Soon she would become nothing more than another anecdote about my bad taste in women.
I thought after the extensive text messages detailing my failings we’d covered all the reasons why I was a bad person.
Surely there wasn’t any need for any more? I was wrong. There was a need, 1500 words of need. I’m going to post it and include some notes on points she ‘overlooked’.
I realise your last text to me clearly impliedyou never wanted me to contact you again but I wanted to talk to you now that things are a bit clearer in my head; I fully accept that it’s highly likely you’ll read this and not respond and that’s obviously totally fine, but I leave it with you. If you do not respond, you have my promise that you shall never hear from me again.
Implied? I said ‘Please never contact me again’
I’ve been thinking about writing for a while but was foremost prompted write to you as for the last few weeks I’ve feared I was pregnant. (Lack of period + early morning throwing up = grave concern). Now, before you panic,I’m fairly sure I’m not – I have taken a zillion tests and it’s all been fine; I have a doctor’s appointment booked just to ease my mind but as I say, the odds of all those pregnancy tests being wrong is fairly slim (otherwise I will sue them. All of them).
WHAT? I always use a condom, I’m very careful about these sort of things.
Also this is the third, yes 3rd woman to email me with a pregnancy scare after we have broken up. I had no idea that was my type.
Bonus mad points for ‘I’m fairly sure I’m not’. There are tests available, you know, in shops.
But it stressed the hell out of me first of all, because I couldn’t work how I would explain this to you or if you’d acknowledge it and was working out how to explain everything I’m about to type. Post-tests, I was much relieved but I really felt I should still wanted to let you know the following and explain some things.
Okay, get ready this next bit is a corker.
I find it odd to think of us just never speaking again (though will accept this, if this is really what you want) and also, I’ve been reading so much about Japan and Libya in the press lately (bear with me, I have a point…) and when there are so many truly important and devastating things going on in the world at the moment, I feel fairly guilty and self indulgent for drama being made out of things which didn’t need to be as dramatically blown out of proportion.
Yes, that’s right she has just used the Tsunami and massacres of civilians by the Gaddafi regime to try and guilt me into talking to her. This really is a new low.
People argue.And that’s normal in friendships, relationships whatever…but the idea of reacting by cutting someone out of your life altogether…well, I just feel it’s a bit overly dramatic and self indulgent. That’s not a pointed criticism at you-as I will explain, I too should have acted in a more sensible way…
It’s interesting she raises arguments, because she would often get into a huff and show this by refusing to talk or even look at me until I pestered her into talking. This often took hours. Hours. I don’t want to talk to her any more because I have nothing to say to her.
I’m a fairly introspective person and I do not like the way I behaved at several points in our relationship.
I’d quite like to get this printed out maybe on a poster or something or sewn into a commemorative cushion.
I should probably have told you what was wrong sooner and I’m very disappointed in myself for just storming off at the Museum that day – I think I explained why to you-I was trying so hard to start conversations and tell you things and I couldn’t understand why you weren’t responding and appeared to have no interest…however, my marching off like a child was a ridiculous response and I understand why it may have left you bewildered.
She didn’t start conversations with a question, or a statement that inspired the curiosity she would just say things. Normally things she had said before and then fume because I didn’t have any more questions about them. The storming off incident was caused by her saying ‘I’m looking forward to my holiday’
We had already covered almost every aspect of her holiday. I knew where she was going, on a day by day basis. Her plans for it, every possible item she intended to buy for it. Who she was going to see, who she was going to miss.
I can confidently say that I could go on Mastermind and with ‘The Consultants holiday, which I’m wasn’t invited to’ as my specialist subject and pass with a high enough mark to get through to the finals. If the subject of her cats came up I could probably win the series.
I do not ever act like that and I remember how I felt..tired and unsure what to do and frustrated…but those aren’t excuses. At the end of the day, I should have spoken to you properly.
Close, but yet still no mention of sorry. Maybe the s key is off in hiding with the o, r and y.
I also do not like the fact I sent you that text the morning we broke up; I’ve always believe those sort of things should never EVER be done by text or even phone but I figured if you weren’t going to come out that afternoon and talk, it seemed a clear signifier that things were done.
What about the other text messages? The two dozen you sent detailing everything about me that was wrong and all the ways I’d ever let you down. Did you quite like them and so didn’t feel you should almost apologise for them?
I was also just frustrated and angry because, honestly, I wanted to see you and to talk but I should know better by now than to write such a message when feeling fairly emotionally charged which is a very silly thing to do and I am sorry for that.
Okay, here is a sorry. Although what she said she wanted to do in the text messages was take her shopping with my VIP discount card so she could get supplies for her holiday at a discount. Wow, what an offer!
I also need to learn that people will not necessarily respond the way I expect or think they should do. Sounds like an obvious thing really but I think after I send you that message, I assumed you’d ‘get’ from my texts that I was just drained from the situation and was responding out of frustration and not out of malice or spite. I am very aware of my faults, as outlined above… , but I’m not spiteful or petty; I hate the idea of hurting people; I want to make people happy and I’d never intentionally do anything to deliberately upset someone no matter what; I’m sorry if it hurt you.
Apart from all the things you did deliberately to show me how upset you were. Actually this paragraph was pretty good. If I hadn’t specifically told her never to contact me again, and if she’d only sent this then that would have been okay.
Also, honestly, I did think that the only reason you were annoyed about the situation was because you were losing the fact you had someone to sleep with on a regular basis. I know you reassured me this was not the case…but you must understand when you didn’t really inquire about my life or ideas or my past, to me that was the logical assumption.
Not really. No it’s you being MAD. Actually this is interesting. Just after I’d finally got her to talk about how angry she was she said that she had previously broken up with a man because she thought it was just about sex.
They were living together at the time nothing he said or did could persuade her otherwise and their relationship broke down. In hindsight she realised that this was her fault. I wonder if she will have the same insight about us?
I did enquire about her past. I knew where she grew up, where she went to school. Everywhere she had worked, what she did at the job and what she liked and hated about the job.
More than just that, I pulled in quite a lot of favours to further her career. Like big ones. I think this might come back to the fact she doesn’t really know how to start a conversation and there are only so many things I could ever say about her cat, which I’d never met.
It’s lovely that you could remember what I was wearing on each of our dates…but that just further kind of proved my point. It would have meant much more if you’d remember things I’d said or things you’d learned about me.
I did know all those too. I wasn’t aware I should have recited the significance of the ring you wore on your little finger (Holiday in Hawaii after quitting a job in Canada. You got upgraded on your room and had a hot tub that overlooked the sea) or a million other things I knew about you.
When I have fairly serious back issues and you referred to my chiropractor as my ‘chiropodist’…things like that just wore me down.
I’M SUCH A HEARTLESS BASTARD. How can I even look at myself in the mirror.
Again, please don’t read this as an attack – I just wanted to properly articulate how I felt so you could perhaps understand why I responded the way I did. I knew, comparatively, a lot about you and I enjoyed finding out things and getting to know your character and I couldn’t understand why you didn’t respond in the same way to me – although, as I say, I know I should have articulated this better at the time.
Okay Ms Consultant. What do you know? I mean what did you really know about me? What is my favourite colour? Have I ever owned a cat? Which music do I like? What is my middle name?
I don’t want to sound like the tragic, undervalued female but I have had so many relationships which have just been focal on the sex, under the illusion of something more significant, I really needed something more meaningful. E.g. When you told me the ‘only reason you wanted to go to the theatre was to f*ck me in the intermission’…I mean, you understand why I thought the way I did right?
Ahem right, well this is a bit tricky. *blushes* Yes that sounds bad, but it was in the middle of some you know sexy talking during sex, which she started, out of the blue. It was quite shocking really.
I blushed after I said that and it was in reply to her request for something involving a conference room table. Which I should add, I didn’t take as a sensible request.
Yes I realise mentioning the theatre makes me sound a bit off, but there are some lovely shows on that I’d love to see.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sex and think it’s a terribly important part of a relationship…but I’m not a teenager anymore and the older I get, the more I realise I want something significant and long-lasting. I am sincerely sorry for the fact that I just seemed aloof and didn’t let you know what the issues was straight away…honestly, I think I just couldn’t comprehend that you couldn’t know what was wrong…but I should have thought about it more.
This is a pretty sensible paragraph, not much to complain about here.
I hope this doesn’t seem a) rambling (I fear it might ) or b) antagonistic.
I just really wanted to mature route and “talk” about things properly, and apologise for not telling you why I was upset sooner.
I love that ‘talking’ like a ‘grown-up’ gets to be in quote marks.
It sounds like the biggest cliché in the world but life is so short and there’s so much hate and turmoil in the world already that unnecessary animosity and hostility, unless someone’s done something really terrible, seems ridiculous sometimes.
Yes, life is too short. I realised that it was too short to put up with any more of your nonsense.
Sometimes I think people are too ruled by maxims which indicate once you’ve ‘fallen out’ with someone, that’s it, that’s how things are. I never want to live like that and I never want to not be able to forgive someone or to be able to say I’m sorry.
This bit is also quite good. However the problem was that when we started officially going out rather than just dating you would get VERY ANGRY about something and then storm off, and I would have to patch things up. I don’t want to live like that. That was the point I realised we didn’t have a future.
I think part of the reason people find apologising or backing down so hard is because it’s a pride thing but pride is way overrated. I have no problem acknowledging that there are things I should have done better ..and if I couldn’t do that, that’s probably when I’d lose pride in myself. (Gah, that sounds rather like something a earnest teenage heroine of an American rom com).
Possibly, if I’d never met you.
But as I say, there are enough genuine problems and actually awful things in this world that pointless animosity just seems like such a waste of energy. And as I mentioned before, I’ve never and never would intentionally do anything to try and hurt you and I’m sorry if I did.
Well, yes, you did. You were angry and so you acted like you’d caught autism instead of trying to explain why. I never intentionality eat cupcakes but sometimes they just fall into my face.
Okay, this is way too long. My Hotmail keeps throwing back some of the emails I’m sending to my Gmail buddies today so I may send it to your Facebook as well. If this really has bothered you that much, then I’ll respect that and promise I won’t try and ‘amend’ things any more. But if you would like to talk then do let me know.
And I know you said you didn’t want to get ‘drawn into this’ anymore but I’m not trying to draw you into an argument or anything like that…as I mentioned at the beginning of what has now turned out to be some sort of dissertation, when there are such serious and important and devastating things going on in the world all the time, I felt fairly silly about this huge deal where we ‘never speak again’ being made due to pride or other unimportant, self indulgent reasons. If you want to tell me why you were so angry with me, I’ll willingly listen and try to explain to you
I think her mistake is thinking that I’m boiling with rage (Although clearly I have the energy to do this post, but part of that was thinking that it might make good copy) when really I just don’t care.
Okay, well done if you made it this far!
Thanks, can my reward be you never contact me again?
This really is very long and my bed is asking to be snuggled up in and my West Wing DVDs are requesting to be watched. Hope you are having a fun and sun-filled weekend and if you do choose not to respond, best of luck with any future adventures you have planned!
I feel sorry for anyone you date in the future!
This is our 200th post! WOO!
Things have been weird for a while. Not a good weird, just a bad weird.
There has a been a stilted air between the Consultant and I. The conversations have been awkward like the sort of conversations you have with Great Aunts. You know the ones who are a bit racist but you have to be polite to because at some point you may inherit from them.
Not that the Consultant is racist, I’m just talking about the sort of slow pauses where every tick of the clock feels like a cycle of the moon.
On Thursday there was another swish party and I had invited the Consultant along as my plus one. This was held at a famous London landmark. They had changed some bits inside and so invited a load of the press along to see the changes. It was the best possible way to see the tourist attraction because.
1) You didn’t have to queue and it was free.
2) At the slightest pause waiters would offer you vast amounts of food and drink.
Everyone there was having a great time larking about doing things that the normal visitors wouldn’t be allowed to do while swigging wine. Everyone except me and my plus one.
The Consultant was being cool and distant again. Apart from a brief period in the middle where she relaxed enough to have some fun. Then she went all distant again, it was like she couldn’t even look at me.
I checked in the loos to make sure I hadn’t accidentally drawn a swastika on my forehead or anything like that. I hadn’t so I couldn’t understand the disdain.
At a couple of points in the evening we would be talking and then she would run off almost mid-sentence. The first few times she did this it was to grab canapés, which is of course a noble task, but it happened a couple of times later on where she ran off and then sent a text message from the other side of the room. It was weird.
We parted company fairly early in the evening, I had another two bashes to go to and she wanted to go home. The parting was if anything painfully unfriendly. I was baffled.
On Friday I had invited her over to the house. Biscuit was out so The Consultant and I had plans to spend an evening together. You know one of those nice evenings that smug couples go on about.
I cleaned the house and then popped out for supplies. She arrived while I was in the shops and was waiting outside the house.
I let her in and then started constructing the elaborate meal designed to impress her. She played a dancing computer game while I cooked. Compared to previous cooking experiences it was very awkward. I’ll be typing that word a lot in this post.
We ate the food. It was excellent crispy pork with a selection of interesting side dishes, as always I’d cooked far too much, so I couldn’t even get half way through the pudding.
We chatted a little on the sofa and things looked like there were going to get a little bit rude but The Consultant was having none of it. There was a plan to watch a film but she couldn’t decide what to do. So instead of watching a film we went to bed and I had one of the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had. Oh and nothing naughty happened.
So I’d invited her around, cooked a complicated and fancy meal and she couldn’t even look at me in the eye. This was the point at which I decided we needed ‘a chat’ I didn’t want to have another chat but there you go. Sometimes you’ve just got to have chats.
The conversation everyone dreads
I woke up hours before her so I read a little. Her multitude of alarms went off and she asked if she could take a shower so I loaned her a towel. While she was cleaning I went and got some Danish pastries and warmed them up in the oven. When I heard the shower stop so I made tea, to her exact instructions. She likes her tea only slightly warm with a dash of milk.
We sat down with the pastries and I said, “What’s going on? Things seem painfully awkward between us.”
There was a pause. I’ve had enough awkward grown-up conversations to know that you need to just wait out the pause. The pause went on.
“You don’t seem to be interested in me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t ask me enough questions about things to do with me. Like about my work or anything like that.”
Her voice crackled a little bit.
We explored this subject some more. I wasn’t asking her enough questions about her. Which was the cause of the frantic running away on Thursday. I did say that I was interested in her more than her body and I was sorry if she felt I wasn’t asking enough questions. I suddenly decided to list a comprehensive list of facts about her that I had learned and committed to memory. The Consultant Themed Pub Quiz didn’t impress sadly.
We raised the subject of the cold shoulder and she admitted she had been doing it because she was so angry with me, which was also why naughty times were off the table. Reasonable I suppose but perhaps communicating this anger would have been better than me having to tease it out of her again.
We also talked about how we seemed to get on better drunk and that we were having the sort of awkward stilted conversation that a couple has when they have been married for 60 years and they have nothing left to say.
I said this didn’t bode well. You never get a good bode do you?
The conversation was punctuated with vast gaping pauses, which is sort of to be expected. The clock ticked slowly in the corner.
I said how I didn’t want to feel so awkward and stressed by a relationship and this should still be the honeymoon period. She agreed. And that I found it to strike up conversation with her when she was giving me the cold shoulder the whole time.
Then I said that I wasn’t sure there could be a future in this, but that I didn’t want it to end. And I asked her what she wanted.
She said she didn’t want it to end either, we hugged.
She asked if I’d like to meet up this afternoon as originally planned. I said okay because it would give us both time to think about things. After she left I noticed she had cried a little on my shoulder.
Typing out this entry has cleared my mind. It is not going to continue. I’ll meet up with her though, because something should be done face to face.
It’s a big warning sign to have things go wrong this early on, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life constantly battling to tease this stuff out of her while fighting her cold shoulder of rage. For the last couple of weeks I’ve asked her repeatedly what’s up and it’s only now she has come out and admitted something.
I can’t decide if ‘We don’t talk enough about me’ is a valid complaint or not. So I think we can leave that one for now.
Biscuit will probably back me up on this one. I’ve been stupidly stressed by it all for the last few weeks. The fun to hard times ratio has been way out.
Marriage percentage 0.5%
* If a girl starts acting all weird I should call her out on it instantly and not relent until I get the answer.
* Yet again I prove I have terrible taste in women.
* She never made me breakfast, not once, and I know one shouldn’t count these things but I’ve given her loads of lovely well thought out gifts. She has given me a cold.
* A girl being fabulously well dressed counts for a lot, but it’s not the basis of a relationship.
Of course I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, what do you think?
Regular readers will know that The Consultant was worried that our relationship was just about sex. It was a bit bumpy for a while but then we had a grown-up conversation about it and it seemed to be fine.
So fine that she invited me around to her place at 10pm on a Saturday night. When I arrived she was wearing just very skimpy item of clothing.
I’m a sucker for a well dressed lady and – I am sure as you suspect – she had one thing on her mind.
The next morning we woke up, or I woke up early and read a book while she snoozed. I always wake up early so I take books with me so I don’t wake the other person.
Several chapters later she woke up and instantly had designs upon me. I didn’t even bother to pretend to resist. It was of course very pleasant.
I suggested getting breakfast together but she said she didn’t have time. She was off to the gym and I had some writing I could have done so I strolled off home.
So we had a Saturday morning together, but no time for shopping together or wandering the streets making small talk, just the naughty stuff and then leaving.
Exactly what she had said the previous weekend that she didn’t want to happen.
Girls are mad.
I do wonder sometimes if her slightly clunky approach to male relationships is due to the fact her father wasn’t really around when she was growing up. I suspect that absent parents make more of an impact than we think. Could this be the root of it all?
Marriage percentage: 25% I still don’t really ‘get’ her, even if she is always immaculately turned out.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Things with the Consultant have been good and they have been less than good. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.
On Wednesday I took her to a film premier.
We were supposed to be going to a slightly swanky party but some last-minute tickets to The Eagle dropped into my hands so I thought we’d do that instead.
She’d never walked the red carpet before so I thought could be fun adventure.
We arrived a little late, so there wasn’t as much time for red carpet posing as we would have liked but there were lots of people dressed up as Romans so that helped. We did manage stop briefly on the carpet to be snapped before bumbling into the film and sitting down.
There was a long talk from the producer, and then a brief talk from the director and actors before things started. The actors mostly just jumped up on stage and waved. Channing Tatum had an excellent blue suit on.
The film was bad, really quite bad. It was also a mega boy film, with unlike-able characters and a vapid plot.
The Consultant was bored. I was bored and my skin was crawling with embarrassment over dragging her to watch such an awful film. I felt so much shame that I gave her my chocolate bar.
After the film was over I took her out for a meal to make up for the film-sins. We had some reasonable Chinese food in China town and discussed how awful the film was before jumping on the tube.
I ended up staying at her place for the night, it was nice. The only minor blip was she got me to do something nice for her, and then fell asleep before repaying the favour. Hrmpf.
I was hoping this wasn’t going to become a habit.
We had arranged to meet up on Saturday in the evening. She had some furniture she had bought and needed help making it. I said I’d help and in a slightly cheeky way asked what my reward would be. This didn’t go down well. It would be safe to say that the text I had in reply was terse.
I tried to call her to sort things out, she didn’t pick up.
Then it was time to turn up at her house for supper. I hopped on the tube with an overnight bag, but I was expecting to end up going home.
I was expecting to break up with her to be honest. Her behaviour was so baffling and to have this sort of prickly encounter this early on was not a good sign. I’m too old for this sort of nonsense.
I arrived at her flat. Her room was a mess with bits of furniture everywhere. She was looking a little flustered. We said hello across the skeleton of a cabinet. It wasn’t a friendly hello.
There wasn’t a kiss, a hug or even a mwah. I’ve had more jovial encounters in police stations.
I made the furniture. Thinking it was vaguely reminiscent of that date with the Fez but far less fun. When the furniture was made we put it in place and then rearranged her room. All with an air of remote impersonal efficiency like communist era Russia.
The Consultant then went out to get supplies for cooking. I offered to go with her but she said I should remain in the now empty flat. I spent the time reading a pamphlet I’d found in my coat pocket very thoroughly.
She was gone for about 45 minutes and returned with a selection of goodies including ice cream. I took the ice cream as a positive sign, if she wanted to have that chat she wouldn’t have got ice cream.
She then jumped into a shower, so I cut up vegetables and because I’d run out of things to do, all the washing up. We made the meal in frosty near-silence. We were literally at opposite ends of the kitchen during the cooking process. I’ve never made a meal in a less sexy way.
The food was served up and eaten with the polite non-conversation normally reserved for people you are near in queues or distant cousins with extreme religious views.
After supper we watched Clue on her laptop and then I asked her what was going on, you know like an adult.
She apologised for the terse text, saying she had been really tired and a bit snappy.
I didn’t say anything else thinking that a pause might help, and she finally revealed the source of the issue. She said that previous relationships had been just about sexy times and mistakenly thought this was what our relationship was based on.
She had previously broken a relationship with a chap because she thought that, even though they were living together and he had tried to convince her otherwise and she admits that this was the wrong thing to do.
This does explain a bit of how she might have been a bit remiss about returning favours in the bedroom.
She admitted she had a bit of an issue.
After this things suddenly defrosted and became far more friendly. I did end up staying the night and it was nice. I left the next day far more relaxed but somewhat pensive.
The next day she emailed me thanking me for being so understanding about the whole sexy times issue.
I’m still a bit concerned. I’m aware everyone has luggage but to have a blip this early on makes me raise an eyebrow. I didn’t expect to be dealing with drama this early on in courtship. Is this a warning sign or just a little curve in the road to a better place? I’d love to know what you lot think.
Marriage percentage: 25% - Yes it’s going to take a hit for this sort of stuff. I’ve dated enough hot, troublesome women to be slightly edgy about this sort of thing.
The first few days back in England were a jet-lagged blur. I definitely did go to work but I don’t remember much of it.
I did join a gym though.A week of drinking and American food had made my clothes shrink alarmingly. So I thought I should do something about that.
On Wednesday I had arranged to go over to The Consultant’s new flat. She had just moved in that very day.
It was in the evening, I was still a bit spaced out but it was a sort of constant feeling so evenings didn’t mean much. I don’t like jet lag when I head East. From now on I’m only going West.
The flat was the top of a tower block so the views across London are amazing.
I got distracted by the view and spent about ten minutes looking over London in a daze
Eventually I managed to refocus and knocked on her door. Her flatmate answered which confused me for a moment but then she appeared looking slightly shy in her serious business clothes. Girls look hot in lady business clothes.
We said slightly tentative hellos and then I sat down and handed over a selection of gifts (make-up, perfume and so on), culminating in handing over the underwear. It would be an understatement to say it was a hit. I had her size perfectly and it was in a style and colour she liked.
She had to do a bit of work before we go could go to sleep but she resolutely did it while wearing her new fancy pants which was very beguiling. She looked very good in them. I might make that a rule, she can do work while visiting but it has to be while wearing fancy pants.
At some point in the evening the following dialogue happened.
The Consultant: “Thank you again for my lovely underwear.”
Toast: “You seem to have it all now, the flat, the job, the pants, the only thing you seem to be missing is a boyfriend.”
T.C says nothing.
Toast: “We could fix that you know. Would you like that?”
T.C still says nothing but looks at Toast through her fringe (bangs).
Toast: “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”
T.C: “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
There may have been some kissing.
Fade to black
Marriage percentage: 35%
It was our final day in New York, well half a day.
Out flight was early in the afternoon so we had time to be hung over, make polite conversation with Biscuit’s new house guest and clean the apartment before we left.
I decided to take advantage of the online check-in facilities before we set off for the airport.
I logged in, entered my details and saw a very surprising number.
Our flight wasn’t for another day.
I don’t know how it happened, but for some reason we had convinced ourselves that our flight was on Sunday. It wasn’t, it was on Monday. We are morons.
There was a lot of loud confused conversation and some laughter.
Then logic kicked in. It would cost more than a hotel room to move our flights a day and thus Bonus Day was born. A whole extra day in New York
Biscuit frantically called the lady who we were renting the apartment off to see if we could get the place for an extra day. She didn’t answer her phone. Between her calling back and us digging out our booking details we discovered that we had the flat for the day anyway. He had to explain to her on the phone that we were berks, but she took it well.
A whole extra day in New York! I had to make a quick call to my work to arrange another day of cover and then we were all good to go. A whole day of doing what ever we wanted.
We set off into the lovely sun, it was still cold but not freezing. Since it was Bonus day we went and took the free ferry that goes past the Statue of Liberty. It was rather impressive, the ferry and the statue. We ate some exciting new street food. I don’t know who first thought of putting a hot-dog inside a pretzel but they deserve a medal.
On the ferry MyLifeInYourHands and I quizzed Biscuit about his girl situation he said he liked all of the girls a lot and couldn’t choose between them so we asked him a series of hypothetical questions to find out which one he should marry. I’m sure he will share some of these questions in a future post. He told us off for a couple of them so they must be good.
After the ferry ride we picked up some booze and headed to a house party that a British friend of mine was hosting. We got drunk with slightly grumpy Brits for a bit, I was amazed that they could be leaving in New York and be grumpy but there you go.
Later on in the evening the group split up. Biscuit went off to see one of his girls and MyLifeInYourHands went off to see Blossom. I stayed with my chums who de-grumped and we went to Soho House to watch the Oscars. It was a lovely final night in New York. I drank too much gin.
The trip had been everything we’d hoped and nothing like we’d expected.
I had really enjoyed it but was exhausted by the constant drinking and misadventures.
Also there was a part of me that really wanted to get back to London to see the Consultant and find out if she liked the fancy underwear I had bought for her from Victoria’s Secret…
Last night the Consultant came around and we cooked beefburgers (hamburgers for the Americans) together. The plan was to make them from scratch so I went to the shop to pick up ingredients on the way to meet her at the tube station.
We said hellos. She was wearing a white shirt, with a small light brown skirt with light brown cowboy boots and a light brown belt.
It was another well-coordinated look. I’ll have to ask her about that some time to find out if she plans them in advance or just pulls them together.
We got back to the house and started to prepare the meal. I’d got a load of lovely things to put on burgers so there was blue cheese to crumble and tomatoes that needed slicing.
The Consultant put some music on and the cooking was fun. There may have been slightly more kissing than the people on MasterChef would approve of but the end result (the food I mean) was spectacular.
After eating too much we retired for the evening for bed. The Consultant had to get up early to be on the other side of London so two alarms were set before we went to sleep. We did talk about some stuff, like previous relationships and the amount of people you have slept with. Why do people ever ask that question? What ever the answer they aren’t going to like it.
I said I’ve never counted (true) and that I didn’t see the point in keeping score (also true). We talked about relationship history, but it had been so long since I’ve had that chat I had to think carefully to remember it all. She had previously been in an ‘open relationship’ with a soldier but nothing for a while.
The next morning we woke up early thanks to shouty alarms. The Consultant grabbed a shower and I prepared tea, a few Danish pastries and of course some breakfast chocolates. The Consultant liked this and especially pleased with the pastries.
The Consultant wants to get into writing, I had said if she could write a test piece for me that was good enough I ‘d see about commissioning some work from her. She was excited by this.
So after breakfast she decided she wanted to write this test feature, right now. I did sort of make sense because I was there to provide instant feedback but also I was aware of the clock ticking away before she had to leave.
She wrote on my laptop for about 45 minutes. I sort of sat around quietly waiting. I hate being interrupted while writing so I thought I’d afford her the same grace that I would like, it was a bit of a boring way of spending a morning though.
The sample she produced was good. It only needed a little bit of tweaking to make it better suited to the paper, and I told her so.
The Consultant seemed pleased with this and there was quite a lot of kissing. The sort of kissing that might be leading on to something that people do when a lady and a man like each other very much. There was wriggling too.
She was on top of me wriggling around kissing me. It was nice.
And then it stopped suddenly, because she reached over to get the laptop. She did apologise but said she was a perfectionist and she wanted to tweak a sentence. She did a bit of editing while still straddling me.
As you can imagine I was a little shocked by this. Still I decided to focus the positives, she was at least using the laptop to one side rather than resting it on my face.
Once she had finished editing there was a bit more kissing, with her saying she was going to be late. The resistance faded a little bit when I did something very nice on her, but before the subject of reciprocating even be raised she said she had to go.
I walked her to the tube and said goodbye. For the first time I didn’t raise the subject of when I was seeing her next.
Marriage Percentage: 20% – She took a knock for the whole laptop thing, also no-one wants to end a date with a vague sense of being miffed. However I’m sure everyone has off days so I’m not going to delete her from my phone and become a monk.
Not yet anyway.
The Consultant came over a few days later. I asked her to wear something extra slinky and she turned up in a dress that caused breathing complications at 100 yards. Win!
We went to a stand-up gig at the O2, had drinks in the bar and then she stayed over. She was quite possibly the best house guest ever. The only minor complication was that she had covered my back in scratch marks just before I was due to fly off to New York.
Marriage Percentage: 35%
Saturday was a busy day and I was late for most of it.
Jess is back in London and also newly single so we had a long chat about dating. She can’t do internet dating because, well she is a bit famous and people would spot her online in seconds so she has to resort to other methods.
For example she has briefed friends over what she is looking for – hot scientists with a dash of Mark Kermode, or Jarvis Cocker about them. If you spot someone like that please let me know.
Jess is up for some speed dating type events so that could be entertaining, I can’t imagine any way that could go wrong. Oh no.
We had a lovely time looking at art, eating cake and laughing at stupid situations to do with relationships. I like art, and Norman Rockwell’s paintings were a perfect warm-up for the trip to New York.
After much cake and tea I had to rush home and prepare myself for a visit from The Consultant. So we parted ways with a few film recommendations.
The Consultant was running late which suited me fine as it gave me time to shave my face, furiously clean the kitchen and put fresh sheets on my bed.
I met the Consultant at the tube station and escorted her back to the house. She was wearing an incredibly slinky grey dress. It was breath-taking, when she took her coat off I actually gasped, which probably wasn’t very cool.
I didn’t realise that people gasped in real life. She really is alarmingly pretty.
It was actually hard to concentrate with her slinking around the kitchen. Luckily, I had been chilling some gin so I used a couple of large gin and tonics to take the edge off her looks. She had some too, although I suspect for different reasons.
Topped up with gin I was finally able to concentrate well enough to use a knife again so I set about cooking a Jamie Oliver 30 minute meal for her.
This one was based around sausages because that is what she asked for. She helped with the chopping and within about 20 minutes we were feasting on far too much lovely food. The horseradish mash was especially good, I’m definitely going to make that again.
We watched a film for a bit and then retired for the evening. At some point later we heard a shout from Biscuit as he returned from his date. I’m sure he will post about that.
The next morning The Consultant and enjoyed a relaxed lie-in, and then I gambolled off to the shop to buy blueberries, chocolate, bacon, orange juice, the Sunday papers and even a couple of glossy magazines. As you may have guessed I was in a good mood.
I returned from my successful hunter gathering and presented my spoils to The Consultant. She was pleased and we ate blueberries while flicking through magazines. She put on one of my shirts (again looking dangerously hot) and joined me in the kitchen where we had fresh blueberry muffins and crispy bacon.
At about lunch time she had to go off and meet a friend in central London. I retired back to bed.
Marriage percentage: 40% – 5 of that is just for that dress, she really is quite excellent.
* The Consultant is impressive. Really impressive, and I’m not just talking about her wardrobe.
* New York is looming in my mind, but I still want to see her more.
* I need to see what her next dress will be.
* If in doubt, have a stiff gin.
I understand that the following post may make me sound like an utter berk, but this blog isn’t about sounding good it’s about the truth and getting married.
The date on Saturday went really well and that is a bad thing.
We met up outside the cinema in the afternoon. The Consultant was wearing a dark green dress with frills on the front and black boots. Her hair was expertly ruffled with a messy fringe. She looked excellent.
I got the tickets and chocolate ice cream for us to eat while watching the film. I also had a hip-flask with whiskey in it. I’d heard that Black Swan could be quite harrowing and that we might need a stiff drink to get through it.
I was right. It was harrowing, but in an excellent way. Sort of like dating a mad person. I was utterly captivated by it, I leaped with horror a couple of times and I was gripped until the end. Also it made me want to go and see Swan Lake so that is a plus.
The hip-flask was definitely needed, the Consultant asked for it during a scene in a bathroom. If you have seen the film you will know what I mean.
After the film the Consultant suggested we go back to my house so I could show her a TV show I’d recommended. So we did that. On the way we bought supplies for gin and tonic. The house was warm and we sat on the sofa watching the show and drinking very good G’n'Ts made with fancy gin.
About two episodes in, the Consultant put her legs on my legs. Just resting there. We had more gin. She was drinking far faster than me and ended up a couple of drinks ahead. In my defence I was a little broken from the night before.
By the time the third episode had begun there was some definite if subtle stroking going on. Just a little flex of the leg to suggest that her intentions towards me might be a bit more than just watching an entire series of an American comedy together.
So took a slug of gin and I did the honourable thing. I kissed her.
She was pleased with this and there was some more kissing. Then some other stuff, and we ended up going to my room.
She asked for a glass of water, I went and got one and by the time I returned she was lying on my bed resplendent in some terribly fancy underwear. Smooth moves indeed.
I am sure you can guess how the rest of the evening went. I will only just imply that it was surprising in a good way.
The next morning I woke up before her, and slipped off to get some breakfast supplies. I returned with the Sunday papers, fresh pastries, strawberries and some light breakfast chocolates. We ate them in bed. She read the travel section I ruffled through the style pages. She was a very well-behaved house guest.
At midday I had to rush off to a film premier and so pulled on some fancy clothes and walked the Consultant to the tube. We parted with a mwah and I said we should meet up again in the week, suggesting Friday because it was my only free day. She said she would email me.
Marriage percentage: 30% – More good frocks, amazing fun on sleep-overs and her hair looked even more beguilingly messy in the morning.
I just wish I hadn’t met her just before the New York Trip. I don’t want to string her along but also I really don’t want to have another trip to America when I am at the beginning or the end of a relationship.
At the film premier I met another girl, the date had been planned for weeks, but I still felt a bit guilty meeting up with her. The film was pretty awful but the girl was nice and had an absolutely beautiful grey coat on but sadly I doubt I’ll see her again. I don’t need another nice girl in my life just before a trip to America.
Marriage percentage: 10% – Perfectly nice but awful timing.
So it seems the path to having slightly too many suitable women around is to swear off them for a bit. If only I had known this a few months ago or at least before I’d booked flights to New York.
And yes, I am aware that this whole post is basically me saying ‘My bag of gold is too heavy’ or ‘My pet dinosaur is too much fun’.
If you have the world’s tiniest violin you might want to play it a little for me.