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.
One of the things that enjoyed most about living with Dragonforce was going to gigs and festivals and being able to get drunk, bounce around being punched by sweaty strangers and have an awesome time without the need to babysit anyone or feel bad for having fun. I’ve been to gigs with girlfriends before and it’s sapped my enjoyment if I can’t be where I want to be or feel guilty for being where I want to be and having to keep running back to check they’re ok.
When I last saw Jen we spent a lot of time swapping music recommendations and I invited her to join me at a filthy electro rock gig I had the following week. This was real make or break stuff. Seriously, had potential to be a bit moshy so it really could have been ‘break’!
Having spent the week with an ambivalent mix of excitement and trepidation she arrived at mine looking suitably attired for a gig: leather jacket, flats and some rather slinky jeans. Also her accidental Princess Diana haircut had now grown out to a fiery, slightly shaggy, rock chick cut. I was so proud that I wanted to take a photo to start an instructional “Dummies Guide to Gig Going” manual.
Because I had insisted on buying the tickets, she insisted on buying the booze. After the support band we settled into a comfortable spot in the crowd (after I’d finished mincing around, fretting that we’d not get where I wanted to).
When going to gigs with Dragonforce we used to use fluro wristbads to find eachother in a crowd. Her being about 5′ 10″ helped too. Despite being at a tiny venue with Jen, there was a not unreasonable chance of losing her as she is 5′ 3″.
As it turned out, she was brilliant. After the initial surge when the crowd sorted itself into ‘dancy’ and ‘non-dancy’ people, I slotted her into a space in front of me where she had a good view. We bounced around threw embarrassing spazzy shapes with abandon. She was gleefully absorbed in dancing whilst I would bound off for the odd song for tussle , then come back dripping with sweat to see her grinning at me. or whilst I fought off the bodies that would ricochet too near to us and I was worried about her getting hurt (I needn’t have been, she can look after herself)
She was even highly amused when, after kissing me, I unconsciously wiped my hand across my mouth because of sticky lipstick (hers, not mine… Wow, I’m really building myself up as a hot date)
I don’t think the night could have gone better. The more I date her, the more I feel like I’ve discovered a partner in crime. This is five dates now. FIVE! Look at me being a grown up and taking it slowly!
Marriage percentage: 57%
I would ordinarily add WAY more for that kind of excellent gig performance but she is already very high as it is. Is that a fair approach? If I had put on the 15% (at LEAST) that would otherwise be worth then we’ll be almost over the 70% and that leaves little headroom before we hit 100% and I have to propose.
I at least need to ask her more about her cat first.
Early last week I met up for a second date with Noir. Our first had consisted of mojitos, pizza and a little kissing.
Since I had travelled to her last time, we met somewhere centrally this time. Actually, since it was so homely, I arranged to meet her in the same pub in which Toast first introduced me to the Virginian and we made multinational friends with the power of balloons.
By serendipity, we both arrived precisely 11 minutes late, so were both on time to walk in the door only 5 seconds apart.
The pub is ‘authentic London boozer’ upstairs and ‘homely restaurant’ downstairs so we were able to relocate to the basement when we fancied a little grub.
As I usually forget details from dates I have taken to jotting down reminders:
- There was a lot of talk of music, recommendations and counter recommendations. We’ve got quite a base of overlapping music taste and that’s always been quite important to me.
- We discussed my Borderlands addiction with a slightly sensitive tone that one might discuss booze with an alcoholic. I assured I had it under control… pretty much.
- Emoticons are favoured, although sparingly and to effect, much like swearing.
- Noir has some great anecdotes and after her accidental introduction into the London gangster scene a decade ago, this time I learned of a Frasier-esque farce where by both her and her dad ended up at a Jamie Cullum concert that neither of them wanted to be at. Although not wanting to be a a Jamie Cullum concert is not exactly surprising in itself, her dad had bought the tickets as a father daughter bonding activity thinking that she liked him, she went along for the bonding thinking that her dad was really keen. Let hilarity ensue!
- Apparently I was not the only person to raise the subject of Jewish bum sex with her in the previous week. Being the THIRD to independently raise the subject she was beginning to get a bit of a complex. She was unaware of the stereotype of Jewish girls doing a bum sex because it’s not ‘real’ sex and so doesn’t count. In retrospect, I think this may be a primarily American thing as I was listening to a lot of Keith and the Girl podcast for a while and it was discussed a number of times on there. Anyway, the subject was eventually vetoed due to exasperation!
A lot of my recent dates seem to have followed the same pattern: Meet drink, (optionally eat), kiss, say goodbye. This must be making some repetitive writing but I am not quite sure how to break out of that cycle.
Thing is, I’m not looking for a quick lay. It would be easy to arrange something at her or my house and let the natural progression of booze and coziness lead to hijinks. If I was just trying to do the sex, that would be a lot easier. Trying to find out whether you are compatible with a lady for a serious relationship, love and marriage is something else though.
On that basis, I don’t want to rush into winkle touching just for the sake of it.
We left the pub so I could walk her to the bus stop, with plan to have some time to do some kissing before she had to leave. Unfortunately her bus turned up in about 30 seconds… so she missed that. And the next. And the next! Blimes.
I’m being very cautious with my approach and trying to take it slow to see how things develop. M35%. That might seem low but it’s just me being measured.
Interestingly, Toast got an email from their mutual friend with the counter-intelligence on my date. It’s rare that you get this kind of info so you never really know how it went in the mind of the other person. However, here is her date report for me:
1. Biscuit bought the first round (gentleman points)
2. Biscuit had a very nice stripy top on (Noir fashion points)
3. Biscuit made her do lots of massive belly laughs (she said he would find
this either revolting or endearing; I suspect endearing)
4. Biscuit walked her to the bus stop and they let FOUR buses go by cos they
were too busy doing kissings on each other
All in all, that’s a pretty good report! Certainly a lot better than I suspect some others might have given me based on precious behaviour.
I’ve not posted for a while because well nothing has happened. Work and other things got in the way. Boo to them.
I’ve been trying to arrange dates with the Fez, but we had some diary clashes – she was moving house so that absorbed all her free time at the weekends and I couldn’t do anything midweek because of work.
On Monday she asked me out. The subject line was ‘Where do you go from a rape?’ which was a reference to date number 2.
She suggested another play and I said yes and then mentioned that I would be in London on the 13th for a work thing if she fancied afternoon tea or an early supper.
This evolved into her cooking me a pie in exchange for helping make her new sofa bed. She said that according to Facebook I had ‘substantial set of guns’ which be ideal for building furniture.
This evolved again and she has asked for a ‘gun show’ after we finish making the sofa bed.
It seemed ungentlemanly to refuse such a request, roll on Tuesday.