Fate? My arse!

I was about to go to sleep when I decided to have one more glance at Facebook. Without that glance I would not be here typing my blog post ferociously!

Apologies for the lack of blogging recently, but let me get you up to speed:

1) Went on a date with friend's housemate. Pleasant.

2) Went on a second date with friend's housemate. Pleasant again. Although we did look like two incredibly horny teenagers. Correction: two incredibly drunk horny teenagers.

3) Went on a third date to our lovely German market with friend's housemate. We agreed a date and time to have sex. Very organised!

4) Once home I thought about our dates. Sex kept coming up, but on his part rather than mine. So I sent him a message asking if he would be interested in dating after the deed. He replied he wasn't looking for a relationship. Well, I'm not looking for another fuck buddy. But that's not a problem at all. We're just after different things. Nice knowing you.

5) I really don't want things to be awkward with him for my friend's sake, so yesterday I sent him a message saying hi and all that jazz. He soon turned it into sex. I stood my ground and said that I wasn't interested. Well done me!

Where was I? Oh yes, Facebook and all of the joy it brings! He's been tagged in a photo with the comment saying that he's the best boyfriend. The picture is of a card he has sent his girlfriend saying how much he loves her.

First reaction was to send her a message to tell her how great her boyfriend is, especially at kissing. My second reaction was to call my best friend. She thinks that I should mess with his head. And I'm inclined to agree with her. I will start off by liking his girlfriend's photo. Then he knows that I know, and that I now know how to contact her if I wish to do so. I'll let him hang there slowly as worry and guilt consumes his cheating, pathetic little body.

Don't get mad. Get even.

All that glitters is not gold.

Bill was right.

Fit Guy from school and I have been talking for a while. None of that sexting malarky. But we both have said that sex is important. He then mentioned he hadn't had any in a while. I joked and mentioned the film Friends With Benefits. We laughed, however the more it was mentioned, the more it made sense.

I went over to his, and we both knew what I was there for. Rather than go into the living room, as we usually do, he took me straight to his bedroom. After some talking, and standing around in his bedroom in an awkward stance, he asked how this was supposed to work. I replied it was probably an idea to start kissing and then that would lead us to sex.

He's a good kisser. I'm expecting fireworks. He was also the hottest guy in school, and even an absolutely stunning friend of mine from the other side of the world has talked about how hot he is. Then again, she likes that Robert what's his face from Twilight.  Seriously though, this guy is HOT! So, we're standing kissing and his hands are under my top. They start going up extremely slowly. I know that he's trying to take my top off so I start laughing. Hot Guy looks perplexed and I have to explain to him that I know what he's trying to do and we both know why I'm there, so don't be so subtle about it. Just say "take your fucking top off" and move on. He follows my instructions to give me instructions and I end up taking my top off.

"Take your fucking jeans off" I hear. Someone is having a power trip. Hang on a second. I've got skinny jeans on and they're a bitch to take off. So, as I stumble around his bedroom trying to remove my jeans, I realise just how unsexy I look. Shame on me. This is Hot Guy. They come off, but I leave my socks on. I don't want to have cold feet. Plus, I don't care for feet. Great for walking around on though.

Lots of kissing later and he's ready for the main event. WOAH WOAH WOAH! Where's the foreplay? Shame on him! But he's Fit Guy so I let him off.

Oh my gosh! That man has all of the equipment, and more. This might be pretty good. Oh, wait. He is a man with all of the equipment, but unfortunately he hasn't read the manual. I can't quite put my finger on it. The old me would have thought gorgeous guy + very big penis = amazing sex. Maybe gorgeous people feel as though they don't have to try. But then again, Tattoo Guy is stunning, and he always gives me a 'pleasant' evening in.

When I leave, he apologises for the shit sex. Awkward. How do I respond?

a) It wasn't.
b) You're right, it was fucking awful!
c) Sorry, but do I know you?

I chose the first one.

We've spoken since, just not about sex.

What I can say about my experience with Fit Guy is that we were both quite mature and honest about the whole thing. We were not looking to ride off into the sunset together. We just wanted sex. And we got it. It hasn't ruined our friendship either.

Let's move on to Housemate Guy. I went on a date with him. It was quite nice. He said we should do it again, but I'm not sure. Nice guy but he still plays texting games and that doesn't interest me.

I prefer Scrabble

Things have been ticking along nicely. I'm still seeing Tattoo Guy, but not as often as I'd like. To be honest, when I saw him last week I wasn't too impressed. His skills had declined rapidly and when we decided to 'chill' on his sofa, I fell asleep. Probably not the 'fuck fest' we were both hoping for.

Do you believe in fate? Personally, I'm not one for it. Well, that is until Housemate Guy steps in. This is not my housemate. Just really wanted to clarify this.

A little over a month ago it was a work friend's birthday and he had decided that we should all dress up as Wally from the literary classic 'Where's Wally?' and so there I was dressed up as, well, Wally. And that's how I felt too. But I put on some heels and did my make up so at least I was a sexy Wally. If there is such a thing.

Before going to the Birthday Boy's house, I popped to another work friend's house to do some prinking (pre-drinking). I knocked on the door and a tall, good looking guy with glasses (I'm a sucker for a man in glasses) answered the door and told me where her room was.

She was doing her hair when I walked into her room. I didn't even say hello. I told her that her housemate was 'beyond fit' and that she had to hook me up with him.

So let's fast forward a few weeks. The nights are darker, the temperature has fallen and my nose is runny. As you're aware I'm on Match, and I start a conversation with a guy who's from down the road. He seems intelligent, and he's into some of the same things as me. He continues by saying that he's not actually a subscriber to Match, but gave me his name and told me to look him up on Facebook.

I did.

One mutual friend.

Oh, it's my work colleague.

Oh my gosh! It's her fit housemate!

I actually found this out whilst at work. But she was busy and I couldn't burst in on her. As soon as it was time for lunch I burst out with the news. I couldn't stop myself.

She told me that he was a lovely guy and that I should be nice to him, and not my 'maneater' self.

But is he a nice guy? Is he being a bit of a prick? Or is he playing the game? On Facebook, you can see when someone reads a message that you have sent them. I sent him a message. He read it. He replied an hour later. I repied straight away. He read it. He replied 2 hours later.

My friend told me that he's playing the game and that she did it with her current boyfriend. If she took 2 hours to respond to a text, then he took 3 hours to respond to a text message. I just do not understand this at all. How can you possibly hold a decent conversation with someone when you send them 2 messages a day?

We've been talking for over a week now, and I'm still waiting to be asked out on a date. Tick tock. Tick tock.

This is not an enjoyable game.

My very own Christian Grey

Since my last post, I have been on 3 dates with a lovely man. We met via the internet on match.com and we spoke on the phone for a few weeks beforehand. He seems like a very caring, thoughtful and well travelled guy. As he was incredibly interesting as well as having many of the same hobbies, we decided to meet up. Oh, you have your own business? OK.

Alas, my schedule is busy and I cancel on him. Twice. Oops. I decide that no matter what, on the 4th October that we will meet up and I will cancel any work commitments. I don't want him thinking that I'm not interested in him. He asks me where I would like to eat, and I'm quite happy with Nandos or another fairly normal chain with substandard food, but nevertheless, I let him decide.

"I've booked us a table at Purnell's" he says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. No jeans for me then. Best get a frock out.

We meet in Ginger's bar where there's a bottle of champagne waiting for me. So far so good. As I am given the menu I see that there are 2 options: £60 or £80. That's two weeks worth of food shopping for me. I opt for the £60 menu and he then decides on the wine; a £60 bottle of white. Well, it's no Blossom Hill, but it will have to do! We then continue on to an absolutely stunning meal at Purnell's. I have never in my life eaten such amazing food. I really cannot get over how magnificent the meal was and I'm already planning my next trip back.

We talk about music, friends, family, hobbies, favourite holiday destinations and the usual stuff.

Look at the time! We met at 7 and it's now midnight. I have to leave before my dress turns into my usual rags. As it's so late he offers to drive me home, and on the walk to his car he offers me his jacket. What a sweetheart! Financially comfortable, interesting, well travelled and now someone who gives me his coat when it's pouring down. Of course I took him up on the offer as I didn't want my hair to get ruined. And I really don't want to be the cliche girl, but as we walked over to his car, my heart did backflips.

OMG! HE HAS A MERCEDES BENZ SPORTS CAR! GIGGLE!

He drops me off at my house with a single kiss on my cheek. Perfect.

The following week he sends me a message asking to meet up after work. Bugger, I'm in my work clothes, but thankfully I have my make up at work so I can do it there. 

We head to a local bar, and I insist on paying for the drinks that came to crazy £5.50. Wait - he wants orange juice AND lemonade? He must think I'm made of money!

We eat and he buys, and we talk and talk and talk. Then he drops me off home with yet again another kiss on the cheek. I'm finding it difficult at this point to believe that there are still gentlemen out there.

Shortly after dropping me home, he calls me. He's still in his fucking amazing car, but now in traffic. He, who shall now be named Purnell's Guy, asks to see me the following day (yesterday) and I oblige.

So, now we're on date numero 3. He picks me up where I can make sure that a friend from work can see his car, and her jaw drops when she sees it. Giggle again. We decide on a Mexican place to eat and I inform him that I will be paying for the meal. We order, we eat, we talk and continue on with the normal pattern of a regular date.I ask him what he's most proud of, and he tells me about when he bought his mother a house. It makes my box of Malteasers look very grim. Sorry mother.  At the end of the meal, he yet again insists on paying. At this point, I really do feel as though I'm being bought.

We pull up outside of my house and he kisses me. Well, about time! I'm all for guys being gentlemen but sometimes you just have to kiss. It's the least you can do! We kiss for a while, and I'm a little disappointed with some stubble which is causing some pain to my lip. And this is to the point where over 12 hours later, my lip is still sore.

It gets a bit heavy and we drive to somewhere a little more secluded and somewhere with no street lights. In all honesty, we do everything but have sex. In his sports car. We talk about sex for a while. I'm quite open about it and it doesn't bother me. It's nothing to be ashamed of.

Now, I like to think that I'm a bit kinky, but I have nothing on this guy. He's a cross between Patrick Bateman and Christian Grey. He likes swingers clubs, hardcore bondage, group sex and doing a line of coke from a girl's stomach before he fucks her.

It is now at this point that I feel uncomfortable. He could have at least said these things to me later down the line rather than on date number 3. It's hardly something like him having a dog and asking if I have allergies. I would like to make it clear that I do not have allergies at this point in my life.

I also feel uncomfortable due to the finances between us. I am on 22k and he is very clearly on a hell of a lot more. I feel like I'm something to be bought, and he has even said that for my birthday he intends on taking me to London, where he now lives, take me to the theatre, buy me a gift as well as Agent Provocateur lingerie, and treat me. This would be after 3 weeks of meeting him. I'd be happy with a card.

He really is such a lovely person and we have so many things in common. However, I'm trying to weigh it up at the moment, and the scales are saying that, just like a pound of sugar, he's bad for me. I don't want to be a commodity. I left my old relationship partly because I want to be independent, and if lavishes me with gifts I might turn back into the old me.

So how was it for you?

Tattoo guy.

Oh my!

Yes please.

My bad boy aims to please, and that he does. I spent last Saturday evening with him. We had a Chinese and cuddled up on the sofa to watch X Factor. Athough 10 minutes into the show, it became obvious that he had other ideas. I had a visual clue, and took it as a hint. I took him up to bed, and well... sigh. And what an incredible kisser. In all honesty, we spent the majority of the night cuddled up and kissing. I've missed that.

Date with Science Guy was all too predictable and oh so very normal. We discussed work, and then discussed work some more, oh and then some more. Frankie Boyle was pretty good.

But let's get back to Tattoo Guy. Giggle. I think that I've made it perfectly clear that I'm very impressed by his skills. I want to see him again, but I'm so busy with work that it's hard to schedule him in. I have to see him again within a week. I don't think that I'll be able to wait much longer. He seems quite enthusiastic about seeing me too, so quite happy about that. I do smile when I think of him.

No, I will not fall for him. He's too much of a bad boy in regards to illegal activities, and that's just not cricket!

No, I will not fall for him. When he sends me messages, he doesn't use correct punctuation.

No, I will not fall for him. He wants to get more tattoos on his neck, and that just wouldn't look nice on the wedding photos.

Maybe I like him a teeny bit.

Lorra lorra laughs

They really are like buses, aren't they?

This week is a busy week; not only have I started my new and exhausting job, I also have 3 dates. I don't think that any of the dates are particularly healthy for my love life; they're more KFC than a vegetable medley.

So, let's go through these dates in a Cilla Black Blind Date way:

Date number 1:
On Wednesday I will be wined and dined by a gentleman 12 years older than me, who is originally from my part of the world, but now resides in London. A property developer with houses in Florida (one of which is his private house - probably where he maims and kills females he meets on dating websites) and he also has other businesses too.

So why isn't this one going anywhere?  1) I am intimidated by his wealth, 2) I feel like a bit of a gold digger, and finally 3) although we share a lot of the same interests, I'm just not bowled over at the minute.

Date number 2:
On Friday night I will not be wined and dined, but I will be meeting Tattoo Guy for a roll in the hay. We can all tell that this isn't the best idea, but a girl's got to have good once in a while! And with him, we both know what it's about. No emotions of love. Just sex.

Date number 3:
Science Guy is back on the scene. This will be our third date and we're off to see Frankie Boyle on Sunday night. I'm excited about this one. Alas, it is because I will be watching Frankie Boyle, not because I will be talking to Science Guy.

He's just a bit, well, wet. There's not much to him. And he certainly doesn't make me laugh. Yes, he's sweet, but he's not even sarcastic, and that is a minimum requirement. We haven't even kissed yet.

Here I am slagging him off, and knowing my luck he'll be the one who I end up marrying. God, I hope not.

Well then Cilla, I have 3 dates and none that are going anywhere, so thanks for that you ginger northerner!

Not tonight dear. I have a headache.

Last time I blogged there was a lovely young man who gave me lots of wine. Since he's been back from his holidays I have been busy with moving house and a new job, so I'm yet to see him. He wants to meet up but I find myself thinking that any free time I have, I want to spend it by myself. I'm with people all day and when I get in, I lock myself away so that even my housemate doesn't see me. Of course I eat dinner downstairs and watch a sitcom or two, but then I make up my excuses about tidying my room or working.

Bliss! I'm in my room and alone. Who needs people? I'm quite happy in my bubble, and more importantly, in silence. Even now I'm in bed (alone) and with nothing to distract me except this headache.

So, should I see lovely guy again? Yes, but not now. Peace and quiet for me. I might even get the knitting out. I do like to knit!

All in all, I think that I've turned into J.D. Salinger. I suppose there are worse people I could be like. Nick Clegg comes to mind.

Pass me a paracetamol and a glass of water. Maybe tomorrow night, sweetheart.

Mirror time

Guy from the last date is off on holiday, so I'm here 'on my tod'. It's OK. It gives me time to reflect. Yes, I like him, but do I want to start dating someone just yet? Not so sure.

Repost after deletion - Younger Guys

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

Younger Men

I went away this week to London to see a comedian. I went with a guy who I know from a job. I went with a guy who I didn't know particularly well. I went to London with him where we stayed in a hotel together.

It was all very civilised meeting up and getting the coach down. We discussed work and music and other topics that are just fine and perfectly appropriate for two adults to discuss. Well done me! This was a guy that I wasn't jumping onto like Boris Johnson jumping onto an electric bike!

Spoke too soon.

The hotel was lovely, very contemporary with nice blinds. What can I say? I like decorating. I'm currently in the market for blinds for my new house. Not sure whether to get them or curtains. Decisions!

As soon as the porter left us, this male 'friend' walked over and kissed me. Erm, OK. I wasn't expecting that. I'm sure you can figure out what happened then. Unfortunately, there was little foreplay. Important note to any guys reading this - foreplay is important. Spend time doing it. We're like a queue for a rollercoaster; we like the tease and anticipation of what's to come, ahem, and it prepares us for the ride.

The whole thing lasted 5 minutes. Don't get me wrong. I like a quickie, but that was like a bolt of lightening. Actually, that's being a bit nice. Not so much a bolt of lightening, but more of a spark when you touch a the car door. Disappointed.

This guy, who will now be Young Guy is, well, younger than me. He's the first guy who I've been with who is not my age or older. He's not a child. Just 2 and a half years younger than me. And now I know why I prefer the older male: experience. I imagined that as he was younger that he would be a bit more energetic. Well, get this guy a Red Bull because he needs it.

Maybe, sex at his age his just about sex, or as Ross Gellar calls it 'the physical act of love'. I don't think that he understands passion, which is the heart of my life at the moment. Life should be about passion whether it's a career path, hobby, or sex. It all seemed like washing the dishes, or doing the laundry. I've had enough of chore sex. It happened towards the end of my long term relationship. Sex shouldn't be something that happens with a schedule and with no passion. That's boring and not who I am whatsoever.

We continued the day with sightseeing and it was all very civil again. We got some food, went back to the hotel and got ready, saw the performance, and then made our way back to the hotel. There we sat on the sofa in our room and he started stroking my leg. Not wanting to go down the same less than mediocre route from earlier in the day, I got up and decided to put my pjs on and get ready for bed. So, on went my Mickey Mouse pjs and off came my make up. Not sexy at all now. This should put him off, right? Wrong.

We got into bed, I said goodnight and curled up. Then he curled up behind me. Awkward. Then he started stroking my leg again. And he started kissing my neck. Now, this is the thing that I really love. He's found my weakness. And he was good at it. No slobbering like a dog.

Foreplay part 2 was much better and lasted a good hour or so. But again, there was no passion. No connection with one another. Also, I think he thought that I was a fragile doll and was very gentle with me. It was, what I imagine my wedding night to be like. Screw that! We're in a hotel, we've been drinking. I'd like something rougher please! 50 Shades has nothing on me, and he's more like a Mr Men book - safe and predictable. Guess what Mr Happy is like. Happy.

It was coming up that sex was on the cards. And that's when he said something that changed it. He didn't like to use condoms and it puts him off. That's when I told him that I wouldn't have sex without one. No STDs or babies for me thank you! So, we stopped.

The next morning he woke me up by spooning me. I looked at the time. It's 7am, and the alarm is set for 8.30. In my subtle style I tell him to go back to his side of the bed and leave me to sleep. No one messes with my sleep!

Thirty minutes later, he's back cuddling me. I get up and get ready for day 2 of sightseeing. I'm not interested. The day was a normal day of sightseeing. We went to the Damien Hirst exhibition which was fantastic. Very impressed.

Then on the coach on the way home he decided to stroke my leg again. At this point I really don't know how to react. What does he want from me? I think stroking a leg like that was a bit boyfriend/girlfriend. It was affectionate, not what happens in London, stays in London.

I decide that the best way to get him off my back is to tell him about what's going on in my life at the moment. I'm not after flowers, I'm after a good fuck! Sorry, that sounds so crude. I did question myself to a friend and asked what's wrong with me. The reply was that I'm making up for lost time.

I told him about me seeing guys, and his hand moved away from my leg straight away. Success. He looked at me in a strange way, almost as though if I had said that I loved slavery and black people should still work for the whiteys.

From looking at his expression, I questioned myself again. Looking back on my blogs I have been seeing quie a few people, haven't I? Am I a slag? I remember what my friend has said about making up for lost time, and I feel a little better. I try and convince myself by thinking about the people who I have slept with. My number is well below double figures, and I've never met a guy in a club/bar and had a one night stand. I've always known the guy for a while and then it turns into something. Younger Guy is a bit of an exception as we barely knew each other beforehand, but we still did know to an extent. And with each guy, apart from this one, there has ALWAYS been passion. There's that word again. So, it's not like I'm doing it for the sake of doing it.

We discussed where I was, and what's going on with him. I ended up giving him relationship and sex advice. And just like that our relationship changed. We had, within 48 hours, started off as work colleagues, awkward sex partners, tourists, nearly sex partners again, tourists, and then friends who can openly discuss sex. Like I said to him, sex is just sex. It's natural and shouldn't be taboo. I'm finding that that I don't mind discussing it anymore now that I'm single. It was already quite Sex and the City before in regards to talking with a few of my girlfriends, but now I know that it shouldn't be a subject that is locked away and only comes out with cocktails. How very liberal of me!

Roulette and wine

Well, what can I say? There I was saying that I wanted to be single and I enjoyed seeing different guys. Nothing special. I just wanted to have fun.

I should explain. Last night I had an amazing night with a guy who's a friend of a friend. I was a bit dubious about the whole thing at the start, but really glad I did it. No, I didn't have explosive sex, but I did go on a very lovely date. It's probably the best first date that I've ever been on.

This guy is my age, and is a heating engineer. He dresses well and enjoys fashion. He even owns some Westwood. No Primark for him. We met about a month ago when I was out drinking with a friend and he was in the same bar. I didn't really think much of it at the time, even though he had told my friend that he liked me. Saying that we did end up kissing. Just some harmless flirting and some clean conversations via twitter.

Apart from a few things such as liking a football team that are scum, some music taste and that he owns a onesie, he comes across as quite sweet. My friend keeps telling me that he's a good guy, so we arrange a date.

We decide on the Mailbox and say that we'll meet at the front at 8. So, what should I wear? I opt for a pretty dress and heels. I'm on time getting ready. Bravo me. DRAMA! I cant find my handbag that would look really cute with the dress. After spending 10 minutes searching for it, I opt for another one. I'm still on time. Phew!

I'm about to get a lift into King's Heath where I'll jump, not literally, on a bus. However, as soon as I walk out of the house I notice that my brand new tights have make up on them. I rush back into the house and change them. Crisis averted.

I make it onto the bus where I cross my legs. I look down and see a ladder in my tights. Why do bad things happen to good people? There's no way that I could possibly go on a date with a ladder in my tights. What's the time? It's 7.57 as I get off the bus. I'm really not going to make it to the Mailbox for 8, especially as I decide to run to New Look and purchase some new tights. They're locking the door as I approach, but show mercy on me and let me in. £2.99 and a trip to the toilets on the theird floor of the Bullring later, I send him a message saying that I'm running late. Thankfully he is too, and I meet him at New Street station.

We walk to the Mailbox, and we're having the normal first date chat. We discuss our mutual friend, and how he's jealous of my holidays that I get through work. Our table for Strada is booked for 9, so we go to a bar and get a drink. I get a large glass of white wine that he refuses to let me pay for. So far I like!

We head to Strada and I'm already feeling a little tipsy. I must compose myself. I knew I shouldn't have ordered the wine. The waitress comes over and asks what I would like to drink. Wine please. There I go again.

Along with my mushroom risotto, I also enjoyed talking to him. It wasn't like the other dates I've been on. We had so many of the 'and me too' moments in our discussions that I was thinking at the time that I quite like this guy. He paid for the meal. Actually, I did it for him; he needed the bathroom and gave me his pin number. Very trusting of him, especially as he said how an ex got a lot of money from him.

We head to another place in and two white wines later we discuss gambling. I have a little problem when it comes to roulette. The problem is that I'm awful with the game and I've lost quite a bit of money from it, yet I find myself loving it. He enjoys roulette too and is off to Vegas next week, so in my completely drunken state I say that we should go to a casino. Part of this is because I love casinos, and also because it was one of those dates where you just don't want it to end and time doesn't exist in casinos, just flashing lights and racing hearts.

Yet again he buys me another wine, and I get out £50 to bet. I was up for a while and then I was down. However, he was up and left the table when he was up. Clever guy.

We're both out and leave the casino at 5am. We get a black cab and we just couldn't keep our hands off each other. I've kissed a lot of guys since my young days in Ramshackles, and I have to say (there's a gun to my head) that he's a bloody good kisser. I'm finding myself writing this just smiling and thinking about when I can kiss those lips again.

I wake up this morning with a smile on my face and a sore head. My sore head disappeared throughout the day, but the smile has remained.

25 words

So, I went around to the tattoo guy's house. 1 word with 5 syllables - animalistic. We'll be seeing each other again as soon as possible.

Bits and Bobs

Sorry that it's all been a bit quiet lately. Nothing too thrilling going on. At the moment it's all about second dates. Pilot Guy and Science Guy have asked me to go on second dates, so tomorrow I'm seeing Science Guy. We're off to get tapas. Now, I know what you're thinking. Why am I going on a date with him when I wasn't overly fussed last time? In all honesty, I think I'm bored. And I'd like to give him a second chance. I'm on Skype with him right now and he's having a bean salad. Little does he know that I'm writing this about him. Poor sod. 

I did go out with a male friend on Monday. I know him from school. We had a tiny thing when we were in college, and as he was known throughout the years as The Hottest Guy in the School, people applauded me when they found out. Even the cow who bullied me in year 7 said ‘well done’ for getting with him. We met up, he paid for a taxi to get across the city to my favourite restaurant. We had a lovely meal and catch up. He really is a darling! And then we went to the cinema and watched the Amazing Spiderman. And in all honesty, I don’t think the film lived up to its name. There was a Spiderman, alas, he was not amazing.

I don’t think you really understand how hot this guy is. I spoke to my best friend the following day and just giggled down the phone to her. I mean, he’s hot on his Facebook, but oh my gosh, in person this guy could be a model. And he gives really lovely cuddles. Giggle, giggle, giggle and so on and so forth.

So, who else is there? Oh guess who made a return today! That’s right – Lawyer Guy! He’s back in the city for a wedding and last minute this afternoon before he returns to the Lawyer Land of Cardiff, we decided to go to the cinema. On the way there conversation was once again polite. However, on the way back he decided to bring up his ex. Again. He started it by saying ‘I really like spending time with you *insert name here* and I think you’re really gorgeous and intelligent, but I thought that me and *insert ex’s name here* would get back together’. 

So…your point is what exactly? 

He even asked me for my advice. It seems that she has moved on and he’s too scared to start over again as a single man. I told him he needed to speak to her and blah blah blah. Why is he asking me for advice? 

He dropped me off, and I left the car without a kiss or a cuddle, but did tell him to call me if he wanted to speak. I am now an agony aunt which has pretty much been my role throughout my life with friends. I don’t mind it, but I don’t like it when he feels the need to say I’m this and I’m that. It will not break my heart if he’s not interested in me. You do not have to flatter me. I think that this man is just highly confused anyway. Nothing he said made much sense and he wasn’t really succinct. 

There is a new guy on the horizon…

NEW GUY ALERT! NEW GUY ALERT! NEW GUY ALERT! 

He used to work in a shop close to where my mother works and so I know him like that. We started with messages on Facebook, and now it’s turned into extremely naughty text messages. And I don’t mean leaving the milk out of the fridge overnight. Although, there’s nothing worse than warm milk. Eurgh!

The problem with this guy – Tattoo Guy – is that I know that he’s a complete and utter player. I don’t want to be just another notch on his bedpost. Hmm, where did that saying come from? 

(Looking for the origin of the phrase)

Well, I can’t find that. Anyway, I digress.

I’m really not that kind of girl. I’m really lovely. And modest too. But I don’t want him to think of me like that, which he will because that’s what he’s like. But then again, I mentioned to someone on Facebook about what he’s like reputation wise, and it was pointed out that it’s not such a bad thing.

Maybe that’s what I need. I just need a really good fuck buddy. How very American! He has offered his services and I shall be meeting him at some point this week. Not quite sure if it’ll be at his or not.

Apologies for this blog. It’s all a bit messy and unstructured, and it’s a bit of a catch up blog as I’ve not been online for a while.

Let’s see where this week takes us!

Also, this song reminds me so much of Maths Boy. Enjoy!

My Shopping List

What a bloomin’ marvellous day weather wise. My shoulders are burnt and my freckles have appeared on my face. They’re just begging me to do a dot to dot on them. I wonder what image I could find. I have so many of them, I could probably get The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli on there. By the way, this is not just a random art reference. It’s one of my favourite pieces and illustrates how fucking horrible it is to suffer with sleep paralysis. That shit is not fun!

Dates with science teachers aren’t particularly fun either. That sounds quite mean. There was nothing especially that was wrong with it. It was all very average. We spoke about average things; films, music, travelling. But there was just no spark. Similar to Pilot Guy. Don’t get me wrong, Science Guy is a perfectly lovely person who has travelled extensively, so he is interesting. 

Ha! He’s just text me whilst writing this. His normal and not particularly amazing ears must be burning.

Had a lovely day, really enjoyed it! If you’d like to do something again maybe next week then let me know.

What do I reply?

Hi there. Yes it was quite mediocre wasn’t it? And as much as I’d love to meet up with you again, I find myself thinking that I want someone who I like more than you. My expectations are quite high, and unfortunately, you don’t make the mark.

That sounds harsh, but with this whole dating experiment, particularly with recording everything online, I’m starting to do some reflection. I think I’ve realised that I do have high expectations of partners. I have a checklist.

Participants must:

• Be funny.
• Have gorgeous eyes. I’m not massively into looks. I hope I’m not that shallow, although I can probably deep down say that on some level I am. I’m not asking for Brad Pitt. I just want nice eyes.
• Be intelligent.
• Must want to travel.
• Must accept my slightly weird ways.
• Accept my career, especially this year which will no doubt be crazy.
• Give fantastic cuddles and give soft lingering kisses.
• Realise that my body does have cellulite and stretch marks, and I am (to an extent) OK with that. It’s taken me a while to get to this stage, and the last thing I need is a man expecting me to look like Elle Macpherson. That’s not to say I don’t look after myself though. Apart from the odd boozy night, I do try and eat well and go to the gym.
• Understand that I’ll always put my mates first. I know that sounds like everyone says that, but I really mean it. Guys come and go, and my mates are here to stay. Girl power again. If a friend told me that she didn’t like a guy (for a good reason) then au revoir guy.
• Be creative.
• Care about his appearance. I’m not asking to get your back, sack and crack done. Just iron your shirts and do your hair. And shower.
• Be vocal. I like to talk, and I like someone who can talk back and not just sit there listening to me waffle on. Although, I do need a good listener too.
• Have some confidence. Not cockiness or arrogance.
• Be a good friend and son/brother/nephew. I love my family, and they’re pretty important to me when they’re not pissing me off.
• Be damn good in bed.
• Not be a chav.
• Realise that there’s more to life than football.
• Not be alcoholics. I don’t mind if they’re an occasional user of substances, although, nothing too bad. Maybe just a smoke or something.
• Not keep discussing their ex with me. Lawyer Guy comes to mind here.
• Be able to send text messages without using ‘lol’. It really irritates me.
• Have a decent standard of literacy and overall education. I prefer those who have been to university.
• Be active.
• Be older than me. I’ve never dated anyone younger than me. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s just weird.
• Have common interests in regards to music and film. Not completely, but enough so we can go to gigs and the cinema together.
• Understand that I have a sick and sarcastic sense of humour.
• Get along with my family and friends.
• Must wake me up with some spooning, a kiss on my neck and poached eggs on toast.
• Argue and debate with me. Some men are such people pleasers and need to grow a pair.

Erm… I think that’s it. Damn, that’s a lot. What’s wrong with me? No guy can do all of this. Well, I’m sure a few guys can, but where am I going to find him? I’m looking for my Prince Charming, but instead of living in a cartoon, I’m in the Midlands. The best I can hope for isn’t a prince with a bouquet, but a drunk with a kebab.  

Aliens and a possible ice cream.

So what’s been going on in my life then? Well, I’ve just made a cup of tea with two bags and now it’s incredibly strong. Cough cough.

Last night I went around a male friend’s house and we drank beer, ate pizza and watched Independence Day. It was the first time I had ever seen it, but unfortunately I was unable to enjoy the alien spectacle as he was constantly saying lines before they had happened, telling me that there is a Baldwin brother in the film (I proved him wrong – thank you IMDB) and kept saying “I love this part coming up. … happens”.  He can’t help it. His job requires a lot of talking and getting rid of any silence. I’ll get the film on DVD. And yes, I was incredibly ashamed of myself for not seeing it. It’s actually pretty funny and very cliché.I predicted the whole thing. Well done me.

It was nice just to hang out with a guy again. Nothing will happen with this guy, and he is just a friend. See, I don’t just date men. I can be friends with them too!

Saying that, I have a date this afternoon.

What do I know about this one who I’ve virtually met on a dating site?

• Head of Science
• Mountain climber
• Originally from near Liverpool

Usually I’d say no to all of the above. I mean, science? Really? I imagine if we ever get closer and he gets to see, well you know, my bits, he’ll just see this –

And I’m not much of a mountain climber. No, I’d rather walk in heels. And the Liverpool thing speaks for itself with its twangy accent. I love northern accents, except this one.

But screw it. You never know. He could be the Homer to my Marge. Not the best example, I know.

So the plans are go to the local park with a bottle of Strongbow. Joking. No Strongbow. The weather is so lovely that we have decided to go to Cannon Hill Park, which I thinks quite nice. It’ll give us a chance to talk, but God damn it! I want to go bowling.

I’m not sure what it is about bowling that I love so much. Let’s face it. I’m fucking awful at the game. I rarely played it as child, so I can’t say it brings back childhood memories. And it’s expensive to throw a ball down a lane. But it’s enjoyable.

Me and Maths Boy (remember him?) had a day at Star City playing miniature golf and bowling. I won at the golf (fuck yes – now that’s what I’m talking about). However, fortune didn’t favour me with the bowling. I did get to do the whole girly thing though where I pouted and pretended to cry. He took pity on me, and bought me lunch at Harvester. You have to love their Kickin’ Garlic sauce. Although, not on a date.   

Anyway, I’m off to get ready to walk around a park and hopefully get an ice cream if the queue isn’t too ridiculous.

Toodle pip!

Channing Tatum

I've just returned from the cinema where I watched Magic Mike. I've decided that I need my brother to become a stripper so I can meet and fall in love with Channing Tatum. This will also be done with some bad acting, but will contain scenes with nudity and adult content.

Fed up of nice.

Well, today I went on a date with Pilot Guy. We met in the city centre and it all felt a little awkward. Not entirely sure why, but it did.

We went to over to the Mailbox and I bought us a lovely lunch in a restaurant that I can’t pronounce. That’s how fancy it was! I was stuffed after the chorizo pate, and then I soldiered on to the mushroom pasta dish. It was a little bland, but nothing that a bit of pepper can’t sort out.

He didn’t want me to pay, but he did come up from London and has had hardly any sleep. The least I could do was buy him a 2 course meal. Plus, it was only £27 for the two of us. I might take all of my dates there! Music was quite nice too.

Being a media fanatic, I insisted that we went to BBC Birmingham so I could get resources for my new job. I’m so romantic! Not only did I insist on that, but then I ended up talking to the guy in the shop about the tours they do for schools and about Ben Rich’s eyebrows. By the way, Ben Rich is the local weatherman, and I’m currently conversing with him on Twitter about facial hair.

Oh dear, Pilot Guy is just standing there. Time to make a move. I suggested that we went to the museum as there’s a new Egypt exhibition. Together, like school children, we sat on the bench to watch the 2 minute introductory video which describes the upper and lower kingdoms. Sitting side by side, I really did feel like a kid. Shall I hold his hand? No. Exhibition was lovely, and we even wrote our names in hieroglyphics.

Right, what shall we do now? Cinema? Yes, that’s cliché. We’ll do that. We could go and see a nice romantic comedy, or the latest blockbuster. He let’s me decide. Time is running out and we’re nearing the front of the queue. What do I pick? All of a sudden in the corner of my eye I see a film called Killer Joe. I’ve not heard of this one. It’s certified as an 18. Well, now I’m intrigued. It takes a lot to be certified an 18, and I rarely see them. What could possibly make this film an 18? Curiosity gets the better of me and we opt for that film.

Opening scenes include a stepmother who shows her…erm…how do I put this? Her vagina to her stepson. And then the stepson dreams about his sister being naked. Son and father go to a strip club and obviously there are more scenes of nudity there. Well done me. I’ve just picked the most inappropriate film for a first date. We’ve not even held hands. Although earlier in the day he mentioned fingering and I laughed quite loudly, despite the context being about playing an instrument. Mature.

Pilot Guy then gave me a lift home. Here it goes, we’re going to kiss. Oh, actually we’re not. Just a hug.

A lovely date, and he’s a nice guy, but not entirely sure with this one. As Jay-Z would say…

Just say no!

Wow. I’m getting through men like a 12 pack of Quavers! And I like Quavers. The last post mentioned how I’ve joined an online dating website. And what do we have here? Yes, I have a date with a guy on Tuesday.

Now, what possible nickname could I give this one? Well as he’s a helicopter pilot I think I’m going to go for Pilot Guy. He sent me a message, I sent him a message and this pattern continued for a whole evening. A sarcastic individual who is highly intelligent then asked to call me. We spoke for nearly 3 hours on the phone about anything and everything. This included him asking to take me on a date. Only issue with this particular individual is that he lives in London, and due to his job (he’s in the Navy) he’s not exactly on my doorstep or always available.

A few initial thoughts:

• I hope he’s been taught to duck as he approaches the helicopter.
• I remember learning about morphology and that the ‘pt’ refers to wings. Another example would be pterodactyl.
• Christian Gray can also fly a helicopter. Hmm…

Yes, he’s always away and today is no exception. He’s currently in the south of France and today visited St Tropez. And it was this afternoon that he sent me this text message:

Made it to St Tropez for lunch today; it was an absolutely fantastic place. If I wasn’t looking forward to seeing you so much I don’t think I’d want to leave here on Monday.

Ahhhhhh! How sweet is that?

Now, I feel like I have a lot to live up to. No pressure on me. Sigh. I’m arranging the day’s activities and need to find somewhere to eat. He likes country pubs, but we’re going to somewhere where there aren’t any. Need somewhere else. Oh the pressure! I can’t take it anymore!

Let’s move on, shall we? Last night I went out with a friend who I haven’t seen in a while. We were dancing and then I felt a hand from behind come around my waist. I had a quick look around. Yeah, he’s quite fit. He’ll do! There was some kissing and then I walked away to the bar. How very liberating! Girl power and all that jazz. It really was one of those evenings. My friend needed the toilet, and so did I. Luckily, you don’t have to pay at this one. I’m still holding a grudge with New Street station. I go into the cubicle and she comes in too. What? I’ve not shared a cubicle with a female friend since I was about 20. I’d forgotten that I used to that. Girl power…eh?

After copious amounts of cocktails, shots, lager and vodka, my friend and I became separated. Not a problem, I need some air as this vodka is making me a little woozy. And I’m sure the vodka had an impact on the actions of my tongue.

Then I heard a voice. “I know you. Your name is (insert real name here)”. Who the hell was this? My eyesight wasn’t great, but I knew that I had never met this man before. “We got talking online about Detroit Social Club”. He was correct. A man from Tamworth who I had spoken to about a band on a Facebook page, this guy remembered my name and what I looked like. I find this a bit odd. He told me that he had seen me earlier in the night, but kept his distance. He also told me that he was watching me to make sure that I was OK, so that if I got into trouble he could look after me as he ‘knows me’. I find this all a bit stalkerish.

I gave him my number, and I have no idea why. And then I stumbled home and threw up in my front garden. It has definitely been a long time since I’ve thrown up because of alcohol. Not my proudest moment. Yet, at the same time I was thinking that it was material for this blog. I’m always thinking about you, my dear reader.

As soon as I’d left the pub I received a text from the DSC fan. Here’s how it went:

2.43 Hey good to meet u. You ok?

2.44 Detroit social club fan?

2.47 You know it

2.47 You have a good memory.

2.56 You home OK?

2.58 Just got in

3.07 Fancy meeting sumtime

So, here we are having an thorough and deep conversation, and he asks me out. Firstly, I find that as we’ve only just started talking, and not to a great standard, that he’s asking me out. Secondly, it’s really annoying me that he’s shortening words and did not use a question mark on the last text message. It requires a question mark, God damn you! It continues with getting the your and you’re wrong and lack of punctuation. I am copying this down exactly as it was sent to me.

3.39 Hope your ok didnt mean to spook you seen you earlier in the night but didnt have the whatsits to say hello lol

9.31 How the head? Lol

14.29 You not talking now?

A couple of things here to observe. I hate ‘lol’. People use it and they’re hardly smiling and/or the comment said was not humorous. How the hell can they possibly be laughing out loud? Argh!

Another thing is that he has text me 4 times in a row and I didn’t reply. Take the hint maybe?

I feel sorry for him and we send messages about the previous night. Then all of a sudden, my phone starts lighting up with his number. 5 minutes later I have 3 missed calls from him. He then sends me a message asking to talk to me for 10 minutes. I oblige. I’m such a nice person.

Detroit Social Club Guy calls me and we discuss work and football amongst some very mediocre and boring topics. I add fillers in such as ‘hmm’, ‘yeah’ and ‘cool’. He picks up on this and asks if I’m boring him. And then it comes…

“Do you want to go for a drink sometime?” he asks.

Oh shit. He’s put me on the spot. Just say no. Say no.

“Yeah, that would be nice”.

You fucking idiot! Why can’t I say no? I’ve noticed that since I’ve been single, everyone who has asked me out I’ve said yes. Why? Because I’m too nice and I don’t like to say no. This is a word that I need to learn. Actually, it’s not just a word – it’s a skill. I need to understand that although they will feel rejected for 0.5 seconds, it’s better than going out with them for the sake of it. I get nothing from it, apart from a free dinner and a drink.

I’m also in early negotiations with a science teacher who lives fairly locally. We’ll see where that one goes. He’s a red head and I am partial to ginger guys. My ex from when I was 17 was ginger. He was a man who loved the ladies. And that was certainly true as I found out that he was engaged when I was dating him. But still, he was sexy as fuck. Pity he was a dickhead too.

And he links in with Pilot Guy as that particular ex was also in the navy.

Things to take away from this blog:

• Do not drink shots of vodka. It will only end up coming back out of your mouth and landing in your front garden.
• I must learn how to say no.
• Damn, I’m putting weight on from eating out with guys so much. Why can’t they invite me around and make me a salad?