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.

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.

Bad advertisement for the male brand

My date for the last wedding I attended was hunted down on her hen night and I was hoping to do the same thing for my mate’s forthcoming nuptials. No such luck.

Nearly 20 of us hit the streets of Nottingham at the weekend, dressed as Pink Ladies a la Grease, and armed with dare cards and peg. The peg game rocks – the first girly to get rid of her 10 allocated pegs (the wooden washing line variety) by attaching them to guys without them knowing is the winner. The fun isn’t in getting rid of your pegs first but in the hilarity of unsuspecting guys hanging at the bar with their mates, completely unaware they they have two dozen pegs attached to the back of their shirt. Most men take this in good spirits and are happy to play along when their pals get pegged.

Anyway, yes, I was hoping that maybe the streets of Nottingham might throw forth a decent looking male who I could swap numbers and invite to be my wedding date in a month’s time. However, the streets were not paved with gold. Although there were at least three other gaggles of attractive hen parties strutting around the bars of Robin Hood terrotory, the good looking guys were clearly having a night off.

This is what we found:

• A guy who thinks Milton Keynes is a – and I quote – “shit hole” because it has lots of roundabouts. When asked why lots of traffic islands makes a place a “shit hole” he couldn’t answer. I think his brain stopped working at this point. Never trust the opinion of a guy with less than a dozen teeth in his mouth, that’s what I say.
• A guy who asked if I was a personal trainer because my calves were huge. Not sure if this is a compliment or not. The jury’s out.
• A guy that thought anyone wearing a Pink Ladies jacket would be up for a cuddle. Back off Mr Tactile.
• Two complete scumbags, clearly off their heads, who starting spitting at some of the girls in our party because an attack of paranoia meant they thought we were laughing at them. They must have been real tough guys threatening a bunch of girls wearing pink sparkly eyeshadow and limping home in their high heels. Losers! In all seriousness, they were incredibly threatening, had one of the girls in fits of tears, and were a terrible representation of the male brand. So we dobbed them in to the sexy looking coppers who happened to drive past a minute later. Ha!
• Lots of ugly guys who probably spend their weekends looking for hen parties to prey on.

So, all in all, not a successful night on the talent front. However, it succeeded in the girly bonding stakes. We shared jokes about men, swapped make-up application tips, expressed sympathy over the agony of wearing killer heels, danced in a variety of crazy styles and sang cheesy dance tunes until we could barely speak. You can’t beat a good girly weekend, even if it does result in a headache from hell and spending the better part of a gloriously sunny day sleeping off the effects of a heavy weekend.

But the dilemma remains – no date for the wedding! Maybe I’ll remain true to my single buddies and go it alone?

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!