The Theatre Producer and I have been going out for nearly a couple of months now. Here is what I have learned so far.
- She really likes cucumbers.
- She makes incredibly good sandwiches.
- And good gin and tonics, but seriously that sandwich was amazing.
- She doesn’t like the film Dune as much as I do. Although I do admit it is a bit weird, that’s why I like it.
- I get up earlier than her, but she is happy for me to go off and make her brioche while she sleeps.
- She is better at shooty computer games than Biscuit.
- Spiders are not her friends, even photographs of them.
- If I need her to be quiet I should make her banana bread, a cup of good coffee (black, no sugar) and put on the West Wing 0r Game of Thrones.
- She has a lot of shoes, almost none of them are sensible.
- Because of her job, if you watch a show on the telly with her she will know someone in it. I always find this a bit exciting.
- Chocolate buttons are her breakfast chocolate of choice.
- She is very nice
The Theatre Producer said she wanted to take me out on a date. A teenage style date to be exact. I wasn’t sure what this would involve but I was deeply curious. I had been told that the something had been arranged but we didn’t have a specific time to be anywhere.
We met at a bar near Waterloo station. Or at least we tried to meet at the bar. I was only about 50 metres away from her but I couldn’t find the pesky place due to an ambiguous name and awful signs. Yeah that’s right, it wasn’t my fault I couldn’t find it, it was someone else’s.
At last I found her. The Theatre Producer was wearing a blue floaty dress, so floaty that it kept rising up in the wind. We walked along the South Bank looking for suitable bench to sit on with her occasionally stopping to pat her unruly dress down.
Once we had found the bench the Theatre Producer produced a bottle of wine, some Costa coffee cups and a large packet of crisps. The wine was decanted into the cups. A whole bottle will fit in two cups which says scary things about how much coffee we drink. We sipped the booze out of paper cups while looking at the Houses of Parliament.
Once the booze was gone we went to Namco. ‘Namco centre’ is an amusement arcade. They’ve got bumper cars and those things with claws that almost let you get prizes and things to punch, shoot, drive and maim. Perfect for a slightly awkward teenage date.
The Theatre Producer had ordered a load of tokens in advance so we clinked around the place trying out everything that caught our eye.
We played a lot of shooting games and went on the bumper cars. The Theatre Producer obliterated me at air hockey and then on the punching machine we discovered I can punch just slightly more than four times harder than her. She liked that bit, although as a feminist she will probably punch me in the arm (weakly) for mentioning it.
After some more shooting, a bit of racing and one of those simulator things that tries to make you feel sick while watching a film we had some beers, ate some nachos and then went home.
It was an excellent teenage date.
Marriage percentage: 64%
P.S. It is a bit weird going to arcades now that home computers are more powerful than arcade machines. When did that happen?
So we’d had a first kiss, what now? Well after the kissing in the pub some text messages were exchanged.
They mostly consisted of me calling the Theatre Producer a moxy seductress and admitting I fell asleep with a wok on my chest (leftover stir-fry eaten while drunk in bed).
There were emails exchanged too. In one of them I asked, entirely hypothetically of course if she would be up for a ‘proper date’ some time.
She said we should talk when she gets back from America. Yes the Theatre Producer is off to America for a month in about a week’s time. Boo.
Also because it hadn’t really been dates yet I’ve managed to avoid the tricky issue of a marriage percentage. *phew*.
With the date question out of the way we settled down into emailing each other quite a lot in a chummy way. I mentioned I had a plus one for a perfume launch if she fancied it and she said yes. It was all terribly nice.
The Theatre Producer had to go into hospital, it wasn’t anything too serious she just hurt her neck dancing on tables. Well falling off tables to be more exact.
She had ignored the injury for a while (hard core!) but after consulting with NHS direct had been told to go to a hospital. This being the NHS (which I love of course) she spent a lot of the day waiting around. I said that if she was still there by the time I finished work I’d pop in to say hello and to give her something to read.
She was, and so I put together a goodie bag of books, novelty soft drinks and make-up to cheer her up.
By the time I arrived she had seen a doctor and been given a prescription and instructions. I handed over the gifts (they were a hit, especially the nail polish which I said was ‘shark’ colour) and then sort of took them and her bag back because she wasn’t supposed to carry heavy things around with a wonky neck.
We decided to go for a posh coffee and cake. Everywhere was super busy so we got to go on quite a long walk before we found somewhere suitable. We sat outside drinking coffees, eating cake and laughing.
I realised I must like her a bit at this point because I let her have a some of my chocolate cake.
After the cake was finished we said goodbye, I had to head back and she had to walk home very carefully and take powerful painkillers. There was absolutely no kissing because this wasn’t a date.
Also we had the perfume launch the next day.
Marriage percentage: 30% (With massive reductions for being a reader)
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.
I know that technically I’m not supposed to be dating to avoid getting caught up with someone just before I go to America. However things haven’t quite worked out like that. I had two first dates last weekend and I’m probably going to have another two next weekend. Not because I’m a man-slut, but because well. Let me explain
1) The Brazilian
I was planning on a quiet night in because I was exhausted from work and all that. However I did happen to have OkCupid on my laptop and it suddenly pinged into life.
A girl I’d chatted to very briefly had got back in contact. She said she was back in the country. I congratulated her on sorting out her Visa and she asked me out for a drink. I asked if she was talking about now.
She said yes and an hour later (time for a shower and travel) we met up in the centre of London outside a coffee shop.
She was tall with dark hair and described herself as ‘Being Brazilian but looking Japanese’. She did.
She was wearing very tight grey jeans, with knee-high grey boots and a woolly top. She was wearing about six coats – she was still re-adjusting to the climate in England.
We ended up going for a coffee because she didn’t drink and I always feel a bit weird drinking if the other person doesn’t. Although I don’t drink caffeine so it ended up being a hot chocolate.
We talked about the differences between London and Brazil, films, pets and great places to eat. She had come back to England to open an art gallery. We talked about art for a long time.
After a couple of hours it was time to get the tube home so we walked off into the night. We said a brief goodbye and I disappeared underground. The conversation had been okay but not amazing. Just sort good with no real ‘wow that’s amazing I’m just the same moments.’
I didn’t think she would contact me again but the next day she texted asking for a reminder of the films I had recommended and asking when my next stand-up gig was. I wonder if she will appear. This may be a slow burner thing.
Marriage percentage – 15% – Not real sparkle but nice enough and the well co-ordinated boots and trousers combination was impressive.
2) The Consultant
Sunday was another date day, this time for a mid-afternoon coffee. This girl contacted me and we had exchanged a few messages before she suggested we meet for a drink.
We met in Angel, I was a little early, she was a little late. She was in a surprisingly slinky dress, with a sort of lace bit that made it slightly more risqué than it first appeared to be. She was short but in amazing shape with, you guessed it long black hair (I am assuming you all know my type by now) and a rather cheeky smile.
We went to a coffee place nearby and had hot chocolate with far too much cream on top. She was very easy to talk to, and had lots of interesting views and had travelled everywhere. We talked about misadventures, writing, clothes breaking and quality underwear.
About halfway through the coffee I suggested we go and see a film she said yes but couldn’t go today. So we had red velvet cake instead. It was very good but also strange, the flavour of the cake I mean.
After a few hours we parted ways. I had really enjoyed talking to her. The only awkward bit was I went for a double *mwah* and I think I caught her off-guard. Whoops.
Marriage percentage – 25% – A good date. She was interesting, pretty and wore a nice frock. I’m a man of simple needs.
She texted me the next day and we are going to go and see Black Swan on Wednesday. Yes I’m aware it’s probably not a traditional date movie but thems the breaks.
Expect more reports to follow.
I’ve got a few first dates semi-arranged now so I’ve been fitting them in when I have a spare moment in London.
At the weekend I had a morning free so I sorted out a date with a girl from Vermont who had contacted me on a dating website.
We had arranged to meet up in Soho, at a place I know that makes amazing coffee. Coffee dates are good because if they go well they can evolve into lunch and if they go badly you can disappear after one cup.
First dates, especially blind ones are basically an interviews anyway. If it’s awful you need to be able to run away screaming about how you’ve suddenly turned gay or your house is on fire.
You can’t do that if you are on a ghost train or in a restaurant.
Soho can be a bit of a maze if you are hung-over so I ended up being about 30 seconds late. She was waiting outside the café when I arrived.
The girl from Vermont was medium height with short light brown hair in a tight bob. Her eyes were icy blue. She was wearing jeans, a brown coat and a light blue scarf that matched her eyes.
She did look like her photo, but I suspect the photo was taken at least a year ago, possibly longer. It’s always a bit of a warning when people on dating websites only have one photo. Everything has a camera these days so there is no real excuse.
We ordered coffee and a small selection of pastries (which were absolutely amazing) before sitting down at table outside to learn a bit about each other. Oh my word the pastries were good.
She worked for an Italian countess as a PA and had been in London for a year, before that she had been in Italy. We exchanged silly stories about jobs and anecdotes about why London is great.
She told me that Vermont is the best state in America and that I should visit. She also said that she knew the best Indian restaurant in London. I liked these bold claims but not enough for a second cup of coffee. So I paid and we said our goodbyes. I didn’t feel I needed to fake an emergency.
The date was pleasant enough but I have now resolved to only go on second dates with people who really impress me so we won’t be meeting up again. It wasn’t bad, just sort of ‘meh’.
That’s what the wager has done; it’s made me very focused when it comes to relationships.
Marriage percentage: 5%
”No Biscuit, I have already consumed far too much drink and I don’t want to put any more cocktails in my face’
Instead I said ‘Yes’ and then ‘Shall I get another round in?’
So it was basically my fault that I was broken and for that I apologise to my own liver. Biscuit fed me some drugs , a mixture of different ones and then we ambled off to a chums house for coffee. We decided to walk there because it might clear our heads. It sort of worked. I definitely felt less sick after it, although Biscuit kept talking about polishing turds and glitter.
We arrived my chum’s house and she fed us bacon sandwiches and coffee. It was excellent but I still felt a bit weird. So weird that I sort of cancelled my dates for the day.
I say sort of because they had been arranged but the final text of ‘okay what time shall we meet’ had never been replied too. I suspect the Internet Rats must have eaten the messages. I didn’t persue it too much as I was still in shock after kissing Tate.
Biscuit was feeling less broken so he went on some dates I went for a walk with a dog and then got the train home. The only other thing of note was that Spain called, we talked about chaps and this caused her to ask a friend about the man she had been seeing and it turned out he is married with kids. She was very cut up about this but it’s good that she knows now. Of course what she decided to do with this information was pretty shocking, but that’s for a later post.
It really was most surprising London trip.