Last night I went out with a chum, one who has decided she will be known as the Editor.
This was arranged ages and ages ago before I’d even met the Theatre Producer, before even the New York Trip.
But, well it just so happens that the Editor is the mutual friend who I know the Theatre Producer through. Life is weird sometimes eh?
Because of this there may have been a bit of polite information gathering going on in-between drinking galleons of champagne and downing oysters.
Yes, I know sometimes my interrogation methods can seem a bit tough but I get results.
I’m like the Jack Bauer of dating, but with better trousers.
Thursday. It’s often the best night out, Fridays have their moments too but I’m a Thursday kinda guy. There is something pleasingly louche about going out in an evening when you know you have work the next day.
This Thursday I had a date with a singer/song-writer/actress. We started chatting on Twitter about, well nonsense. After a few weeks the the vague suggestion of a drink was mentioned. Thursday was the day when our calenders finally matched up.
I had a cocktail thing in one bar and then a lavish launch of a TV show for later. Perfect for a night out. The cocktail thing was through my chum and so I met up with him for a drink first and then we went to the cocktail bar. The bar was near Soho and a little bit flash.
The first cocktail
We were just being served our first round of cocktails when The singer/song-writer/actress turned up. Let’s call her Rebecca. She was tall, very tall. with dark hair with blonde highlights. She was wearing a short, slightly floaty purple dress with a black jacket. Her hair wasn’t as big as it was in her music videos but she was recognisable.
We said hello and then started chatting with the other people at the party. We talked about all sorts of stuff occasionally breaking away from the group to chat about career related things before rejoining the group to talk about cocktails or dogs.
I was given a cocktail that had a chili draped over the edge as a garnish so I decided to eat it. It wasn’t too hot, then pleasantly warm, then ‘oh blimes’, then ‘oh dear’, then ‘Just kill my mouth to end my suffering’ before settling into a background level of pain. I didn’t cry but my eyes did get moist.
I’d used my poker face skills to not give this away. I think it must have worked because all the other chaps in the party started munching down on their chilis too and then also battled against showing pain because pretty girls were there.
We men are such prats sometimes.
After a while the rest of the group when on to another thing and we sat down at the bar for a more in-depth chat. It was pleasant, interesting and unguarded. I like chats like that. So much communication is so inconsequential it’s nice when you really talk to someone. We finished our drinks and hopped in a cab to the second part of the evening which was in a music bar.
Two bars, one night
We arrived and the place was busy but there wasn’t a person on the door. There wasn’t a press area or any sign of anything going on. After a bit of hunting around I tracked down the organiser. She was all flustered and said there wasn’t a press area but a band was turning up.
It didn’t appear to be the lavish party I’d been promised and had promised to Rebecca. Oh dear.
We got some drinks and sat down on a table with some other people who’d also been invited to party and who were also confused as to what was going on. Bitching about the lack of canapés is surprisingly bonding.
There were more drinks, and then more. A band appeared. They played amazingly while appearing to be stupendously bored. It was quite entertaining, for the two songs they played before disappearing.
We drank more.
The organiser had told us that a man in a pork-pie hat was going to appear and look after us a bit. So we waited for him while drinking more gin. We still hadn’t eaten anything so at this point we were luxuriously drunk.
Almost instantly it was time to catch the last train home.
Rebecca and I said goodbye to our party friends and waltzed off into the night, pausing only to buy chips before we got on the tube.
We got on the wrong tube so our goodbye was slightly rushed because Rebecca suddenly had to change lines. She texted me when she got home thanking me for a lovely evening.
I’d had a nice time. She was entertaining, interestingly complex and pretty. There weren’t any dramatic moments or startling insights just a nice evening.
Marriage percentage: 20% If I had met her six months ago I’m sure it would be tripled, but I’ve met so many amazing women in the last few months I’ve had to adjust my scale. Also, even though Biscuit is romping ahead with Jen I’m trying not to jump into anything.
I don’t want a repeat of The Consultant.
I had a date on Saturday to meet a girl for coffee. We met on The Strand. She was short and curvy, with long dark hair and very good eye-liner.
She was wearing a black dress with a black cardigan over the top.
We said our hellos and then strolled over to a nice coffee shop I know nearby. The conversation was easy and by the time our ridiculous cakes arrived we were giggling away about brass rubbings and plays.
She works in the theatre and so we were talking about things to do with that as well as the usual family/growing-up/plans for the future stuff.
There was a lot of laughing and the conversation flowed easily, I was having a lovely time.
I had to go home to do some work stuff so we parted ways with plans to meet up again in the week, possibly to see a show.
Normally I’d put a marriage percentage in here and it would have been reasonably high but I’d not accounted for the magic of Eurovision.
Later on that evening
I was doing my work stuff while she was at a Eurovision party with some gay friends. I had received a few text messages from her about the acts on Eurovision and had been replying when I could.
She invited me to join her and her chums at a super gay club after I’d finished working. I was pretty tired but we had got on before so perhaps it would be fun. Also, this blog makes you say yes to things.
At about 11:30 I had finally finished working so I changed into a better shirt and caught the tube over to the club.
While I was underground she had called a few times and sent some text messages. She was clearly mashed.
I turned up and she introduced me to her gay chums, one of whom looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t work out why.
We went inside and got some drinks. She kept pushing up against me. Not a subtle brush or a ‘whoops I didn’t mean to do that’ no this was just shy of a martial arts manoeuvre. I would back away to give her room and she would move closer.
I bought a round of drinks and chatted to her friends. That was when I recognised the faintly familiar one. He is in a band, quite a well known band (They’ve sold a million records), who I’ve seen perform earlier in the week. It really is a tiny world sometimes.
There was more chat, and she was drunkenly pressing up against me some more. The club was loud so I was talking into her ear, she kept trying to kiss me. Then she just asked if she could kiss me. I said okay. So we kissed.
She was really very kissy. Now I’m fine with public displays of affection but this was getting a bit out of control.
She was snogging my face off and trying to undress me. She managed to unbutton most of my shirt before I caught her. I felt sorry for the poor gays in the club, they didn’t want to see this.
She also kept saying how much she liked me. I think she said it about a dozen times, actually probably more than that.
We tried to do a bit of dancing but she was so interested in rubbing up against me that if I lifted one of my feet off the floor I was in danger of falling over. So when she suggested we leave I said okay.
We caught a cab back to her place. It was only a short journey but in that time she revealed her some-what disastrous dating history and how she’d manage to destroy a previous relationship by being to aggressively needy. Even in my slightly drunk state I realised that was a bit of a warning sign.
I toyed with the idea of asking the cab man to just take me home but I didn’t want to seem rude.
Back at the house
Back at her place she made me a lovely glass of water and told me she really liked me some more. As I’m sure you can guess things got a bit naked at this point.
The most alarming point of it all was when she tried to remove the condom because she wanted me to, well she wanted the thing that the condom stops to happen. I told her no, because that causes babies, she was noticeably put out by this.
Some time later we both fell asleep. My dreams all involved running away, from a fire, a flood and even spiders. This may have been my subconscious trying to tell me something.
The next morning I waited until about 9am and made my excuses and left.
Marriage percentage: 5% – If we’d just had the first date it would have been high but she was a so full on and the stuff with the condom was well, a bit scary.
If anyone needs me for the rest of the day I’ll be in the shower with all my clothes on rocking myself.
On Friday it was an old friend’s birthday. I’ve known her for years now, we almost kissed once but since then we’ve settled into an easy, honest friendship.
She is a Dominatrix.
Not the sort that just dresses up in leather and is a bit shouty, she is a serious Dominatrix.
I once asked her what she was doing in the evening and she said she was driving to Birmingham to sew up a man’s arsehole.
The mind boggles.
She is lovely though and working on her PhD so an pleasingly complex character, albeit a self confessed sadist.
Her birthday was in a club in East London and the dress code was 1940s. We arrived a bit late so the party was in full swing. Everyone had made a huge effort so the place looked amazing.
All the girls had Betty Page style fringes and feirce red lipstick. The men were mostly in suits some of them were even wearing gloves. My Dom chum had two slaves with her that night one who was her butler/driver and another who was sort of handmaid who would show his underpants on command. I was terribly impressed.
I chatted away to a few Doms about fetishes and the route of kinky stuff. One of them (who often works with my friend) as a real thing for copper. Yes the metal. I asked if brass would do, or perhaps bronze but no, it has to be copper. It made me a bit sad that I never carry any loose change.
We drank cocktails and talked nonsense with more people at the party. Biscuit made balloon moustaches for the ladies and a selection of rude hats for the men. There was a lot of drinking going on.
Biscuit pointed out that there was a person there who was exactly my type. Tall, leggy, strong features, good hair dark hair, clearly very clever and wearing a smashing frock. The only problem was it was a man.
Some time much later someone proposed to someone else with a Haribo ring. They accepted and paraded around the bar showing it off. This new couple then insisted that I propose to the girl I’d been chatting too. She was tall with thick black hair with a red bow in it and was wearing a wiggle dress.
The newly engaged couple were really quite insistent and so I was cajoled into proposing, with a Haribo ring. I can’t believe my first ever proposal was to a Dominatrix who I didn’t really know with fruit flavoured ring.
She accepted, on the condition of a very long engagement and then offered a ring to me. She didn’t use her hand, no she put it in her mouth and well, the exchange involved a bit more tongues that I expected.
It made Biscuit say ‘BLIMES’.
There was more drinking and talking but my fiancée and I parted ways because she was going off to a foot-fetish club and I wasn’t really in the mood to worship someone else’s feet. She was still wearing the ring as she got into the cab to leave.
I wish her well, but I think this is going to be an engagement I’ll have to back out of. I don’t even know her real name.
It had been a very strange evening.
The first half of this post is going to sound a bit stalker-ish but hold on it’s worth it.
Ages ago I got into an American TV show. So on Twitter I followed the writers and a few members of the cast including an extremely pretty woman.
She posted very amusing tweets, let’s call her Olivia because that’s not her name. Fairly normal so far.
Well over a year later I had a meeting with someone to discuss some business stuff. Nothing came of it but we got on and followed each other on Twitter. How modern.
Last week Olivia tweeted at the person I had a meeting about how she was coming to London and they should go out.
I saw this and thought ‘This blog has caused some amazing adventures, and the main lesson from it is just go for stuff, take a chance’.
Okay, I didn’t think exactly that I thought ‘OMG SHE IS COMING TO LONDON AND HE KNOWS HER I WONDER IF I CAN MEET HER’
So I emailed the guy and said this
Hi Mr Man,
I hope you are well.
I saw on Twitter that Olivia is going to visit your club on Thursday. I was wondering if it might be okay to pop in to say hello?
I’ve got such a crush on her, and it was a shame I missed her last time she was causing mayhem in London.
If it’s a off-the-radar visit for party times, so a bit of a no-no then I completely understand.
All the best,
He replied, and the key bit was
She is indeed fabulous – v good friend. Would be happy to introduce you. This thurs!
Bring a crew and I’ll sort you out a table if you like. On us. Then it’s not so obvious!
So he was going to introduce us. Huzzah! What a star!
The worst night ever
The plan was to meet at the club at 11. I had thing to do so I met up with my chums in a bar for a quick drink before going to the club. Biscuit was waiting outside with Jen.
We got into the VIP queue bit. The man in front of us got denied entry because he hadn’t booked. I told the door lady who I was and how I should be on a list somewhere.
She went away. For ages. And ages.
I got to stand around awkwardly while Biscuit, Jen and my chums looked me and said things ‘look it’s okay if we can’t get in we can find another club’.
They were only half joking.
The lady appeared and ushered us in. I had been told we’d have a table but there was no record of this. The man hadn’t turned up yet either.
We stood around and then bought some very, very expensive cocktails.
We drank them and the man still hadn’t turned up with Olivia. So we bought some more expensive cocktails.
The evening was starting to get very expensive. The club was rammed too, so people get bumping into us it, well it wasn’t that good an evening.
I apologised to everyone, I’d dragged them out to a busy club to spend a fortune on booze.
Then one of my chums suggested we get a huge cocktail to share. So we did. It involved a fireball. It was amazing. The fireball must have scared some people off because we suddenly had a table and a stupid drink.
The man tweeted me to say he was in the club with Olivia.
The best night ever
I tried to spot the man but I couldn’t see him so I circled the club a few times. No joy at all. Then, the sea of trustifarians parted and I saw him and I saw her.
She was much taller than I expected, and my word she was pretty. She was wearing black Basque-like top with a pink ruffled skirt, black tights and giant black heels. They were some serious shoes.
I said hello to the chap and he made the introductions. Olivia was extremely friendly. She complimented my trousers and asked to try a bit of my drink. She was quite tactile, but in a nice way.
A huge treasure chest of booze turned up with fireworks. We started drinking it and talking about how I knew the man and what she was doing here. You know little stuff.
Some more booze turned up on my chums table so went over and joined in the fun there. I was trying to play it cool of course.
Then I got Biscuit to make Olivia a balloon dog. It would be an understatement to say this was a big hit. She adored it and took loads of photos of us with the dog. Biscuit was then forced to make more and more balloon things including his infamous rude hat.
They went down brilliantly, more pictures were taken.
Olivia and I chatted some more, this time about you know, longer term plans and stuff. I said there would be dance off later, and while we might be friendly here there were no friends on the dance floor. She laughed.
Introduced her to my chums and she was perfectly charming. Jen said she thought Olivia was in to me. I tried not to get too excited.
I bounced between the two tables trying not to linger around her too often but really enjoying talking to Olivia about all sorts of stuff.
Play it cool Toast. Play it cool.
Rescuing a lady
Out of the blue another of the man’s friends grabbed me, a pretty red head with an extremely expensive haircut. She was with a chap who was being a bit forward and said she needed me to rescue her from him.
She asked me to save her so I did and we got chatting.
She had a boyfriend but was with another man who was being a bit weird. I said she could hide with us if she wanted so she joined our table. Introduced her to everyone and we got chatting.
She said I was cute. I said thank you. Then she said I smelled amazing. I said thank you again.
For a moment it looked like she was about to kiss me and then she pulled away and danced off into the club. I didn’t see her again but she had made a point of memorising my name from my business card.
After a few more drinks with my chums I returned to chatting to Olivia in a corner of the nightclub. We had really in-depth chat. She has a boyfriend, but he is new and she said she wasn’t so sure about him. We talked about boxing (she does it too) and a load of other things.
Proper things that you talk to people you properly know, not strange men in nightclubs who happen to have nice trousers.
Teaching an iPhone to pretend to be a Blackberry
She made me install an app on my phone so we could chat like people do with Blackberries, and entered her phone number into my phone. She also made me tweet a special keyword at her so she could follow me back.
We went out for a cigarette, she smoked I was just company, and talked some more about things, about London and hidden things and relationships.
I have to admit my memory is a bit hazy but at the time (I was utterly mashed by this point) I remember thinking it was nice and that she was really interesting. Really, really clever. Clever is good.
There was more drinking and more dancing, possibly a bit of a dance off. More photos were taken of us together, on her phone. There were a lot of photos that night.
It was 3am and the club was closing.
We said goodbyes, with great sadness. She said that she was working all day but that we should try to go out again before she leaves.
Biscuit, Jen and I got into a cab and went home. I had three hours of sleep and then had to go to work still drunk. It was totally worth it.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. Of course I’d love to, but even if I don’t I think that’s fine too, in it’s own way. We had one perfect magical London evening and sometimes that’s enough.
- Forcing Biscuit to make things out of balloons to impress girls always works.
- Asking random people to do you a big favour also works.
- It’s possible to sort of go on a date with almost anyone if you set your mind to it.
- London is amazing. Just Amazing.
- Everyone loves a dance-off.
I have lots of female friends. I’m not showing off or anything, I’m just stating it as a fact.
They are great because you can ask them why a girl you are dating did something weird, they are often more willing to go clothes shopping and they are generally more up for a dance off.
Also you can provide them useful things in return, insight into the male mind, fixing things and help lifting heavy objects.
I love my female chums, no that’s not quite right, I treasure them.
I think any chap who thinks guys can’t be friends with girls (or the other way around) is a fool and they are closing themselves off to a whole world of fun.
Yes there is occasionally the little sparkle of something else there when you hang around with them but that just adds a bit of extra fizz to the friendship, like the bubbles on top of a glass of champagne.
This post isn’t a party political broadcast though. It’s a record of what happened last night.
How I learned to jive badly
I’ve made some new chums in the past few weeks, it’s one of the best things about London. You never know who you’re going to bump into or which chance encounter is going to turn into a friendship.
There is an actress. She is a friend of a friend, or she was. Biscuit and I went and saw her in a play. She was terribly good and we had a brief slightly awkward chat afterwards before we went off to another bash. She is a small brunette with massive, expressive eyes and an excellent fringe.
A few days later I was at an event and she appeared. Loads of other people were there but we spent most of the night talking nonsense, got incredibly drunk and had a great time. When the party ended we (a group of us) went to a restaurant. There may have been some dancing. It was one of those perfect Soho moments.
She has a boyfriend who she lives with so it’s not line any sort of nonsense was planned, and there were other people there so it was just a jolly lovely time.
We went out again on Friday. She had been drinking all day with a chum. I rocked up after work and joined in the drinking. Everyone was pleasantly mashed. Some of the chums left because they were ruined and we ambled on to a restaurant. There wasn’t any dancing, it was quite a sensible meal really.
The point where the levels of fizz become dangerous
After the excellent food the rest of the people left.
She called her boyfriend to ask, on a scale of 1 to 10 how much trouble would she be in if she stayed out for a few more drinks. He said 1 and so we ended up in a club.
I ordered some drinks. The man messed up our order and so we got a double round. Then the dancing began. She pranced onto the dance floor and did some moves, after the song finished she got a standing ovation from the entire club.
I was taught how to jive, I picked it up reasonably fast and soon I was flinging her around the dance floor. I only fell over twice and I didn’t smash any glasses which is a personal best for me.
Every time a rubbish song would come on we’d stop, sip cocktails and down pints of water and ice. The club was really warm, really really warm. Her hair got a bit messed up and I took my jacket off (I was wearing a suit).
At one point she started up a limbo and we got complete strangers to join in.
There was a lot of dancing, and a bit of drinking but mostly dancing. We made a pact that if she becomes a mega celebrity I have to become a professional dancer so we can win Strictly Come Dancing together. I think, provided I can get enough practice in we would do okay.
Some time, much later we stumbled onto the last tube home, sweaty but laughing like morons.
I parted ways with rushed hug as I changed tube lines. There wasn’t a hint of any sort of nonsense, but after conferring with Biscuit he said I had to write about it because while it wasn’t a date date it had some of the same properties of a nice date.
Something could be about to begin, or not. It’s complicated, but in a nice way. Just like the best friendships between men and women.
7 nights: 1 city, 1 spouse to find. Despite resembling extras from The Walking Dead when we arrived in the country, we dragged ourselves out through a combination of caffeine and peer pressure. Time is short after all and we are on a mission.
Toast has briefly chronicled the kooky bar that we found ourselves in, still jet lagged and bewildered. Within a few minutes of being there I had seen pretty much everyone there and was furtively throwing glances at a pretty Asian girl who had caught my eye and I clearly fancied more than anyone else there.
I eventually got a chance to talk to ‘Kim’ and was bewitched by her delicious accent, asymmetric hipster styled haircut and cheeky smile. By the time we’d left I had her contact details scribbled on a scrap of paper (because I had managed to leave my phone in England) and had set up a date for Tuesday.
Monday night was uneventful as Toast and I crashed out for 12 hours sleep so Tuesday seemed to come quite quickly.
Edit, I forgot about this little gem of info: I warmed up for the date in the excellent bar that Toast’s OK Cupid contact recommended. The toilets in it were even so nice that I would have happily rented it as a tiny apartment. Fearing that we had been wandering the streets a little while and I was just off to meet a girl, I thought I’d take the opportunity for a quick ‘freshen up’ before the date. I’ve mentioned this kind of pre-date freshen up before. Thankfully I can now immediately tell the difference between squirty soap and squirty alchohol gel by texture.
I can’t, however, tell the difference between normal squirty hand soap and super cooling minty eucalyptus squirty soap. I minced back to Toast somewhat gingerly and sat there with a pained expression on my face for about 5 minutes. I felt complelled to explain my mistake.
Since ‘MyLoveLifeInYourHands’ was in Washington I left Toast to wander the streets whilst I went to meet my date.
Kim came straight from work and was wearing an endearing huge fluffy hat and working the smile overtime as she bounded towards me. We set of for a restaurant to grab some food.
At her behest we stopped by a comic shop and I found out she used skate. I tried my best not to go all doe eyed as she was racking up massive kudos.
We had the choice of a HUGE Mexican meal or a HUGE burger so had a quick snowball fight in the park across the road to decide and settled on Mexican with the proviso that we drank margaritas, which seemed like a reasonable deal to me.
Something started to feel very familiar.
The margaritas were huge, I mean seriously HUGE. They were so big that I took a picture of one next to Kim’s face to show how huge it was. It was then I had my realisation; I had been on this date before.
I was sat in a Mexican restaurant with a Filipino girl armed with enough margarita to give even Rasputin a bit of a gyppy tummy. This was exactly the setup of one of my first dates on the wager.
The date became pleasantly silly and we were practicing left-handed writing to see who would be the best at sending ransom notes or something.
Somehow we eventually beat the Sisyphean task (the man who had to push the boulder up the hill forever) of finishing the margaritas and Kim lead me to a bar to carry on drinking. Well, she tried, but I spun her round in the street and planted a cheeky kiss on her lips. Smiling coyly, we walked hand in hand to the next bar.
Although there was a pool table and cool hipster types hanging out, I didn’t really pay much attention as we spent most of the time chatting, giggling and kissing.
Kim had work in the morning so eventually we called it a night and I jumped on the subway with her as I needed to go and meet Toast who was on a date and had the only key to the apartment.
Finding him was promising to be a bit of a trek so Kim casually sugguested that it might be easier to stay at hers since she lived en route. This seemed like a much better idea so we walked hand in hand through the FREEZING wind to her apartment.
There was lots of kissing and other hijinks which was all very lovely, I really like her a lot.
In the morning I walked to the subway with her and kissed her goodbye at my stop with the promise of seeing her on Thursday night. Unfortunately my plan of heading back to the apartment was thwarted as Toast, the keymaster, was staying at girl’s place and MyLoveLifeInYourHands was in DC.
I camped in a Bagel shop for an hour and a half until Toast surfaced. There are certainly worse places in the world to be stuck than a New York bagel shop.
Marriage percentage: 35%
I am really looking forward to Thursday and seriously thinking twice about meeting up with any of the internet dates I had made vague plans with. Gosh, American women are lovely!