Home > Adventures in Dating > Not Kissing Penelope Cruz

Not Kissing Penelope Cruz

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I met up with the not-quite-an-old-flame at last. She needs a better name than that, because it’s, well it’s not correct. Let’s call her Penelope.

We met years ago, like maybe ten years ago. I went on a lunch date with a girl which was a bit awkward. We stayed in touch and became chums. It’s amazing how many of my female chums are dates that didn’t quite work out but we got on.

She invited me to a few parties and that’s where I met Penelope.

I instantly took a shine to Penelope. She was, and is my type. Greek, interesting and a little bit bit naughty. I was smitten.

It would be fair to say I spent about two years trying to seduce her, well seduce isn’t quite the right word. I met her parents, a few times. I befriended her sister and even bonded with her brother in law.

We would meet up loads and hang out and talk for hours over coffee or go to restaurants. We even went on a sort of mini-break to Brighton that included an entirely asexual night sharing a bed at a friend’s house.  I started learning Greek, no really.

We never kissed. Not even once.

I tried a couple of times and it was deftly avoided. I think I must have entered the dreaded friendship zone, which was fine with me really because she is lovely, really interesting and has a splash of silly. I still really fancied her though.

We drifted out of contact a bit when I had to move out of London for a job. When I returned a few months ago we made vague promises to  meet up and at last it finally happened.

It was a lovely warm Friday. Half the world had decided to have a cheeky drink after work in Soho. We met up in a pub. I had been there for a few hours with chums and I had, well I’d had one or two small glasses of Sherry. Okay, okay. I was drunk.

She appeared and was completely unchanged, as in still radiantly beautiful. Medium height, slim but with curves in a very good way, huge dark hair with blond streaks in it and the sort of Mediterranean good looks that would score highly at Eurovision. I still fancied her.

After the initial ‘It’s been so long! You look amazing’ we stomped off to meet up with her chums. They were protesting in Soho about a man’s right to kiss other men. We joined in, well we drank beer with them. It was very nice. I bumped into loads of people I knew.

Hours later the protest fizzled out and we went to a tiny little hidden club in Soho. It’s basically a door on the street, you go downstairs and it’s like being in a louche great-aunt’s living room. I LOVE this club. It was packed but we managed to grab some chairs, and another bottle of wine.

Some strangers sat near us and we got talking to them to about all sorts of things in a friendly way. It’s what this club is infamous for.

Penelope and I were the only people in our new expanded of new chums group who weren’t gay men and so the gays started talking about the chemistry Penelope and I had and tried to pair us off.

We did that sort of ‘oh gosh this is awkward’ smile at each other which only encouraged them.

The gay men started planning our wedding and how many kids we would have. They had our entire future mapped out for us by the time the wine was gone. Apparently one of our children will be a classical musician, one an artist and the third will go into finance.

If you want something planned. See the gays.

Everyone wanted to go to another club and so we went, bumping into Biscuit and Jen outside.

The club we went into was called. G.A.Y. I’m sure you can imagine what it is like.

It had one of those screens where you can text messages to and they appear. This kept Biscuit, Jen and I amused for, well hours. There was more drinking.

Penelope had disappeared after buying a bottle of wine and we couldn’t find her. We looked everywhere, although mostly focusing at the bottoms of glasses of booze.

Some time later it was time to stumble home. I was so ruined that Biscuit and Jen had to herd me around the place and I fell asleep a couple of times in the cab. CLASSY.

When we did get home Penelope had texted me saying we should have said goodbye and that we should meet up again. I’d like that. I’ve always got time to hang around with beautiful, interesting women who don’t seem to fancy me.

It’s kind of my thing.

Marriage percentage: 50% – No seriously, if she had ever been even slightly interested in me we would have ended up married years ago.

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