pals have all reached a certain age where pulling random strangers on hollibops isn’t very cool. Therefore our holiday photos show four girl mates having a jolly good time, without the aid of the male species. Yes, I know, shocking isn’t it. But it can be done.

This “friend” – a male in his 40s – also makes reference to me “blow jobbing” a bottle in my Facebook profile pic. Sorry to disappoint, but I was simply taking a swig of Corona. Maybe this guy needs glasses!

Another one bites the dust

I’ve got a hen weekend this weekend, signalling the official loss of another single mate. In fairness, I didn’t know her when she was single but she’s not your average bride-to-be anyway; she still comes out, still gets drunk and is still just as much fun as us single folk.

So, this weekend will consist of alcohol, girl power. laughing and dressing up as Pink Ladies from Grease. And there will probably be a water pistol wily or two thrown in for good measure!

I do love hen weekends, although there are good and bad ones. It’s always a risk when a group of girls, who don’t necessarily know each other, go out. Will they get on? Will they stick to their little groups? Who will the bride-to-be stick with?

Sometimes they’re the ultimate night out for single girls – loads of male attention that you can act on, a chance to dress up and get a lot of attention (alongside bridey of course) and generally a good night out/weekend away. It’s usually the actual wedding that makes you feel a bit sad abut your single status – will that ever be me?

The last hen weekend I attended was brilliant from start to finish. We hit the town dressed in Moulin Rouge outfits – hotpants, fishnet tights, stiletto heels and corsets – perfect for attracting male attention, and we ended up chatting to some friendly coppers who were walking the beat. Turns out one of them was a Chief Inspector, and a pretty cute one at that.

At the end of the night my mate and I tracked him down and I handed him my mobile number, never for one second expecting him to use it. But he did! To cut a long story short, he ended up being my date at the wedding, much to the amusement of the girls on the hen night.

The bride had a huge noticeboard pasted with photos from the hen weekend in situ at the wedding reception and Mr Chief Inspector was on a lot of them. I only saw him once after that – he was cute, successful (I love coppers!) and a great kisser but he lived too far away and I find that once a guy starts sending saucy text messages, that usually spells the end of a relationship.

Men are often keen to swap naked photos and dirty sex talk but not so keen to take you out for a drink. Game over! And a Chief Inspector with a sock covering his crown jewels? Bit of a turn off!