I don’t go on holiday with girls. I’ve tried it a few times and it’s never gone well.
Ladies, for all their lovely properties have a very different view on holiday time, also the ones I know seem to turn into despots once they pass through customs.
Here are some previous examples of holiday disasters
Between the tickets being booked and me going, the girl and I split up (it was more of a fling than a relationship). She begged me to go anyway. I arrived at the airport with no-idea of where I was staying and no way of contacting her.
I managed to get hold of someone else in the group and told her I had arrived. They picked me up, not her, two complete strangers. She didn’t bother going in the car so I had a weird, very long trip to the house with two people I’d never met before.
The car ride was weird but nothing compared to spending time in a remote villa with her sisters and all her friends. I was the odd one out while they were off their tits on drugs. I was only there for a few days but it felt like months, long awkward months of watch my ex-not-quite-girlfriend flirt with a someone else in the pool.
There was a sauna though, which was nice.
I was invited by a flatmate. 10 of us went to a remote farm house in the middle of no-where. (I’m sensing a theme) There was one car, the girl was the only driver registered on it. She spent the whole holiday being either 1) too tired to drive 2) drunk.
Nine People went a bit mad from being stranded until we managed to rent a car from a man in a farm house and we had one lovely day of exploring and doing touristy stuff before we left. When we got back it was my fault that people get pestering her to drive.
It was a trip my a girlfriend of the time. It was fine at first and then I wanted to read a book for an hour on the Sunday, I know the heartless bastard. This caused a furious rage that lasted the rest of the evening, and the journey home all the way to Euston.
She stormed off into the underground, I got involved in a fight (well trying to break one up) but she didn’t notice because she was so angry. I didn’t get home until midnight, because of all the police stuff and she was still angry with me for the next week. The book turned out to be rubbish too.
The reason I mention this is that the Theatre Producer invited me on holiday with her, a mini-break really, to go to the wedding of her friend in Serbia.
I have to say I’m a bit nervous, I hope I don’t get in a fight again.
Today was a big day in relationship terms. I gave the Theatre Producer a drawer, well the use of a drawer in my room.
She now has her own storage device in my home. This is a big step for me, letting a girl (who are rubbish as we all know*) have her own storage place in my room (which is excellent).
The drawer was empty at first, she was slightly taken aback with the offering. Then it had some make-up in it. Now it is filled with strange lady things like moisturiser, well it was last time I saw into it**.
Now I am afeared to look inside. It is a place of womanly things and not for me.
Where will this end? I do not know, maybe if she is really good I’ll let use my bestest crayons to draw pictures of dragons.
*All girls are rubbish, this isn’t a slight on the Theatre Producer it’s just that all ladies smell weird and they don’t like robots enough.
**She opened it when I was in the room. There might have been some frilly things in it.
Big News! Jen is moving into the house with Biscuit and I! Shocking eh?
Well it’s not forever, just for a couple of weeks in-between moving up to London. She has to wait a couple of weeks for her new place to become available and the lease on her current place expires before then.
Biscuit had a chat with me about it to see if I was fine with it. Of course I was, but I thought it would be excellent opportunity to set Jen some tasks on a condition of her moving in.
So far I have
1) Defeat The Theatre producer at a 3D computer game
Something shooty, she hasn’t got her head around modern 3d games yet so she can’t play Biscuit’s beloved Borderlands with him
2) Make us a pie
Pies are excellent
3) Force Biscuit to update the blog more often
Although since she doesn’t know about the blog I’m not sure how I’ll organise that one.
I’ve got a male chum who has just come out of a long relationship. He was going out with this girl for about five years, they were living together and now it’s over.
He seems fine about the whole thing. They were one of those couples that snipe at each other all the time. He finally broke it off after yet another huge fight. It was coming for a long time.
Anyway. He is back to being single and is determined to stay out of a relationship for a while, which is why he has instigated The Eight Sexings Rule*.
The Eight Sexing Rule
My chum, let’s call him Geoff, is only going to have sex with any girl a maximum of eight times. He has decided this is the point when things start to get a bit like a relationship and so any more could be dangerous.
An evening of nude fun counts as one sexing and if something in the morning happens, well that doesn’t count as a new one either. So it’s probably more eight sex-dates rather than sex eight times. I know this because all his friends have been quizzing him on the rules after he made such a bold statement.
It is working out for him so far. He is dating a few ladies but keeping them at a distance and building up what he calls ‘a rota’. Or as I like to call it ‘a tragedy waiting to happen’.
What do you think? Is this a sensible plan?
*Yes I know it’s grammatically wrong but that’s what he calls it.
Bank holiday Monday, Jen suggested that we go to Thorpe Park. We set of from hers early(ish) in the mornin after she had cooked me excellent eggy bread for breakfast. The journey provided an amusing insight into girl logic.
We were angling to get there just as it opened so left fairly early on Jen’s promise that it was only 20 minutes away. She needed to stop off at the start of the journey so she could grab some fags and cash so pulled into a garage before hitting the motorway. She was also low on fuel but decided not to get any. Obviously any man would think ‘need fuel… tank empty… buy now’, but this is a not man logic.
5 minutes down the motorway she decided that we needed fuel so took a 10 minute diversion to find a garage. I was incredulous! Proper open-mouthed amazement! Thankfully it’s charmingly mental so I’ve just filed it under ‘endearing idiosyncrasy’
An hour after setting off, we arrived at Thorpe Park and set about the serious business of riding roller-coasters! If it was a game we would have won a gold medal at it. We made the front of ALL the roller-coasters with impressive efficiency. There was a lot of pulling fierce animal faces for the cameras so I bought her a fridge magnet of our speed face-lifts as a memento.
All the spare moments between making ourselves dizzy in the rides we spent stuffing food into our face holes. Foolishly we left the Tidal Wave until dark clouds had covered the sun and a chilly breeze picked up. As you may guess from its name, the tidal wave makes you wet. Very wet. In retrospect I’m not sure why I thought otherwise.
The force of the water when we splashed down was so strong it took Jen’s sunglasses off her head, which meant I leapt head-first back into the car after everyone had got off and fished around in the footwell until I found them floating.
I may not be able to conquer citadels for her, or name a new species of flower after her, but I can fish around in murky water for her much loved floral sunglasses and that makes her happy.
Being wet on a cold day can put a bit of a dampener on things (literally) so we decided to call it a day and retire to the warmth of the overpriced coffee bar for steaming hot chocolate. Even when she’s half drowned I still fancy her. Even when she banged her head in her car door after calling me a retard, I still fancy her.
Marriage percentage: 70% – She loves riding the front of rollercoasters AND stuffing her face all day long. I can see this being a very fruitful partnership.
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%