The Lawyer Guy Date!

I’m in an English lesson and the cover work is silent reading. I’ve already given out one detention. Not silent enough. Don’t mess with me!

Sorry that it’s been a while. I’ve been very busy and preoccupied. I wish I could say that this stems from extremely romantic encounters including walks on the beach and other clichés. Unfortunately, I’m just too tired from work.

I’m guessing that you don’t really care about how sleepy I am after a day of yelling at 11-16 year olds, are you? I’ll tell you about Lawyer Guy instead then.

Disastrous.

Actually, that is a little unfair. It wasn’t that bad. It all started last Saturday – cue the harp music and flashback*. I decided to get my Dad’s father’s day gift, so like Columbus I set sail for an adventure. I trekked through the treacherous terrain and fought wilder beasts. Just another day in Birmingham.

After a couple of hours I decided to get the train home. Probably more Dora the explorer rather than Columbus. 2 trains were cancelled. Woe is me. At this point I was late for a very important date! I still had to go home and get changed. Annoyed by this, I moaned with the woman at the train station. An elderly lady who had lived in Canada during the 70s, Sylvia kindly offered to give me a lift home from the train station. Maybe I won’t be late after all.

No, I’m still running late. I text Lawyer Guy and there, at my castle a prince arrived on his gallant steed. Or Lawyer Guy cam in his blue car to pick me up. I would say what kind of car but I have no idea.

The ride to his house was awkward. Although the conversation was decent, because he was driving he was unable to maintain eye contact. Not only that, he had the rugby game on the radio and I think was a little more interested in that.

We arrived at his mother’s castle. A 4 bedroom detached house with a quaint garden and family photographs decorated the walls.

A cup of tea? Oh yes please! 2 sugars. Wait. Why has he only put one sugar in? Is he implying that I’m fat? I know I’m curvy, but still. Female instinct comes into play; I could lose a few lbs, but I like the idea that men like something to hold onto. My taste buds also approve of this.

Right, time to leave his house and get some food. Yes, OK, put something in the garage. Oops, you’ve just bumped your head on the door. Time to walk. Oops, you’ve forgotten your wallet. Time to walk back to the house. What an adventure!

We talked about normal stuff; holidays, how he particularly looks like Joe Thomas, and how it took him two times to pass both his theory and his practical driving tests. Dinner and drinks were mediocre. Nothing particularly special to report there.

Although, sitting there with my white wine, and him with his Guinness, I fell the urge to pounce on him. I didn’t, but he just looked so bloody lovely! Sorry, it’s not my intention to go all 50 Shade of Grey on you.

We leave Solihull to make our way to the second part of this date – seeing Blink 1821 at the NEC.

Going through New Street station, I had to do something that I always find a little strange to do on a first date – admit that I need the toilet. I searched in my bad for 30p. This is now the price of a tinkle. Lawyer Guy gives me 10p towards it, in which I reply “I do not need you to pay for me to urinate’.  I think that this is what Beyonce means when she says independent women.

The train was packed. We had to stand up. Pretty close too. He smells quite nice. I actually think that I quite like this one. Oh no, there it is again. The urge to pounce.

Walking from the train station to the NEC, I boldly said “I really want to kiss you”. I did this for 2 reasons:

1)      It’s true

2)      I’m usually quite confident and initiate that myself. I’ve always been the person to wear the trousers, so to speak. However, I was nervous and wanted the ball to be in his court.

“I want to kiss you too”. Giggle.

“As we can’t just stop and kiss, I’m going to hold your hand”. And once more, the trousers were on.

Once in the NEC, being the man of the relationship (I also ordered the food at the restaurant), I bought the drinks. £20 for 6 bottles of Smirnoff Ice. Tut. I better get drunk!

We’re a little early and decided to sit down. As soon as we do, he leans over and kisses me slowly. It was…erm…nice. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good kiss, but still a bit of an anti climax. I’m a bit like Phoebe in Friends. I just want the perfect kiss. Where’s my Joey?

Blink 182 were fab and brought me back to my school and college dats. Lawyer Guy puts his arm around me and then all of a sudden they start performing First Date. Ah cute.

I won’t go through the track list. Mainly because I’ve forgotten it. I will say that I want to marry Travis Barker after he did his drum solos.

The gig finishes and we head home. From New Street we decide to walk home. I decided that the safest route was the 50 bus route. And from there we walked hand in hand into the sunset (up Digbeth as people were getting kicked out of the Dubliner). We talked about loads of things, again nothing too interesting. However, it was around the time we just hit the Ceol Castle that he started talking about his ex. Seriously?! He was telling me about the situation and how he’s feeling. This is not good date material.

As soon as we hit King’s Heath, I make a run for it and tell him that my feet are hurting and I need to get a taxi. He suggests that we split the taxi fare. Really? I bought a £20 round of drinks, and it’s a first date and you think we should split the taxi fare. I like to think that I’m the Beyonce ‘I can pay to go to the toilet’ kinda gal, but I think I like some of that old romance too, like the guy paying for the taxi. Is that too much to ask?

We pull up outside of my house and I wish him a good night and a very quick kiss. We’ve been texting, but I’m not actually that fussed anymore.

The search continues.

a2 + b2 = rebound?

Firstly, I am currently invigilating a GCSE mathematics exam, and I’m writing this on a piece of kitchen paper which was given to me to clean the white board at the end. This was given to me by a male member of staff. It seems that I look like a Stepford wife. Nice to see that stereotypes still exist.

However, we are not here to read about that. No, we want gossip. Let’s crack on!

Last night I went for a very platonic dinner with my future housemate, who we shall call PE guy as, well, he’s a PE teacher. During dinner Hot Tub guy sent me a text message asking what I was up to. I told him. I’m yet to receive a message back nearly 24 hours later.

I also received a message from Lawyer guy who asked if he could phone me at half 8. I read this at 8.15 and was still stuffing food into my mouth, so I postponed it.

Eventually I made it home and he called me. We spoke for 2 hours and 5 minutes. That’s quite a long time. We spoke about work; he specifically works for a homeless charity and helps homeless people do…erm…stuff. I was impressed when he told me that he only earns a little more than a newly qualified teacher. He said that he could have gone down the route in which he would make silly money, but he likes that his job is very moral, despite it being based in law.

We then went on to speak about why he mentioned his ex a few times. In my brash manner, I was the one to bring it up. He had said that he had taken her to the airport. I’d like to be on good terms with my ex, but even then I doubt he would take me to the airport. He owns the house and car with her, and they’re sharing them at the moment.  He’s newly single which then makes me question myself. I am the rebound? I supposed Maths Guy was my rebound. Then again, once you fall off a horse you should get back on it. I’m sure there’s a nicer way of phrasing that.

Continuing on with the conversation (don’t worry, I won’t transcribe it for you) he said that he was really happy that we’re back in contact because I’m really ‘pretty’ and ‘intelligent’. That was a nice little ego boost for me. Ta hun! Pretty? I’ll have to cover that spot on my cheek pretty well on Saturday if I don’t want to shatter his illusions. It’s massive, and it won’t bloody go!

From what I can remember of him (not to mention some light Facebook stalking) he’s quite the pretty boy. This isn’t really my type. Then again, I don’t think I have a type. Let’s explore:

The Ex:

Funny

Intelligent

Maths Guy:

Intelligent

John Rocha saucepans

Dreadlock Guy (unofficial, but if I hadn’t known him before, then I probably would be interested):

Intelligent

Charismatic

Hot Tub Guy:

Rock and roll (his body is covered in tattoos of gravestones and band logos)

Intelligent

Lawyer Guy:

A good conversationalist

Intelligent

So, it appears that I do have type. Intelligence seems quite important to me.

Anyway, back to the pretty boy thing. I’ve always found that pretty boys are quite arrogant and have the ‘fit but don’t you just know it?’ syndrome. Therefore, I tend to steer away from them. Not only do they seem full of themselves, they probably expect me to look like a Hollyoaks girl, and no doubt they spend longer getting ready than I do. And as my closest friends know, that’s a long time. About the same time that I spent on the phone with Lawyer Guy.  

We’ve been texting in quite a flirtatious manner; lots of innuendos. It brings me back to being 14, although when I was 14 I didn’t actually understand the innuendos. Dating wasn’t a big thing when I was 14. Of course I had a thing for boy bands with their curtain hairstyles (Ben Adams, I’m looking at you) but that was it.

At 14 we were not allowed to even wear make up to school. I remember once I wore some clear mascara. I should say that clear mascara does absolutely nothing to your eyelashes, yet I was petrified of the hard hitting, make you cry in 5 seconds, sarcastic Deputy Head. He never noticed. I had won that battle.

But secondary school girls now look like they’re ready to fall out of a nightclub at 3am whilst a guy they’ve only just met is ‘protecting them from the cold’. This means that they’re actually trying to get a feel of the padded bra.

I feel quite sorry for the girls. How times have changed! I just couldn’t be bothered to make that much effort for school or college with make up. Who am I kidding? I couldn’t be bothered with the education either! Sure did have to make up for a lot of those lost years! I did manage my C grade in maths. I was told it would be the end of the world if I didn’t have that squiggle on my EdExcel certificate.

And that links in nicely to the end of this blog, as I am in a maths exam, and I have run out of kitchen paper. So, a Jerry Springer ‘final thoughts’ type moment: I think I’m a rebound and remember to wear sunscreen.

My first blog

Huzzah! I've returned to the world of blogging. It's been a while. 3 years ago I was blogging about Americans who thought that the UK was pronounced 'uck'. I would say that times have changed, but I doubt it has.

So, what has been happening in my exciting life? A few things that I won't bore you with. That and I don't really want people I know to be reading this blog. In regards to that, I intend to make this blog very open and honest. An online diary if you will.

I am newly single after 8 years in a lovely relationship. Looking back, I know that he was a great guy. He did anything and everything I asked him to. He was romantic and extremely thoughtful. Why did I leave him? Well, it wasn't right for me at the time. I'm still fairly young, and I've always been in a relationship since I was around the age of 16. Whilst my friends were going out in their early twenties and having 'fuck buddies', I was making dinner and moaning at my ex who would take his contact lenses out whilst in bed and would continue to put them on the side and not in the bin. How very normal.

Don't get wrong. I'm not looking to go out and be a whore. In fact, I just want to be single. However, I have this thing where I like to be accepted and loved. I grew up in a very loving household. My parents would always give me cuddles and tell me that they loved me. So now that I've thrown that away with my ex, I feel desperate to get that back, even though I don't want it.

About 3 weeks after leaving my ex, I met Maths boy. A maths teacher who lives locally, owns John Rocha saucepans, is athletic and lives in a beautiful apartment in my favourite area of the city. We met on a night out, and hit it off. A fellow educator who had climbed the ranks very quickly in his young years.

I should have been impressed, right? I think you know what's coming. No, I wasn't. A people pleaser who laughed at my unfunny jokes (I even threw in some awful ones just to check) and was a very sloppy kisser to the point that half of my make up was removed after he slobbered on my face. Without being too graphic, this was also the case in the bedroom. I went there and will never go back.

At the same time, although completely disastrous (he decided to pick me up and push me to the wall in which he managed to bang my head and I had to sit down for a while as he fetched me a glass of water) it was still an accomplishment. My first encounter after an 8 year relationship. I wasn't particularly proud of it, but I was now a woman of the world. Well done me.

Being the sweetheart that I am, I decided to go on a couple more dates with him so he didn't blame his ability in the boudoir. Since then there have been a few texts including discussing plans for half term and me and my oh so busy schedule.

Let's move on to Highway Agency guy who has a hot tub (well, at his parents) and therefore should now be known as Hot Tub Guy. I worked with him at a pub when I was 18. We once kissed in his car then he told me straight away that he didn't really want to see me again. Oh, thanks for that! He has recently split from his fiancé of 8 years and asked me to go out for a drink, as a friend. Now, I'm always dubious when male friends feel the need to add 'as a friend'. As I have numerous male friends, you always know that when they say 'as a friend' they actually mean go on a date.

On a very mediocre evening out with some ex-colleagues, I became bored. What's this? A text message from Hot Tub Guy? Of course I'll meet you for a drink up town. A taxi ride later I walk into a bar in town to see a guy who I went to college with you has dreadlocks. A brilliant and extremely bright individual who I really got on with and who I tend to see in the local pub every Christmas eve. A lovely surprise that he is really good friends with Hot Tub Guy. The three of us and a few others continued on to a heavy metal evening in which I was wearing inappropriate clothing for.

Dreadlock Guy and I were sitting down for a while where he tried to kiss me. I moved away and laughed thinking that it was a joke. It wasn't as he continued to try. Scared of losing an old friend I decided to make this into a joke. Knowing that he had tried a bit too hard and that I wasn't interested, he apologised and continued to tell me that Hot Tub Guy liked me. Impressed that I had 2 guys interested, I felt humbled and quite embarrassed. I wasn't used to this. I was used to putting used contact lenses in the bin.

Dreadlock Guy left the club with his tail between his legs as I continued to speak to Hot Tub Guy. Leaving the club at 5am in a taxi with him, he dropped me off home and then text me saying that he regretted not kissing me at the end of the night/early morning. Bless him. That's quite nice.

He asked me to his parents’ house as they were away. Now, although I still live with my parents, I don't like that he still lives with his. He's a couple of years older than me and so I think he should really have his own place by now.

The weather was lovely, and he asked me to bring my bikini. I did, and we ended up in the hot tub after a lovely dinner. We did not have sex, but lots of kissing. I felt as though I was 16 again. I think that was the last time that I had kissed someone for that long.

A few dates later and I feel that I have to have sex with him. He's a nice guy and all, but I am picky. And as I said before, I don't want to whore around. For God's sake, I don't even want to see anyone!

We've said that due to our recent long term relationships we just want 'fun'. For me this consists of bowling, eating, and reading. We have been eating, but that's it. The issue with Hot Tub Guy is that he keeps asking me when I'm free again, constant messages on BlackBerry Messenger, text messages, and liking and commenting on my Facebook status updates. This, I dislike.

This is not 'fun'. Let's move on to Lawyer Guy. My mother's ex-colleague, I met him on a night out. He showed interest in me then, but I was in a relationship then and brushed it aside. He was at university and that was the last I had heard from him. A few years down he sent me a friend request on Facebook. The odd message here and there asking how life is going was pretty much how our virtual friendship continued.

That was until I needed to get rid of an extra gig ticket. Who would take this ticket from me? After texting everyone in my phone book, I decided to ask Lawyer Guy. He lives in Cardiff now, but has a wedding in the Midlands on that weekend and he has now accepted. 

He's recently single, and I did genuinely ask him 'as a friend'. But since he's been flirting with me. We even spoke on the phone and had an in depth conversation about the world. This is the first guy since The Ex to actually talk to me. As you can see from the length of this blog, I like to talk, but he was talking back. A conversation! 

We have the gig this weekend, so we shall see how that goes. Sex and the City made this all look so much more glamorous than it actually is. It's all lies.