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.
Sunday, 25 November 2012
Saturday, 10 November 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, 13 October 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, 30 September 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, 16 September 2012
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!
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!
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 21 August 2012
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.
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