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.

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.