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 being comprehensively chatted up by a pretty Irish girl last week (and cunningly persuaded to take her home) we met up again on an official date.
Because we had become rather familiar last time, we opted for a cozy pub visit so we could talk without shouting over thumping. thumping music. I arranged to meet her in the only cozy pub in central that I can reliably find, which is where I was introduced to The Virginian and where I last met Noir.
I arrived almost on time, which is a definite improvement for me. Walking in I scanned the pub looking for a my date and to see if there was somewhere to perch. For a moment I thought I had spied a cozy corner by the bar until, annoyingly, I spotted a rather pretty woman standing there so kept scanning past.
Then she waved and I realised it was my date. Blimes! She’d had a haircut with a great fringe and looked particularly fantastic. Good fringes win me over. Now I think of it, brightly coloured hair, great fringes and bunches are all hair centric features that make me swoon a little.
After a peck on the cheek and snuggling into a couple of chairs, we started chatting very comfortably. She’d made the traditional Irish claim that the Guinness in England isn’t nearly as good as back home, only it emerged that she’s never actually drunk Guinness! Since this was the very pub where Toast had downed a pint of the black stuff in about 5 seconds, amazing both me and The Virginian, it seemed only fitting that I should celebrate this most heralded of stout with her. Even though she’d never had it, or even drunk pints, she particularly enjoyed it and one followed another and another. In the spirit of a proper cultural exchange, I also fed her pork scratchings, England’s finest bar snack. FACT!
There was some knee touching. There was quite a lot of knee touching really. It was very exciting.
I finally found out how old she is as I previously had NO idea. For about 5 minutes I misinterpreted the timeline and thought she was 21, but thankfully discovered she was actually 29.
The amusing epilogue to the story of the last time I saw here is that she went off to meet her aunt who is a nun, and one of her nun friends to go to the memorial service of another nun. I had been blithely unaware of the obvious fact that she was off to a memorial, surrouded by nuns, in the same clothes that she had been wearing the previous night.
I think nuns must have some kind of special ‘sin-dar’ because they figured out what she had been up to! Although we hadn’t done anything expressly naughty, we had kissed a LOT but essential clothes had remained on, I still took a certain wicked pleasure in being complicit in leading her astray (even though she had pulled me!). One nun, who knew her dad said:
“Now you have your fun and enjoy yourself but don’t you be taking an English boy home to your father”
She fessed up that she had forgotten my name the night we first met and had to check it. I fessed up that I had got Toast to ask her name when I went to the toilet as I wasn’t sure I had it right either (that is a killer move by the way and REALLY useful to stop you looking unattentative).
We even covered some of the ‘god’ stuff. It’s difficult to ask ‘so then… “GOD”… where’d you stand on that then?’, but I probing conversation revealed that she didn’t really do church except for the usual weddings, funerals, bar-mitzvahs. Well, maybe not the last one. This was a MASSIVE relief and, although still not resolved, put me rather more at ease.
The date was going very well, knee touching, cheeky grins, light ribbing. It was going well right up until the socially challenged man decided to insert himself into the date. In a move identical to the one pulled by the strange man when I was on my date with Indy, only minus the tiny dog, he struck up banal conversation and then sat down.
It’s my fault, I should have asked him to leave at that point. Lesson learned, my stifling English politeness stopped me from telling him to bugger off. This squat, nasally voiced man with receding hair and black goatee then proceeded with banal conversation.
“Are you together?”
“You look very much in love”
“Oh.. are you Irish?”
“so are you on a date then?”
It was painful. He told us about how he was gonna make his fortune because he had invested all his money in some up and coming white rapper. My date left to go to the toilet and I resolved that I was going to get rid of him. Then his phone rang…
“Yep… yeah… yeah I know… yeah I’ve sorted it. No… yeah… I’m on top of it… Look, I told you… MUM… I SAID I’ve SORTED it”
At that point his entertainment value soared! Finishing his phone call he nodded to where my date had escaped to (I just hoped she wasn’t climbing out of the toilet window at this point).
“Cor, she’s lovely isn’t she! I’ve got three women on the go”
I seriously hoped he didn’t count his mum in that list.
“yeah, I’m off to see one now. She’s a dancer… really fit.”~
“…………I think she’s a prostitute.”
Stifling my stomach shuddering laughter, I saw my date returning and so announced, “right, we’ve got to go and meet Tim”, necked my drink, thrust out my hand to shake his and we made our exit, stage left.
Finding another pub we grabbed our last Guinness of the night. We had been talking about dating and she said that I was the first boy she’d kissed or been on a date with since she had arrived in the country a few months ago. She asked me when the last time I had been on a date was.
I’m not naturally duplicitous by nature but I suddenly panicked. The last date had been only 4 days earlier and I sensed this might be a bad thing to admit so I fibbed: “about two weeks ago”. I’m not proud of fibbing, I pride myself on being straight with people but it was out there. Not a big fib but I don’t like to even start that slippery slope.
The pub called time and we walked back to the tube, stopping outside for a kiss. It was quite a long kiss. I had forgotten quite how good a kisser she is and we may have been there, on the pavement, for a few minutes. We even got heckled. This is the third time I have been heckled kissing. Once with Fuckwittery, and once with the IT Girl a few days earlier before.
Having cleared up some of the god stuff and being able to actually talk for a while, her marriage percentage has definitely improved.
Marriage percentage: 35%
I left with a promise to see her after I got back from New York. Damn… Once again I’ve got myself into a situation with two girls I like at the same time. Well, I can’t imagine that going to New York will complicate things any further, what with the dates, parties and fiesty American women with bangs and delicious accents.
Most of this holiday I have been laid up with the ills. 3 weeks and counting. Whilst this may have brought joy to some as I have lost my voice completely several times, it has been somewhat wearing on me and hasn’t exactly encouragedme to pursue girls as I have been feeling less than sexy. The inability to do any exercise has also destroyed my enthusiasm to do anything productive whatsover.
I also pretty much lost my voice when I was on the last date with Little Miss Naughty so social occasions anywhere I have to talk much or raise my voice above very low conversation are pretty much out of the question.
I don’t mean to whinge (well, maybe a little), I’m just painting you a picture of why I may be somewhat less than active with dating or writing.
I’ve also had a bit of a ribbing from Toast about my marriage percentage for Little Miss Naughty falling. He’s noticed a pattern whereby I get very enthusiastic about someone, then seem to lose interest and follow the next shiny thing.
I’ve been giving this a lot of thought because I don’t want to be one of those people who only pursue the unobtainable and get bored once they are interested. It’s a very unattractive quality in a person so I have been mulling over the girls who I have shown significant enthusiasm. In an effort to establish a pattern I have decided to do some science. Get your lab coats and safety glasses on and turn to page 312 of your copy book.
Lashes – I have stopped pursuing her because I am not really getting signals back from her anymore and have been tentatively warned off by a mutual friend because she is a bit of a heartbreaker.
Summary: Still interested but she’s evidently not.
Noir – I WAS rather keen but have cooled off over a few dates as I found I enjoyed spending time with her but have not been excited about dates so have cooled it off.
Summary: Was over keen, gradually lost romantic interest.
Elizabeth – I was over keen, then realised I just didn’t fancy her when we met up for a date.
Summary: Was over keen, suddenly lost romantic interest.
Fuckwittery – We got on like a proverbial burning abode before we even met, had a few very fun meets but both the complexity of her knowing about the blog in advance and her rather erratic careering between extremes of emotion made it obvious that being chums is a much better course of action.
Summary: Got on far too well and was over keen.
Cola Lollies – I was very interested but always felt like I should have been way more keen. Given how generally awesome she is it totally baffles me why I am not more romantically interested in her.
Summary: I WANT to be more into her but don’t understand why I’m not.
Stripy Dress: This was the first girl in a long time I was very interested in. I still would be if she hadn’t dicked me around a bit and suddenly gone really cold with no explanation.
Summary : Very disappointing, was interested in taking it further with her.
a) Was keen but no longer romantically interested in girl: 3
b) Girl lost interest even though I was still keen: 2
c) WANT to b more interested in the girl but am not: 1
Both categories ‘a’ and ‘b’ fall within the behaviour pattern of ‘being interested until a girl is interested back then losing interest’. Just because 5 out of the 6 girls, on the face of it, fall within this pattern it does not necessarily mean that I am succumbing to this behaviour, but it does not bode well. No wonder Toast is not overly keen about me dating any of his friends.
I do genuinely believe that if Stripy Dress had not been such a spaz then I would not have lost interest. I was still very keen when it looked like she was reciprocating the feelings. Notably if I cast my mind back to the very start with cupcake I sustained the keenness when she was interested too.
It could be that I have just not had the right girl reciprocate my interest yet, that the ones I have not sustained romantic feeling for are just not right for me.
It could also be that I have to face up to some bad behaviour that will not be getting me married any time soon.
Lesson to learn
CALM DOWN!!!! Seriously, at least until I have had a couple of dates with the girl, then I am allowed to get break out the party poppers and make Toast do that glazed look where I waffle on about a girl ad nauseum (in between waffling about my favourite gun in Borderlands).
Whilst I can’t control how I feel about someone, if I keep calm then hopefully I can avoid my disappointment, prevent theirs and potentially sustain my interest.
Thing is, I REALLY have no self control! Perhaps I need to use some kind of adapted sexual climax delaying technique like thinking of dead kittens when I get too excited.
Oh… I don’t think of dead kittens when I…err… never mind.
It is relatively easy to sit here and critique the marriage percentage of my dates without their knowledge or means of retort. That was, obviously, always the plan as no good can come at the end of a candlelit meal, or drunken cocktail session, of presenting a lady with a feedback form.
1) On a scale of 1-5, 1 being the worst and 5 the best, please rate the following;
- personal grooming,
- conversational ability,
- knowledge of robots,
- je ne sais quoi.
2) What do you feel were be best and worst moments of the date?
3) Please provide a percentage, from 0-100, indicating how likely is that you will marry Biscuit.
However, an unplanned turn of events has put the shoe firmly on the other foot. In response to a recent request from commenter Jenny (doesn’t that sound like something from a dystopian ultra-socialist future… “You have been commended for your fortitude and child-bearing hips Commenter Jenny”), the lovely Ms Fuckwittery has provided me with an in depth graphical assessment of my own performance in the marriage percentage stakes.
You will be able to piece most of this together from recent posts on my dalliance with Ms FW, but I need to fill you in on some events that you don’t know about.
After she came round for crumpets we had three more engagements planned: Rebel Bingo and then two (one dub/reggae, one filthy electro rock, both highly enjoyable). This graph runs up to the first gig:
For clarity, I should explain 2 things:
- “failing to adequately dance to RATM (at Rebel Bingo) is a LIE. I was busy writing “c a r e b e a r” across my knuckles (this would make sense if you were there) and would have been ready in time if she hadn’t kept grabbing my arm!
- “WHORING” was entirely bad behaviour on my part for accidentally hitting on a girl in front of her. Bad Biscuit. In my defence, as soon as I realised I was doing it, I stopped.
This graph pretty much shows one thing very clearly: That it’s far too jagged to indicate long-term suitability for marriage!
I get on extremely well with Ms FW and enjoy spending time with her very much. I think I need a flatter curve from any potential spouses! After this graph was produced we agreed that it was the right thing to do to ‘just be friends’ (although Toast has bet me a Kinder Bueno that we will do something naughty by the end of next weekend).
There is, however, a second graph which is far more important:
I have learned two lessons from this whole experience:
- Meeting people from teh internets has so far been a 100% positive experience.
- Despite what others may say, people in London are very frendly, especialy if you are on the tube with scribbles all over your face.
I wasn’t really in the mood for this date.
It had been a very long stressful week at work, I was knackered. I had also been seeing the Virginian enough to feel a little bit weird to be going on a date with someone else. Biscuit did remind me of Scalene’s airport dash while almost in a proper relationship so that made what I was about to do okay.
I arrived slightly late due to a tube mess up, but the girl was also late for the same reason. I should give her a name, because I suspect she will appear again. How about The Mermaid? This will make sense in a bit.
She was waiting outside the bar when I arrived. The Mermaid had her hair up with a flower in it, to aid identification. She was tall, in good heels and a dark blue fitted houndstooth dress that showed off military grade legs.
By ‘military grade legs’ I mean they were so impressive they should have been banned by the 1949 Geneva Convention that restricts the use of certain conventional weapons which are considered excessively injurious.
She looked like Julia Roberts in the early 1990s with a dash of Keira Knightley. Hauntingly pretty.
We said our awkward hellos and walked into the bar. Ms FuckWittery had chosen the place. It was terribly trendy, but also rammed, really hot and very loud. It took about half an hour to get any booze, but the cocktails were worth the wait.
We found a little dark corner to sit in and started chatting away. I knew almost nothing about her, only a couple of vague things from her mutual friend Ms FuckWittery which made it all terribly exciting.
The Mermaid has lived abroad a lot in the last few years. She has spent time in India and Italy and currently works on cruise ships. I found her stories of life at sea absolutely gripping.
The down side to these nautical adventures is that she will be going on another one in about a month’s time and won’t be back for five months. Oh bum.
We only stayed for one drink because the bar was so warm. I’d run out of clothes I could reasonably take off on a first date, and The Mermaid was suffering in the heat too. Maybe the bar should rebrand as a noisy sauna that also serves booze.
Once we were outside we strolled towards Soho in the hunt for somewhere with some nice wine to drink. I always think if you can stumble across somewhere brilliant on a date it’s a good sign.
It’s pointlessly superstitious but gave me something else to think about other than the amazing legs next to me. I wasn’t the only person distracted by the legs, I saw a man walk into a lamp-post because he was too busy eyeing up the Mermaid
My date luck was in. We found a lovely little Italian bistro and sat down for red wine and a plate of cold meat and cheeses. The wine was good, the food lovely and the company excellent. The Mermaid started touching my knee when she mentioned my name.
One bottle turned into two and we ordered more food to pick at including some beautiful olives. We both got rather drunk, in a nice way. I touched her knee back occasionally.
After what seems like an instant the bistro was closing. I sorted out the bill and then guided the Mermaid to Bar Italia to get her opinion on the coffee.
Bar Italia never closes and has a reputation for serving some of the best coffee in London. The Mermaid had lived in Florence for the summer and took her coffee seriously. I thought it would be a fair match.
Her espresso got the nod of approval and we chatted about some more things and soaked up the atmosphere.
Eventually I walked her to her bus stop. The goodbye was slightly rushed because the pesky bus arrived almost instantly. How annoying.
I kissed her on the cheeks, and then because it seemed like to right thing to do, chastity on the lips.
What an annoying bus.
Marriage percentage: 40% – It would be higher but she is shipping out.
- Blind dates are exciting.
- Being set up on blind dates by chums is also fun because you can get a ‘score’ from them afterwards, which you don’t get from complete strangers.
- Knee touching seems to be the indicator of attraction these days. How gentile.
- I like girls with flowers in their hair.
- My love life has just got way more complicated.