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.

Where there’s a wedding there’s a way

Hoorah, my four months without sex have ended. I think four months is the longest I’ve gone without a bit of bedroom action, apart from a long term relationship I had which involved sex twice a year for a couple of years. Who says a boyfriend equals sex?

Anyway, it’s not that I have a huge libido, I don’t. It’s more a personal challenge thing and I usually set a maximum three month period to go without. Beyond that and I start to get the urge in a major way and although no single girl should be without a vibrator or three, there’s no substitute for getting jiggy with Mr Biggy.

So, after four months without a Mr Biggy in sight, I managed to pull a cute chappy at my mate’s wedding the other week. I had a really good night with him actually, and although the sex was quick and generally not very good because we were both so pissed, I had muchos fun-os. We danced, we talked, we laughed, we chatted with each other’s mate and his arm barely left my waist, which was lovely.

He’s five years younger than me, which usually I’d see as a problem; I’ve always had a thing for older guys and find youngsters a bit less mature. And ,as I’m approaching a certain age, young guys – so my brother tells me – view us as desperate to settle down and trap a guy into a relationship. Kinda true I guess, but not altogether fair. Give us a chance guys!

So, Chappy came across as fun, intelligent and had good manners. Buying me a drink is always good manners in my book. The fact that by the end of the night I’d sunk enough Pinot Grigio to drown an elephant did take the edge of things slightly. I threw up at the end of the night (Chappy doesn’t know this and I did a good job of  getting rid of the evidence – sink stains, bad breath etc) so when he came up to the hotel room we had a fumble and although I don’t consciously remember making a decision to have sex, that’s what we did. It was awkward ‘cos we were in a single bed, we were very drunk and also pretty tired by this point. But hey ho, it’s broken the seal and I’m good for another three or four months.

If it hadn’t been for the booze I don’t think either of us would have slept much. Chappy is quite a big guy and a single bed is no place for two people to enjoy a restful night. We both felt like we’d slept on the bedside table and I’m sure Chappy fell out at one point although I pretended not to notice.

I felt like poo the next morning and made my exit at 8am, doing the walk of shame through the hotel in floaty dress showing a lot of cleavage, and four inch heels. A little over-dressed for breakfast! I kissed Chappy goodbye and left him my number for good measure, not really knowing what to expect or if I was even bothered.

But, Chappy text me later that day and after a week or so of texting we arranged to meet. He was gonna come to my place for a chilled night in last night – and a bit of fumbling if I was lucky. He’d already warned me he was on call and may have to go to work, but that it hardly ever happened, and I had my pre-date afternoon planned – showering, shaving, moisturising and fishing out the candles and matches.

About three hours before he was due at chez moi, he got called to work – two hours away from where I live. Damn it. He was apologetic, bla bla bla, but part of me can’t help wonder if he’s lying and maybe he just chickened out? I don’t know. He has already suggested rearranging for sometime soon but I don’t like to get my hopes up. Guys let girls down all the time and I find it best not to get too excited. It’s a negative viewpoint I know, but the lower the expectation, the less the disappointment.

Anyway, watch this space. I hope me and Chappy hook up again, he was good company. And he looks pretty cute in his Facebook pictures. Thank God I wasn’t wearing me beer goggles that night!