I spent last weekend with the Theatre Producer, at her house. It was little a mini-break to a different part of London. I do think it’s important to learn about new cultures and things like that.
It won’t be spoiling the story to say that it was a very nice weekend. So nice that I’ve been struggling all week to think of a way of making it interesting to read. I’ve come up with a plan. See if you can work out what I’ve done.
I met up with the Theatre Producer after work. I’d been hanging around in my favourite wine shop and she joined me there. It’s the same wine merchant owned by the chaps who have the restaurant from EPICDATE #1 so they were curious
to see how epic date went. I also gave The Theatre Producer a one-week anniversary gift of a book I thought she would like, she asked if there would be weekly gifts but I said only weirdos celebrate a fortnight anniversary. We drank a few glasses of wine and then hopped on a bus.
Zombies appeared and started attacking us. Luckily I had my umbrella so I was able to use that as a rudimentary
weapon to fend off attacks. It’s got a spiked end but I really struggled to ‘kill’ any zombies with it, unless I managed to poke it through their eye sockets.
After a short journey and a little walk we arrived at the house of the friend of the Theatre Producer (who was the third and final Schwingalong Girl). It was a very smart place with cream carpets and carefully selected furnishings. The Editor was already there and so we said our hellos and started drinking cocktails while supper was made.
Before we could eat any food at team of ninjas burst in through the window. An epic battle followed. Ninjas are trained in variety of weapons but I don’t think their schooling covers avoiding champagne glasses or cocktail shakers. Because of this we had an advantage when using our improvised weapons. We defeated them eventually and the ones that were still standing dragged the bodies of the ones that couldn’t stand away.
Supper was lovely and afterwards we went to a karaoke club. Biscuit and Jen were there after visiting the zoo. So they were of course face painted as a monkey and a tiger respectively. They were quite drunk and dancing around. MyLoveLifeInYourHands was also there. He had bumped into Biscuit and Jen at the Zoo and so came along to join in the karaoke fun. There was some singing, and some drinking and we stayed until the bouncer told us we had to leave because the place was closing. Everyone said goodbye and the Theatre Producer and I walked back to her place. We collapsed into bed, well she needed a bit of herding, she was terribly drunk. I had to help her take her shoes off.
We woke late. The Theatre Producer needed to watch Game Of Thrones and so I popped out to the shops to get papers, bread and nice things to eat bread with. I got a bit over excited and brought quite a lot of fruit too. We had a relaxed breakfast and I read the papers while she watched faux-medieval people stab each other up. Some time in the afternoon we decided to go to the shops to get something to cook in the evening and a few bits and bobs.
On the way to the shops a dinosaur appeared from one of the parks. At first we were shocked but when we noticed it was a Triceratops. Since it was a herbivore the risk to us was a bit reduced. It kept snorting and charging around so we had to duck behind a wall when it crashed into a couple of cars. There was a rumble and we realised why it was so agitated. A mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex was chasing it. The two beasts circled each other slowly occasionally knocking lamp posts and bicycles over. Then the Triceratops charged at the Tyrannosaurus. They smashed together and fell over a low brick wall and down a hill out of sight so we carried on to the shops.
At the shops we picked up a copy of LA Noir and some food to eat. I decided that The Theatre Producer needed some more flowers so she selected a couple of weedy looking bunches, which was simply not acceptable. Things got a bit out of hand and soon there were more flowers than food. We headed home, cooked a vast meal and messed around on LA Noir. It’s an excellent game where you solve crimes and you have to tell if crime suspects are lying or not. Rather alarmingly The Theatre Producer was terrifyingly good at it so I’m going to have to be careful around her.
We woke up late again and had a light breakfast before heading out to meet another friend of The Theatre Producer for brunch. We were running a bit late and then were even later because the tube was being naughty. We eventually arrived to find the chum carefully guarding a table for us so we could skip the huge queue outside. Brunch was large and afterwards we decided to go shopping. We headed over to a big department store to buy shoes but on the way managed to stop at another place where a couple of dresses were purchased.
Before we could get to the shop there was a loud banging sound and something like metal being crushed. A giant robot was walking just north of Oxford Street. It was dragging it’s huge robotic hands down the side of the buildings. Bits of offices and broken glass were spilling out onto the street. Then a drain cover burst open. A wizard appeared and started throwing fireballs at the robot. The robot fell over, then charged towards the wizard. It was just about to crush the wizard when a unicorn jumped off a bus and stabbed the robot in the head with its horn. The robot exploded and we went into the department store.
The Theatre Producer wanted to buy some shoes that she didn’t need so we worked our way around the various parts of the shoe gallery while she chatted with her chums about things. After careful thought some Louboutin were selected and paid for. We headed back to her house and had some food before she went to go and see Pulp in Hyde Park. I had some work to do so I stayed at home (I also didn’t have a ticket) while she went off. She was going to be coming back much later so I decided to have a some food ready for her when she returned. I went to the supermarket while a bit hungry and got rather too much food so when she returned at nearly midnight there was a vast Cajun inspired meal waiting for her. She was pleased by this but couldn’t finish it all.
Afterwards she told me I’d make a pretty good house-husband.
Apart from the zombies, ninjas, robots, wizards and unicorns it had been a lovely relaxing weekend.
Marriage percentage: 61%
Even though I’d planned a number of internet dates with New Yorkers, I’d had such an awesome time with Kim that I had decided to concentrate on her as I felt she was cute, funny and able to take her margaritas in a fashion that even a sailor would have been proud of.
Toast covered Wednesday night’s activities. I was very good, I didn’t kiss a single person or even try to kiss them, even though I found that I fancied girls immensely more the moment they opened their mouths. Thankfully Blossom’s friends weren’t classic Biscuit types and I was particularly off form after a day walking round the city and feeding myself almost exclusively on sugar.
Thursday I traveled over to meet Kim at work. She works in a large studio divided up into different areas. She came out to meet me and was wearing a cheeky nautical themed number, complete with canvas deck shoes. When she took me upstairs I got a little too excited over the lift (el-ee-vay-tor) which was a huge industrial affair that looked like it should have a robot exoskeleton or massive mother alien xenomorph climbing out of it. However, by far the best part was the free bar. It looked a little like a film set because three sides were decked in a style resembling a cozy London pub, with antique photographs adorning the walls , comfortably worn leather furniture and Chicago Blues wafting across the smoky atmosphere. The fourth wall was open and a studio audience was conspicuous by its absence, which gave the place a simultaneously homely and yet unreal feel.
Kim and I ended up on opposite sides of the bar at the far end and there was a little bit of a heavy atmosphere as one of their colleagues had just been sacked so no one was particularly chatty.
I had a secret weapon however: I am English.
With Kim chatting to a colleague I turned to the nearest person and thrust my hand out to introduce myself and started chatting. I did this with anyone who came into range and was soon chums with most of the people there.
Being a bit of a deaf-o, and unaccustomed to the accents, I kept mishearing everyones’ names. Soon we had a ‘Charleston’ and a ‘Graham’ and I was being called upon to knight everyone with their new English name.
After a fair amount of free booze we all set off to see an art show of a colleague of theirs. It was in a bar and was filled with slightly wanky meeja types and girls a little too cool for school. Charleston complained that he was rubbish at approaching ladies (even though he is ‘chiselled’ handsome) so I decided to help him out by explaining that you just need to ask the right things, about robots or lasers.
Offering to demonstrate, he pointed me towards a lady he wanted to talk to so I politely introduced myself, apologised for disturbing her and told her that my friend wanted to ask her a question about dinosaurs.
Apparently, when he asked “what’s your favourite dinosaur”, the girl just looked blankly at him and said “dino… what???”. I consoled Charleston that any girl who did not know what a dinosaur was didn’t deserve him.
Kim and I were just chatting and having fun. There were no shenanigans because I was pretending to be a chum she met in England, partly for giggles but partly (I suspect) so she didn’t have to explain why she was taking a man she barely knew out with her!
Most people were very nice, the girls especially so as soon as I opened my mouth. One girl even got a bit fighty when she thought I had pushed into a queue. As soon as I spoke she turned all sultry and said “well you can just talk to me in that accent all day long”.
This was clearly more of a potent effect than I had expected. Suddenly I knew how Spiderman felt: “With great power comes great responsibility”. One of Kim’s friends even got quite flirty and touchy whilst dancing.
In a moment of sort of sexy ambivalence, the touchy girl and Charleston had a’ lap-dance off’ for me, Kim and ‘Rosemary’ as we sat on the sofas. It was simultaneously arousing and disturbing so I stuffed a couple of dollars into Charleston’s belt line and he gleefully ran off to the nearest group of girls to dance for them and flash the cash sticking out of his pants.
I think it was around this time that I fell in love with New York.
Eventually it was time to grab a taxi home and so Rosemary, Kim and I piled in. After we had dropped Rosemary off, Kim asked what I was planning to do. Looking a little blankly and hopful I said “…err… I could stay at yours?”. She smiled and agreed on the stipulation that it was just for sleeps as she had work early.
It was lovely just cuddling up, although less lovely dragging myself out of bed in the morning to head to the subway for home.
The following day she sent me a really sweet text message:
“My friends love you. And I really wish you could stay a bit longer cause its so freakin rad. I think you brought us all closer last night”
I beamed to Toast and MyLoveLifeInYourHands that I would happily have her as a girlfriend if I was staying.
Marriage percentage: 35%
I had loads of fun, even though we were pretending to be just chums. It made me sad that I knew I had to leave in only a few days.
This last week has been so utterly exhausting that I was thoroughly looking forward to crashing out in front of a film on Friday night whilst Toast was on his blind date.
However, that evening I received a text from a good friend of mine who was unexpectedly in London for the evening. Under normal circumstances it would be bad form to refuse such an offer and since I hadn’t seen him for a year or so it would have been been a social crime to stay in.
This is exactly why London is awesome.
I didn’t catch up with him until almost 10. After a few drinks he had to head off as he had an early morning drive, which is an unassailable excuse.
Feeling rather tipsy and thoroughly gleeful, this was my chance to head home to catch up on the details of Toast’s date and still have time for a decent night’s sleep.
As I walked into my favourite rock club and scanned the dancefloor for a recently acquired drinking buddy, I pondered quite how thrilling and dangerous London is. Happenstance and whimsy reign and all you need is willing and a reasonable amount of banked sleep. And a healthy amount of disposable income.
I will have to make to with 1 out of three.
The highlight of the evening was the man dressed in a homemade ‘cardboard boxes and tin foil’ robot suit.
Second highlight was getting the number of a redhead girl with a great fringe. This took a little effort to secure as I saw her a few times before there was an appropriate opportunity to make a move so I was rather pleased when she was game for a drink. Deciding that friends, robots and girls had provided me with my fill of fun for the evening I could now skip contentedly home.
(for ‘skip’ substitute ‘take the hour-long night bus journey’)
Whilst waiting for my bus I made friends with a trio of revellers who were loudly discussing the hopeless romantic failings of their male companion. Feeling this was exactly my sort of territory (failed romance) I jumped into the conversation with the two girls to offer the sagely benefit of the years of my experience.
As they were all going the same way, we became bus chums and carried on the conversation at great length and in inappropriate detail all the way home, much to the annoyance delight of our fellow passengers.
I grabbed a number from the naughtiest of the girls, on the promise of catching up with them all on facebook, as we pulled up to my stop. Since then has been quite friendly and a bit naughty on the texts.
- Robots are more exciting than girls. FACT.
- Dancefloor camera-phone photography is not my strong point.
- I need to bank more sleep for whimsical nocturnal adventures.
- Night-busses are a legitimate and exciting way of meeting new people.
P.S. Toast neglected to mention one crucial detail of the following night when his chum RB (who knows about the blog) was visiting. I asked if she had any eligible marriage-worthy friends who she would be prepared to set us up with.
She replied “Ordinarily yes…. but, err, not right now”.
I’m not sure what kind of cads she’s taken us for.
Despite being reasonably adept at the internets I have almost never used Skype. The couple of occasions I have (and struggled with it), it’s been to someone I know to talk about robots or what is our favourite kind of laser.
Last weekend I was wasting my Saturday by lazily skimming through internet dating profiles. If you have never looked at profiles on dating sites it’s worth it just to see the variety of ways in which people try to sell themselves.
Most profiles seem to broadly fall into the following categories:
- Magnolia - Pleasant but bland girls who like ‘nights in a DVD and bottle of wine’ or ‘going out with friends’.
- Sassy – Brazen and confident girls with something provocative to say.
- Disasters – People who have sabotaged their own profile with horrendous pictures or clear indicators of personal problems.
- Bizzare – Some of these look like they’ve been written whilst drunk but all of them will make you think ‘what on earth were you trying to achive with THAT?’
I came across sultry, blonde English Rose type with an utterly bizarre profile. It was possibly the most confrontational thing I had ever seen. Seeing she was online and feeling brazen, I shot her an IM.
B: Bizarre profile
B: How’s that working out for you?
SB: Weeds out the sissy boys
Continuing in an irreverent and offhand style, we seemed to be getting on rather well. Before long we progressed, at her suggestion, to Skype chat then video chat. I did have to run around the house locating my webcam and putting more clothes on first (it wasn’t *that* kind of ‘webchat’).
Reclining on a chaise longue, cigarette in hand and resplendent in her house-coat, (sitting on on a sofa in her dressing gown with a fag) she cut a figure like a modern day Virginia Wolfe.
Talking on Skype to people you don’t actually know is exciting, it’s a bit like having a chat to the TV but having to remember not to pick your nose whilst you do it. We chatted about crappy seaside towns, drinking gin ’till you cry, India and snot. She accepted the thrown-gauntlet of drinking next time she is in town.
The last time either of us got excited after talking at length on the internet to anyone, they got stood up, as Toast did by the sexy maths teacher. With this in mind I plan to continue the casual offhandedness and not speak too much before we have a chance to speak face-to-face. Over gin.
I just need to not look too interested, or sissy, before then.
So basically, I have to not be me.
We have decided to set some challenges to make the whole experience of dating more fun. Or at least more trouble.
The first of these challenges is blind dates.
We have to set each other up on a blind date with someone lovely, or a complete stranger.
That is key, the set-up has to be with someone great and you already know, or some weirdo off the Interspaz but who you have heard is great.
I decided that it would the most entertaining if I set Biscuit up on a date with a someone connected to the blog.
The lovely Ms Fuck Wittery stepped up to the challenge and provided a potential candidate.
The only problem with this set-up is that we couldn’t work out how Ms F-W knew Biscuit, or me well enough to want to set Biscuit up on dates with her friends.
To solve this Ms F-W invented a fictional person called Lauren who knew her and Biscuit.
We (Biscuit and I) found this massively confusing, did I know Lauren? Why did Biscuit know Lauren? What was Lauren like? Did she like robots? Why didn’t Lauren want to date Biscuit?
So Ms F-W had to draw us a diagram.
I, Toast, had been deleted.
To be replaced by a fictional Lauren who was going to get all the credit if the date went well
Now Biscuit just had to arrange a suitable day and a suitable activity.
Lauren would probably claim credit for that too, the hussy.
Having left you on something of a bad soap inspired cliffhanger in part 1, I should take a step back to expand on some things that I was too rushed to write about properly.
I said that Stripy Dress blew hot and cold. Through all this it was actually quite useful to have have Dragonforce’s (slightly sickening) festival romance a yardstick. There was a stark contrast about how comfortable they were with each other compared to how sure of myself I was around Stripy Dress.
I just really didn’t know what was OK and what wasn’t and found her indirectly dictating the terms or our liaison. She certainly got friendlier with a little booze down her but, as nice as this was, is never a good sign if it’s not replicated when sober.
I’m not one to beg for scraps of attention so gradually this behaviour grated. Because we had such a good time on our first date I knew that she could be so much more than this and just kept hoping that she would snap out of this demeanour.
Catching up to the end of part one, I had gone back to my tent to stock up on booze before heading to Silent Disco (best thing EVAR!). I was taking her to task over being difficult and grumpy. She was actually a little affronted about this and protested. We tood and froed over this and then, instead, we were kissing. Then we were kissing a LOT. And then… well… the aforementioned hijinks.
It would be fair to say that this was something of a surprise! The hijinks was great and I think I enjoyed the post-hijinks cuddling up just as much (I’m skirting round the subject but apologies if this is too much info!). She snoozed a few times, which was no mean feat as we were both crammed on my tiny 1 person camp bed.
However, 1 fact remained: I had come back for booze for Silent Disco and I was determined to rendezvous back with the others for silly dancing as I was in no mood for sleeping. So, possibly ill mannered, I whispered my goodbyes, tucked her into my bed and toodled off for some serious dancing.
At this point there may be several readers who are judging me. DF made me feel, quite frankly, AWFUL for doing the sex and then leaving. However getting in my pre-emptive defence; I had said all along I would be leaving for silent disco and I did not just splash and dash, I stayed for all the lovely stuff after for a good while and made sure she was firmly slipping to the land of nod before I left.
On my arrival back from silly dancing I was blissfully pleased to discover she was still there… although in retrospect, this may have more to do with the fact that it was dark and she did not have her contacts in to find the torch. Hmm. Genuinely though, it was a joy to cuddle back up and to snooze together.
After some slightly warmed but still a little too distant behaviour on Sunday she was feeling rather ill so sloped off earlyish that night. She was actually feeling pretty rubbish and I did feel sorry for her. So after eventually retiring to the campsite I replied to a text to her to say she was welcome to come and cuddle up if it helped then went to bed.
About 2 hours later I was woken with a start as I was lightly prodded in the chest. Opening my eyes I saw Stripy Dress who had received my text somewhat belatedly. Despite all the uncertainty and levels of fuckwittery I was genuinely pleased to see her… once I had gotten over the shock of being woken.
So we cuddled up and it was lovely. Actually, what happened is that my improvised bed construction intended for 2 only really housed 1 so most of me was relegated to makeshift bedding formed of rugs, bubble wrap and a hoodie. But I was still genuinely very happy to have her there.
Since the festival, and the journey home with her almost intolerable friend, we’ve spoken about the whole festival experience. 2 interesting things emerged:
- It turned out the she was as pissed off by her grating friend as we were and that made her substantially grumpier all weekend.
- She has a (genuine) medical condition which generally makes her tired and so has to slope off early and which she needs to get sorted.
YES, I KNOW that I’m making excuses, none of this excuses the level of grumpy behaviour I saw but I want to see if the girl who I went on the date with is the real Stripy Dress or if she is the grumpy one. Toast is worried she may be high maintenance. He may well be right.
The next step is to see her next week, preferably with minimal or no booze involved, and see how it goes. Today she left work early as she has the ills and is feeling rubbish so I posted a small aid package as a joke consisting of chicken soup, snacks and tiny toys to keep her entertained in case she is stuck in bed. Basically, it’s both comedy genius (if I DO say so myself) AND a very sweet gesture so if this is not received well then it’s a dealbreaker! I will let you know the official M% after any next date but currently it has plummeted until I can re-evaluate the grumpiness.
and now the p.s….(not related to Stripy Dress)…
In an interesting twist, DF has been meeting the people who she is going away with (for those who are not in the loop she soon leaves to work in Qatar for 2 years). I received a string of excited text messages about a very pretty girls she was with who described her perfect man as ALL the things I am and then proceeded to describe everything I love about girls in herself. Seriously, down to the really ridiculous stuff (and any girl who professes that they have ‘blow job lips’ gets EXTRA points in my book!)
I asked DF to just propose on my behalf and I’d meet her in Vegas at the Star Wars wedding. She replied that she loves Vegas and has always wanted to get married there. She said she would dress as Leia.
She has not only just ticked off EVERYTHING on my ‘list’ but has added new things that I didn’t even know were there. We’ve not even spoken yet but have set the date… for 2012.
2012… because, like Dragonforce, she is f***ing off to Qatar for 2 years!!! ARGH!
Following Toast’s recent arrival back at singledom, it seems that we are once again on a level pegging. In fact, if anything, I may be marginally ahead due to contacts made and groundwork done whilst Toast was with the Fez (if it’s possible to meaningfully qualify any marginal difference in our respective situations as ‘ahead’ or ‘behind’). On the flip-side, Toast has an extensive circle of female friends with beautiful and intelligent acquaintances they can introduce him to.
Yesterday I met up with a lady-friend who is back from Australia for a couple of weeks. I will refer to her as Scarlet for ease of reference. I have known Scarlet for many years as she is part of the extended circle of friends from the home town.
When I say, ‘friend’ I mean the kind of friend who I might have occasionally done naughty things with in the past. Actually, for a number of years I thought that we had fallen out following my ill chosen words on one particular night. I found out last year that she did not actually remember the incident at all (due to generally being fairly stoned around that time of her life) and so all my concern was, apparently, for nothing.
Scarlet left England to work in Australia last August. The night before she left we shared the naughtiest naughtiness so far, involving nakedness and everything. It was fun although, as mentioned before, my head was in no place at that time to connect with anyone so it was entirely physical.
Yesterday wasn’t really a date as such but in the spirit of rule 6 I am documenting it here. Mostly it involved sitting on a gloriously sunny beach with brief forays into:
- eating ice creams,
- sharing a some wine with a couple of other people,
- eating pizza,
- paddling in the outrageously far-away sea,
- having a pint.
In short, it was a normal (sort of)-date. Nothing silly happened. There was a little kissing and it was nice. Rather nice actually. I like kissing and I get to enjoy precious little of it. In a way I kind of miss it more than sex. You can always compensate for lack of sex, but tonguing the opening of a closed fist is good for nothing except giving 7 year-olds totally the wrong idea about what kissing involves when their friend excitedly proclaims it nearly the same as the real thing.
As time wore on and the day drew a close it was time to leave the refreshing sea-breeze behind. I had already offered Scarlet a lift back to mine if she fancied a beer and continuing the entertainment. She was erring on the side of going home. Not because she wanted to but as her friends and family had booked up almost the entirety of her brief visit with a selection of social engagements and she had a horribly early morning to contend with.
I know from past experience that I could easily have swung her decision and her body language was clearly saying that she would prefer to come with me however, ever the gentleman, I opted to leave the choice with her. Had the situation been different I probably would have played it differently but the fact was that I didn’t feel particularly comfortable taking her back to where I live yesterday. Dragonforce (house-mate extraordinaire) had been decidedly off with me before I went to meet Scarlet and made it clear in no uncertain terms that she did not welcome me bringing her back.
Given this situation I really did not want to bring Scarlet round to face a potentially frosty atmosphere so left it. I dropped her off at her parent’s and came home. A while after I got back home Scarlet sent a text to the effect that she had been a spaz and should have made a different decision, but by then it was all rather late.
To be honest, I am rather surprised by how sad this missed opportunity has made me. Standing in the sea (admittedly the murky grey silty sea), and kissing whilst trying not to fall over as our feet sank into the mud, gave me the kind of excited tingles I have not felt in a long time. I’m not saying that I suddenly found myself the victim of a naked chubby archer with suspiciously small wings, I am just saying that it was exciting to kiss and just let go and feel it without the usual internal monologue that accompanies most of my life. Slipping your hand round someone’s waist as your lips touch is an incredibly underrated pleasure.
So in conclusion, even though it wasn’t really a date, marriage percentage: 22%
Sadly it looks like this might be the only time that I see her whilst she is here as the only other free day she has is Sunday and it’s DF’s birthday so I will be attending the family barbecue in the manner of a well-behaved flatmate.
On the plus side, Df and I are hitting the usual rock club haunt on Friday night this week so there are plenty of opportunities for silly blog-worthy shenanigans then. I will probably spill my drink on a girl or slip over on the dance floor at least.
I think perhaps before that it is the ideal juncture, especially with Toast becoming single again and examining his own priorities, to review the qualities I am looking for in a partner. Wicked Shawn and Txtingmrdarcy have counselled me that apparently “brightly colored hair and interest in robots” are not “specific attributes that qualify a spouse”. I will begrudgingly admit that perhaps there’s something in that.
On paper I should be really good at ball sports. I am tall, fit, athletic, can run fast, am nimble on my feet and can juggle (and do a variety of other similar skills requiring feats of coordination) pretty damn well. However I am rubbish at football. As in: always second last picked at school. I can’t coordinate my body to manipulate a football in any meaningful manner besides occasionally accidentally connecting with it and HOOFING it off the pitch.
On paper Cola Lollies should pretty much be my perfect girl. Paper, however, is a misleading resource. It is perhaps the Wikipedia of judgement making tools. It gives you a bloody good idea about something but sometimes completely misses the point.
Cola Lollies is the friend of a friend who I met at a party several years back. She is VERY pretty and I was interested but had no idea how to progress that beyond being a bit starey and attempting to develop my powers of psychic persuasion from afar. The night ended up with me swapping clothes with a girl at the party and waddling round with her skirt worn round my neck, like some kind of transvestite dwarf. Also, girls pants are way too small to contain testicles, as the photo of Cola Lollies’ horrified face will testify. This was apparently a BAD technique to pull girls.
Anyway, jump forward a few years to last August when I saw her again at the same friend’s party. It was this point when I was at the peak of my new found cocksure attitude. We spoke a bit, I was slightly flirty but in a thoroughly ‘I couldn’t care either way’ way and that was it for the evening.
After that she was suddenly rather keen (despite the ‘testicle’ episode mentioned above), came to visit on the bank holiday Friday and didn’t leave until the Monday! At the time she was interested in more than just a casual liaison but my head was in no place to deal with anything meaningful (post-Cupcake).
So, 10 months on and we get together again. I’m prepared to give it a real go and see if I feel more now that my head’s clear of Cupcake related nonsense).
As mentioned, Cola Lollies is VERY pretty, very fit and toned (singer/dancer type), great sense of humour, LOVES to eat food, enjoys ‘boy’ movies (ones with robots and explosions), great taste in music. All we’re really missing is the artificially coloured bright hair.
We had a great time, ate silly Mexican food served with meat and chocolate, ate cake, wandered round, chatted, giggled and enjoyed general shenanigans. I don’t have to put up a front; I can be the massive spaz I am. And yet, something is just not there… and I don’t know why. Call it chemistry, call it spark, call it the look that makes you melt into their gaze and want to cradle their face into your hands… it’s just not there.
On paper she should be at least 50% marriage potential. I really enjoy hanging out, cuddling up, giggling and watching trash telly with her. I didn’t even really want to do rude stuff when I stayed over, although I WANTED to want to.
I think the word for it is ‘friend’.
I would like to see her again, but if she feels anything more for me then it’s unfair not to be explicit about this as I don’t think it’s going to change. Mind you, this is largely academic as she is off to work in China for 6 months.
Marriage percentage, sadly: 15%
Just goes to show that the ‘list’ of things you think you want counts for nothing and that you really, really can’t tell who will make your stomach leap into your throat with a glance, a wry smile or a love of robots with really big lasers.
In the interest of perspective I should now add some qualifiers for readers who will not know the Dragonforce that I know.
DF is pretty much the best person I have lived with. I do not mean that she is the best for when I have a lot to do the next morning and we have a fresh bottle of gin in the house. No, she is terrible for me in those situations as we will sit up cackling whilst watching ridiculous telly or playing Rock Band FAR too loud too late at night. Those occasions are, however, lots of fun.
If there were a ‘spaz’ chart in the house then, for different reasons, we would probably be level pegging. Last night, however, was clearly and episode of ‘spaz’ on her part (earning a new giraffe sticker on the chart) but not malice of forethought. It’s pretty much how we are most of the time and it’s normally fine.
Unfortunately, booze + situation that required tact = spaz
I have revised the lesson learned to:
- Attach remote controlled electrodes to DF when we next go out so I can effect some aversion therapy in moments of ill considered comments.
This lesson has the advantage because it involves both HELPING someone and electricity. If I could just somehow involve a robot in there it would pretty much be the best lesson ever.