WARNING MASSIVE SPOILERS
(Although since this is the end, is it really a spoiler?)
In 2010, two people who could be charitably described as morons started a blog. The blog was based around a frankly stupid bet to see who could get married first. Real life married. There were rules, but it took them a while to work out what they would be.
The berks even went to America to meet ladies but in the end the both found love a lot closer to home. One way of looking at it is that both of them won because they both grew-up and found the perfect person for them.
But that’s not entirely correct because Toast won the bet. In your face, Biscuit of 2010.
The Big Day for Toast
The Theatre Producer and I had decided to keep things as casual and calm as possible in the run up to the wedding. Even with a strict, ‘no getting stressed’ policy things got a bit fraught towards the end. We’d both had very little sleep because we’d been doing things in the evenings.
Fun things like making our rings, having intensive dance lessons for our first dance and making other wedding related flim-flam, but were both extremely tired.
We’d had a flurry of last-minute ideas for the wedding which required careful designing of crosswords, pouring things into tiny bottles or coming up with an interesting conversation starting fact about every single guest. Neither of us managed to to sleep before 2am for a week before.
On wedding-eve TP went to her parents house. I stayed at our home, enjoying my final night as a single chap with my brother.
We drank cider and ate dirty fried chicken while watching telly. There was a plan to go the pub but a footballery match was on so the local pub was all shouty.
Off to the wedding
The next day I woke up reasonably early and forced my brother to go for a run with me. I like running, he’s not 100% on-board with it, but understands it’s a thing he has to do with me.
After only a small amount of grumbling we set off, stomping through monsoon style rain to Regent’s Park and back. Chatting occasionally but mostly wheezing. The final section was limped but we managed it. As a reward for our good work we went for a posh brunch and ate a lot of bacon.
Once we’d cooled off a bit we got changed, washed, and bundled up all the things we’d need for the wedding (suits, shoes, ties, tie-pins and various other bits and bobs) before headed to Waterloo to get the train.
We arrived at the station ten minutes before our train left but the queues were huge and full of people who couldn’t understand how ticket machines work. Luckily at the station we bumped into a few of the wedding guests who were in a very jolly mood.
One of the guests decided to skip the ticket queue by loudly declaring that I was going to miss my wedding if I didn’t get a ticket right this minute. People smiled and stood aside to let her buy tickets for all of us. I felt like a king, a slightly sheepish one but thanks to the wedding guest’s actions we did get on the train in time.
On the train the guests and my brother drank booze while I fidgeted and told myself off for not having written my speech yet.
When we arrived everyone disappeared off to their hotels to change. My brother scampered off to his hotel to get into his suit and I sat down and finally wrote out my speech.
I had a good few jokes already worked out but I’ve was struggling with sentimentality. It makes me uncomfortable so I tend to go for silly instead. Most of my time spent hunched over the little desk in the room was spent trying to put feelings into the speech. I sort of managed it in the end.
My brother appeared sooner than I expected. I had to jump into my suit and we got a lift off MyLoveLifeInYourHands to the venue.
It was at this point that it felt real. Not just a blog. Not just a silly idea, but real. There were people there, and a really big room to put them in.
There was only a brief moment to chat to official types and make sure the people doing readings had their notes before I had to go and stand at the front of a room with my back to everyone. My bother and MyLoveLifeInYourHands were stood next to me in coordinating suits for moral support.
The rest of the venue was packed out with our friends and relatives. The room rumbled with the sound of 130 people trying to be as quiet as possible while they waited for the music to start.
Of course someone’s phone went off, with a comedy ringtone.
The long pause
We were waiting for a while. TP was late, but there was also a minor issue with the music for her to walk in with. Biscuit couldn’t get it to play. After some swearing and a bit of hitting the grumpy sound system sprang into life and started honking out the appropriate tunes.
The doors opened and The Theatre Producer walked in looking amazing. Only I didn’t know this because the photographer had told me to not turn around and look so I could only hear sighs and the soft rustle as she approached the front of the room.
It was only then that I noticed the beautiful medieval tapestries lining the room were actually depicting a pig being slaughtered. How romantic!
After what felt like forever, I was finally given clearance to look at TP. Only she wasn’t TP any more, she was the person who was about to become my wife.
The ceremony was short but perfect. If you cut all the religious nonsense out of the way it’s a fairly simple job of repeating some lines and then signing a book. It was lightly spiced with three excellent readings. I’ll put the links to them here.
There was a lot of giggling, because the situation was so strange. The Theatre Producer and I do many interesting things together, but one of them is not solemnly look at each other, holding hands and loudly declare things.
We managed it with only the absolute minimum of giggling and everyone cheered. There was even a kiss.
After the ceremony we walked out and people blew loads of bubbles. Confetti was banned at the venue so we went with bubbles instead. Bubbles worked.
The guests finally got to have a drink and TP and I posed for a range of pictures. Some sensible (various mixes of family and ushers/bridesmaids) and the silly, including a couple posing with axes and one where TP was being a bridezilla chasing the entire wedding party. I can’t wait to see that shot.
While this was happening the guests milled around the gardens drinking cocktails, eating ice-cream and playing some extremely aggressive games of croquet.
The next stage lovely meal with all my favourite people in a room. We’d spent hours, no days working on the table settings.
People were carefully sat next to strangers, ones we were sure would become firm friends and whole tables were designed to have a good mix of interesting types. During the meal I didn’t sit down much and instead walked from table to table catching up with people, some of whom I don’t get to see very often.
It was lovely, but also a little strange because you don’t really get to talk to anyone for very long. Just flit around having snatched conversations.
It may be your wedding, but it some ways it feels like you’re not really there.
After the meal were the speeches, which were all excellent, short and extremely funny.
People had been briefed that bad speeches would be interrupted with a klaxon. They all performed brilliantly, mine went okay. I wasn’t that stressed about it, the thing I really feared was the first dance. I was terrified of the first dance.
I hate the awkward shuffle of the traditional first dance, so TP and I had got dance lessons. 5 hours of dance lessons, we’d learned the foxtrot.
Our instructor was forgiving and seem pleased with our progress but I was terrified of messing up the steps.To make things worse, TP’s dress was considerably larger than the one we’d practised with. It kept pushing me away.
We managed it though, even the fancy moves we’d requested in a fit of overconfidence and while I don’t think we would have won a dancing contest we would have been comfortably mid-pack, in the beginners section, of a small seaside town, where people don’t dance, and the judges are drunk, and short-sighted and we’ve bribed them.
Now that dance out of the way I could relax a bit more and catch up with old friends over drinks and observe the construction of the least impressive bomb I think I’ve ever seen. It was made out of party poppers so it didn’t have much to go on but I don’t think there is much a future in fireworks for the people who made it. Still it kept them amused for a few hours.
There was a lot more dancing. Dance cards were supplied for every guest and people were enjoying filling them out. Everyone seemed to have lovely time, apart from the people organising the ceilidh who had to physically herd people around the dance floor. Everyone was very enthusiastic but not very competent.
At about midnight the party stopped, or at least paused.
The venue closed. We got a car back to our honeymoon suite but the rest of the gang got a bus to their hotel and bravely partied on until at least 4.30am. Including a final burst of champagne when a minimum spend was needed at the last-minute and one guest splashed out on a few bottles to get the bar tab high enough.
The next day most of the party joined us for a bacon-based brunch and to re-cap what happened the night before. This was the time when most people signed the guest book, they’d been too smashed the night before. We also spent some time examining the photos and trying to piece together events from the last 12 hours.
All in all it was an excellent day. 10/10, A+, Would recommend to friends.
Lessons learned (over the course of the whole blog)
- If you want to meet someone right you have to meet a lot of people, like loads, and go on many dates.
- Even if those dates don’t work out, you’ll make lots of friends.
- Complete strangers will help you out with stuff if it’s in the name of marriage.
- Internet dating is the normal now.
- But everyone pretends on dates that they are new to it and they’re just trying it out because a friend insisted they do.
- If I make a bet with someone, I’m going to win it.
- Writing a blog really can change your life.
The talk last night went very well, and not just because we had bongos. There was a stellar line-up including brilliant original stuff from MyLoveLifeInYourHands, Joel Golby, Nell Frizzell and Craig Taylor. There was a lot of laughter and quite bit of pity, especially the latter for the stuff Biscuit and I performed.
If you missed the show you can catch up on what we performed here:
- Biscuit told this excellent story involving dwarf porn, lego and accidental winky texts
- I stuttered through the tragic story of a lovely lady I met at a film party, how I messed things up, and then made them even worse.
The bongos worked pretty well, although our bongoist Phil (who is a professional drummer that we met in the bar) got a bit distracted and didn’t quite bong as much as we would have liked. Still the rareness of the bongs made them all the more precious.
I also learned that when you own a set of bongos you can guarantee that you are the worst person on any form of public transport, FACT.
Someone having a loud conversation on a phone? BONGO Not any more. Smelling the carriage up with stinky food? BONGO They’ll get off an the next stop. I even had some scary looking dude cross the road to avoid me as I bongo my way home from the bus. RESULT.
I’ve had to hide the bongos from myself so I don’t get drunk on bongo power, it’s a constant danger.
So here’s a thing. We’re doing another blog reading. This one won’t be a fierce competition and hopefully Biscuit won’t decide to read a long story about periods, but we will be live, reading some stuff and you can come and laugh at our faces. In fact we’d like it if you did.
More importantly it’s being organised by the excellent Kit Lovelace of MyLoveLifeInYourHands fame (remember the dude we went to New York with) and will feature a load of other also excellent people reading funny things about relationships.
Not sold yet?
This will also be a rare chance to see proof that Biscuit isn’t dead and if you felt the need to heckle him about not writing more posts, well I wouldn’t have a problem with that*
If that’s not enough to tempt you there will be bongo action, a selection of hats and at least a couple of jokes that were considered too rude for Radio 4.**
If you say you like the blog we may even buy you a drink.
*Please do this after the show, heckling during a performance is an awful habit.
Long-time readers will have noticed that the chap who is MyLoveLifeInYourHands has popped up in this blog a few times. Because of his column we went to America and had a jolly good time, we’ve gone out lots of times and it’s because of him Biscuit and I met The Fleet Street Fox. So far so good, right?
However his column has also been the source of some woe due to the pesky voting of the readers of the Guardian.
Before the Theatre Producer and I started dating she met up with MyLifeLifeInYourHands with some other chums. They had a lovely time and what would happen next was put to the dastardly readers of the Guardian.
Out of the three girls that had been at karaoke, they voted that he should go on a date with The Theatre Producer. We weren’t actually dating at the time so I could do little but fume from a distance.
The Theatre Producer, or Laura as she was known in the column then went off to America (I blogged about it a bit), but the evil readers of the Guardian wouldn’t let that get in the way. So a ‘video date‘ was arranged.
At this point I was reading up on the Irish Duelling code, but I thought with the ‘video date’ out of the way I was safe.
No, no I wasn’t the frankly evil readers of the Guardian decided that another date was in order.
Thankfully by then The Theatre Producer and I were officially an item and she was rendered immune to the powers of the nefarious readers. No-one had to get stabbed with an épée so it all worked out in the end.
And that is how the readers of the Guardian nearly ruined my love life.
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%
Last night there was a small gathering of some of the regular characters on the blog. MyLoveLifeInYourHands was around with the visiting Marni (also known as Blossom on this blog), FleetStreetFox was celebrating her birthday and some of the Schwingalong Girls were out.
I had invited the Theatre Producer along too. We were going a fancy pants party, but it didn’t start till later so we joined the gang in a pub for a few drinks before the bash.
There was a lot of giggling. The girls were all exceedingly well dressed, lots of floaty dresses, power pencil skirts and some-what optimistically shorts. Optimistic because the weather hasn’t been exactly great.
Everyone got on very well.
The whole affair was terribly pleasant, but also had a hint of MyLoveLifeInYourHands and I presenting girls we like to Her Royal Foxyness for judgement.
I had tried to get Biscuit to appear too with Jen (who has already been fox-judged) but he made up some rubbish excuses.
After a few drinks the Theatre Producer and I walked over to our swanky party. There was free champagne and a BBQ with proper grown-up food. Not tiny canapés. This was a very pleasant surprise and so we set about eating and drinking slightly too much while playing ‘Is that a famous person?’
While we were playing this game the bar ran out of pink champagne, so we had to slum it and switch to normal coloured champagne. Tough times.
Some time later we went back to the Theatre Producers place, which incidentally is a proper grown-ups house rather than the ‘Lost Boys nest’ that Biscuit and I live in.
She gave me the presents she’d got me in America, they were all silly, pointless and lovely. The stand-out items were three water-pistols that were shaped like dinosaurs. She said she’d got three so she, Biscuit and I could use them at the same time. I thought that was unbelievably sweet.
We chatted, I was given the guided tour and ended up staying the night.
The next morning I quizzed her on important facts. I’d already decided that I wanted her to be my girlfriend so I was just clearing up some final details which included her views on white chocolate, avocados, robots and David Bowie’s trousers in Labyrinth.
She passed all the questions and so I asked her, “So Theatre Producer, will you be my totally awesome girlfriend?’
She said yes. She also said that she’d never been properly asked out like that before. Men of the world, up your game.
When she was out of the room making me a cup of tea I punched the air and said ‘Yesssssssssss’.
Marriage percentage: 56% – Steadily rising.
Biscuit should start looking decidedly nervous if he has any sense.
Having resolved to return to gentlemanly conduct (after my shocking behaviour on my date with Shannon) I had my next date with Jen to arrange. We bounced around a few possibilities then settled on a comedy night that Toast and I were going to with a few chums. This would be our fourth date.
Jen met us at home and travelled to the club with us. When we arrived, most of the gang was already there, including MyLoveLifeInYourHands and Fuckwittery. It emerged afterwards that I had neglected to mention there would be other people there and this caught Jen on the hop slightly.
As we sat down, I noticed to my amusement that I had done naughty things with all three girls at the table. This was not lost on Toast either who took a serupticious photograph of me with all my ‘wives’ as he put it.
I have since realised that this was the first time in this wager that I had introduced any of my dates to my friends. I hadn’t even given this any thought because Jen is such a gregarious person that I hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t get on with everyone. If she was nervous about meeting people she didn’t show it.
When we grabbed our seats Jen was sat next to MyLoveLifeInYourHands and the two of them quickly hit it off, even with some Hugh Grant style bumbling from MyLoveLifeInYourHands when he touched Jen’s knee by accident and got into a cycle of earnest hurried apologies. Fuckwittery excitedly enthused to us “Oh my god you talk the same!!!” after Jen used a phrase she’s picked up from me.
I met Toast’s sister later that evening and I’m still utterly baffled as to why she might have thought I was a womaniser as I’d been nothing but polite!
We watched the comedy. Some of the acts were very good. Some were rubbish. One was so bad that I had to hide my own face to cover the mortification of being party to such an atrocity. I was worried that I might be called to The Hague and be found complicit in crimes against hunmanity due to my silent participation.
Watching live comedy is a great gauge of someone’s personality as you can see whether they find jokes about Hitler, casual racism or cocks funny and see how comfortable they are letting go and laughing in public. If the night was a test, which it wasn’t, then Jen would have passed with honours, a lollipop and a gold star. She’s got a outgoing, miscreant sense of humor that often seems to be bestowed upon those that were raised in the North (of England, not the pole).
In further testament to her joie de vivre, when the comedy was finished asd we were all set to head off home she was the only one who was keen to stay for the late night disco. However we were all sleepy and it was a Thursday night so we sauntered off home for bed.
I am not very functional in the mornings, it would be fair to say that I struggle. As Jen was awake before me she was doing all sorts of nice things and extracting what little conversation she could from me. When she asked if we’d also arranged to meet Saturday (which was the following day) because she that had been on the cards in the organising stage, I mumbled “sort that out when I wake up properly”. After dragging myself to the shower to force myself into consciousness I did a lot of thinking.
I really like Jen and I didn’t want to give her the impression that I was being evasive or wasn’t interested, I just wanted to take things slowly as I value my ‘boy time’ (this might involve xbox with Toast) and don’t want to make the mistake of rushing into this. After the shower I made us a cup of tea and sat her on the sofa for a chat (it seems that a cup of tea is mandatory for any chats).
I took a deep breath and started my measured explanation, which went something like this:
“I don’t mean to seem evasive about seeing you on Saturday. I do enjoy spending time with you, I’m just very cautious after being well and truly burned by my last girlfriend. There’s also been a couple of people that I’ve been interested in but didn’t end well.
This is the first time I’ve really done ‘dating’ and I’ve been on a LOT dates over the last year or so but all the relationships I’ve had to date have happened really quickly from the outset. I’ve never done that progression from dating into relationship so I’m not really sure how it works.
Basically I’ve been WAAYYY too keen a few times recently and have then suddenly lost interest. I don’t want to do this with you as I really like you so I’m trying to be calm and measured. That’s why I’d rather see you in another week or so rather than tomorrow, I’m just trying to get things right this time”
Jen looked a little relieved and said that her last relationship was about 9 months ago and she was very guarded too. If I had been talking about any sort of commitment at this stage then there would be a Jen-shaped hole in the front door. She wouldn’t consider any sort of relationship without at least three months of dating first.
She said it would be really helpful to know if I was seeing anyone else too as she had a couple of people asking her out. I answered that I had been but I had already decided to stop because it all gets a bit confusing for me and I don’t want to put myself in a position where there were two people I liked at once. Apparently there had been three other people she was seeing at first but as soon as we did naughty stuff she knocked the others on the head, so I had sort of won the competition I didn’t know I was in.
It was such a relief to have got that all into the open and we both slumped exhausted on the sofa to finish our tea. This is the first time I have got this far with someone during the wager. It feels really promising but also slightly scary too, as I’ve no idea how I’m going to deal with the prospect of trusting someone enough to risk the kind of gut-wrenching fallout I went through with Cupcake.
After all this I promised to come and see Jen at her place the following weekend as she had made all the travelling effort so far. This is kind of a big deal as it involves going outside of the M25 and EVERYTHING! I must really like this one.
Marriage percentage: Still a solid 53%.
After seeing Claudia off to the Subway station and getting a grilling from Toast and MyLoveLifeInYourHands for my behaviour, we discovered that we had an extra day in New York. Toast has already covered that revelation and some of what we did during the day.
At some point I’d like to share some of the hypothetical questions that the other were posing to try and work out which of the girls I should marry. I won’t go through them here as they deserve a post in themselves but I will say I objected at the point that the questions turned to “The three of them are trapped in a burning building by a girder that has fallen on all three of their ankles. You have a hacksaw…”.
Boys are sick.
Seeing as how I had bailed out on Kim the previous night, I arranged to see her that evening. I even left a party and had to negotiate replacement subway busses in a journey which ended up taking about 90 minutes, but not before having some fun at Toast’s expense in revenge for the merciless questioning he’d given me on the ferry.
There was a lady at the party who Toast knew and had specifically banned me from kissing. This wasn’t a problem as I had no intentions of kissing anyone after my conduct over the previous week. His chum was such a good laugh that I ended up ‘fessing up about my actions and the fact that Toast had banned me from kissing her, which she thought was rather lovely and protective of him.
My revenge came because Toast spent the whole time throwing me ‘don’t you dare’ looks from the other side of the room. Tee hee!
When I arrived a Kim’s she was spending the night with her housemate recovering after the events of the preceding evening. Things felt slightly strained between us and I wondered if this was anything to do with having bailed on her the previous night. Eventually her housemate went to bed and Kim and I moved onto the same sofa.
Then Kim did something entirely unexpected: she turned the telly on. I found this a little confusing as she had specifically said that I should go over to see her. Resigning myself to the rubbish American teen show I laid down on the sofa and put my head in her lap where I eventually started to doze off. Had if not been for the TV this would have been an entirely agreeable situation.
It was a sleepy last night in New York and a lazy morning kissing and talking about music and photography. There were some goodbye hijinks and we gave each other a big hug before I had to leave to catch the flight.
Marriage percentage: 33%
I was confused by the TV move but I probably deserved a lot worse considering my behaviour the previous night.
Mostly I was sad that I had to leave and that it would be very tricky for me to see any of the girls in the near future.
Lesson learned: I heart New York.
Having accidentally (but happily) gained myself a promised American wife AND having been on a great couple of dates with Kim, I felt that this qualified the New York trip as an unmitigated success beyond my expectations. I specifically wasn’t looking to kiss any more girls.
As Saturday was (supposed to be) our last night in the the city, I had arranged to see Kim after work for drinking on the town and had invited Toast and MyLoveLifeInYourHands to join me after we’d had our fill at the brewery. I knew that Kim was planning for a messy night as she had some naughty pills that she was planning to share with a friend but thought it would still be fun.
You probably already know what happened, since Toast has spilled the greatest spoiler since revealing the end of Titanic: I kissed a girl.
I have several points in my defence but nothing that really excuses the behaviour:
- She looked like a young Claudia Winkleman.
- She had an initial air of ‘bemused quizzical indifference’ that piques my interest (in a Ramona Flowers style).
- The moment I heard her accent I fancied her.
- She had an adorable laugh and beautifully coy but sincere smile
- She saved my beer from being stolen TWICE.
- She looks hot in a balloon hat.
As I had arranged to meet Kim I held back from kissing her several times when the moment was conducive to it. The tension was becoming almost intoxicating, but I also knew that there was an outside chance that Kim might be joining us if her plans didn’t work out.
I got some increasingly mashed messages from Kim saying that her plans were all on and we should join her. By this point I was rather mashed myself and having way too much fun with present company to want to negotiate the subway network for the best part of an hour.
Eventually I got a slightly garbled message saying that she was staying out and I should join her. It was shortly afterwards that I kissed Claudia. Toast was making us pose for a photo looking wantonly into each other’s eyes. I can’t remember the scenario but the basic premise on Toast’s part was get me to kiss her.
We spent a lot of time talking whilst the others played pool in the next bar. I had already decided to stay. I felt really torn but I knew I wasn’t leaving Kim by herself and I was a little reticent to go given that she had obviously taken the naughty pills (yes, I clearly am attempting to justify my actions).
In a moment that almost made me melt because it felt like something straight out of a trashy American teen film, I had paused mid conversation and was just looking at her when she raised her eyebrow and said “I know that look, you want to make out don’t you?”.
‘Make out’! I’ve never heard that term used in its native context before!
We did make out and it was very good making out indeed. However it was making out in a bar and I think we had already breached the etiquette of the situation. As the others were all happilly engaged in pool and fledgling bar brawls I said “soooo… would you like to go and make out somewhere else?”
That’s how we ended up with a house guest the following morning.
After we had all had morning tea and I had walked Claudia to the subway station, I sat back in the appartment and said to the others “Oh god, I’m such a bad person”. Toast replied “You’re not a bad person, you’re just acting exactly like one”.
At no point have I ever gone out with the express intention of kissing girls and I’ve never kissed any girls or done naughty things just for the sake of it. With all of them I’ve seen potential for something more than hijinks. This however, does not stop me feeling like something of a womaniser.
Perhaps I’m just not ready for the power that an English accent bestows whilst in the States.
Marriage percentage: 35%. I can’t believe I’ve met three people who I would happily pursue a relationship with in the space of a week. I’m still not entirely sure how it’s all happened.
Lesson learned: Applebee’s really does have the WORST coffee I have ever tasted.
The day started rather late. Biscuit had appeared at about 9-ish looking and interesting combination of sheepish and pleased with himself. There was no sign of MyLoveLifeInYourHands.
Biscuit and I wanted to go shopping. Our chum still hadn’t appeared by midday and he wasn’t answering his phone so gave up waiting and set off out to see New York. We only had one key which made things more complicated but we figured that MyLoveLifeInYourHands was a big boy and could look after himself.
He called us back when we were just about to get on the subway and then appeared so we gave him the keys and set off out. It was a lovely warm day and Biscuit and I spent far too much money on things we didn’t need and saw some more things we’d always wanted to see.
The plan for this evening was to meet up with a girl who MyLoveLifeInYourHands had met on our first night in New York city. There was a brewery tour and then a bar afterwards. This seemed like a good plan.
We wanted to drop our shopping off before we went out so we had to co-ordinate a meeting with MyLoveLifeInYourHands near the flat. This didn’t go exactly to plan. He was lost somewhere in South Brooklyn and had the only keys to the flat. Biscuit and I waited on the steps for a bit until it was too cold and then went for the worst coffee I’ve ever had in Applebee’s.
MyLoveLifeInYourHands appeared and we went back to the flat to drop off bags and freshen up. Refreshed, we hopped on the subway up to the brewery and then waited in a queue for ages. We were about two hours late and were stuck in a queue that had formed. Yes we struggled to organise a piss-up in a brewery.
Eventually we got inside, poured amazingly cheap beer into our faces and then tried to find the girls MyLoveLifeInYourHands knew. We found them and started to get very drunk. They were pretty, and also tiny, so we towered over them.
Biscuit instantly took a shine to one of them and started making balloon hats for her. I have now learned that this is foreplay for Biscuit.
We stayed in the brewery drinking and larking around for well, ages. I think, until it had closed actually.
I can remember it getting really empty suddenly and someone with a broom asking us to leave.
MyLoveLifeInYourHands had been talking to one of the girls who had really curly hair and Biscuit had almost kissed the one he liked. We found out later that MyLoveLifeInYourHands snogged his curly-haired friend near the loos.
I had been happily chatting away to the third girl, who was the one MyLoveLifeInYourHands met on our first night. She was small with brown eyes and had her hair tightly tied back into a bun. She had a surprisingly deep voice.
We went to another bar nearby that had a pool table. MyLoveLifeInYourHands and Biscuit were supposed to be meeting Blossom and Kim respectively later in the evening. Both of them had now kissed at least one of the Brewery girls at this point.
Then we got introduced to triple kissing. It’s when three people kiss at once, not with tongues or anything. We were drunk, there were various demonstrations of how it works. Let me just state two things.
1) One of the girls said she had never triple kissed with two boys before, it seemed impolite to refuse that request.
2) I understand now why some girls don’t like kissing men with stubble.
Lets move on.
MyLoveLifeInYourHands and I played pool with two of the girls. Mixed teams, it was a surprisingly close match. He was probably the best player but his team-mate was triumphantly bad so it balanced out. She may have been playing extra bad so that MyLoveLifeInYourHands would lean over her and show her how to hold a pool stick.
I ended up kissing one of the brewery girls as part of the celebrations from potting four balls in a row. Yeah, you heard me, four balls, in a row. She said I smelled nice but kept doing an awful faux-English accent that made my ears sad.
A man tried to start a fight with me when I politely asked him to move so a brewery girl could take a shot. He got all offended and started doing the ‘strong gaze’ and mumbling threats.
I just looked back at him nonchalantly because I was mashed and not entirely sure what was going on. His friends dragged him out of the pub and we didn’t see him again. This probably looked cooler than it was.
In the mean time Biscuit had been snogging his new friend at a table. It was a very kissy evening. At some point MyLoveLifeInYourHands disappeared off to meet up with Blossom. Biscuit jumped in a cab back to the flat with his new friend. Poor Kim.
I stayed with the remaining two girls and we went on a pub crawl. I got a lot of secondary abuse from the girls because MyLoveLifeInYourHands had disappeared into the night. Apparently he should have stayed because he would have got some.
There was a bit more kissing, when appropriate, but eventually we left the bar and got cheese sandwiches from a deli.
I jumped in a cab and headed back to the flat. The cab driver had no idea where he was going and a 5 minute journey ended up taking 20 minutes which was probably for the best so I didn’t catch Biscuit doing something rude with his new friend on the sofa.
Eventually I crashed into bed absolutely ruinously drunk.
It wasn’t really a date but I’ll give a marriage percentage for the Brewery girl: 5% She was cute and quite good fun but the near constant faux-English accent made me wish I was deaf.
The cheese sandwich was amazing though. I’d like to see it again.