Somewhere something has gone wrong. When we started this wager I was only really just finding my feet with women after 32 years of blundering around (well, I probably shouldn’t count the first 10 or so). Having spent most of the years since being 18 in one long term relationship or another, I never really did the wild and free behaviour that a lot of people went through in their youth. To be honest I’m not sure I could have if I’d tried as I’ve always been a bit rubbish at that sort of thing and a bit shy with girls.
Having a wager to win really focusses the mind and it’s given me the incentive to go outside my comfort zone and to really think about what I’m looking for in a partner. In this search I’ve met some great people and have kissed a lot of girls. A lot of the time I really don’t know how it happens as I doubt I could do that if it was premeditated. Much to my bewilderment it has happened a lot and I’ve generally viewed it as a good thing as I don’t have time to wait around for promising wife material to come to me.
However, on my last date with Shannon I went way too far. I crossed the line from ‘proactive’ to outright womanising. It wasn’t supposed to be like this and I’m utterly ashamed of my behaviour. I’m not entirely sure how I got here but this is not where I am supposed to be. Aside from being utterly caddish, it’s also in direct contradiction of Rule 10: This is a wager between gentlemen, so gentlemanly conduct is expected.
I have done a lot of soul searching and decided that I am changing things as of now. Dating Jen and Shannon at the same time was making me feel a little uncomfortable anyway so I am going to concentrate my efforts on Jen. If I’m hitting on another girl when I’m on a date with Shannon then I guess I’m not that interested anyway so will reclaim some dignity and spare her by calling her to call things off.
There will be no more reprehensible behaviour and naughty times with anyone else are off the cards whilst I’m dating Jen. It just gets too confusing and I do rather like her so will give this the chance it deserves. I have already turned down a meet-up with a potential internet date who I suspect I would get on very well with. I thanked her for contacting me but said I was in the very early stages of ‘something’.
Maybe sometimes you have to cross a line to know it’s there. I’m not suggesting that I didn’t know that my recent behaviour was bad, just that it’s taken that to make me take a stern look at myself. I don’t want to be bad Biscuit anymore.
- There is a fine line between being a cheeky rogue and a despicable cad.
- I need to focus my mind and not be distracted by pretty girls or I will NEVER get married.
- Rule 10 is very important.
Next step: date with Jen.
This wager has rules for a very good reason.
For example: rule 2 ( No telling girls you are dating about the blog) is both for our physical safety, for the sanity of the ladies involved and to ensure open writing on this blog. It’s sort of a 4th wall.
However there was absolutely no stipulation that ladies who already knew about the blog were off limits. It does have it’s problems though.
As you know, I had a dalliance with the gregarious Ms Fuckwittery. This caused something of a conundrum and has persuaded me against any sort of romantic involvement with ladies ‘in the know’ in the future. This is not because the liaison was disastrous, far from it, but because of the complication of writing about someone who is aware that you are writing about them.
On Monday Ms FW paid me a visit to catch up on Nigella and The Inbetweeners. It’s worth mentioning at this point that she arrived with a cornucopia of gifts; prosciutto, Camembert, blackberries, M&S crumpets and a bottle of Chateauxneuf-du-pape.
These gifts were in apology for a dramatic episode a few days earlier where she (under the influence of booze and via the medium of text) insisted that we couldn’t speak any more as it was all rather too much.
This made me rather sad as we get on extremely well, regardless of any romantic involvement. After talking with Toast she has calmed down and sheepishness and light embarrassment prevailed, hence the presentation of a rather excellent choice of gifts.
Giggling our way through The Inbetweeners, we quaffed rosé, scoffed meat and cheese settled on the sofa. I really do enjoy her company. There were no plans on my part to engage in any shenanigans. However, there were shenanigans… and she did stay over (in the spare bed, mind!).
It was all rather enjoyable and it’s great to hang out with a girl I get on with again, especially one who consistently brings such great gifts. I have invited her to a couple of gigs that I’m going to next week as they’re bands she enjoys.
However, and it’s a big however, any involvement as more than friends will always be tempered with the knowledge that I am not only writing about her, but also writing about any other dates I may be having. There’s no easy way to resolve this conundrum except to just ride out the quandary horse and see where it canters to.
….or something like that!
- No getting involved with any more ladies who know about the blog.
- M&S crumpets really are superior to other lesser crumpets.
Marriage percentage – 32%. Excellent gift choosing skills are a valuable quality in a spouse, and also in a Christmas shopping advisor.
*books Ms Fuckwittery for all difficult relatives’ present selections in the future*
“Do it, and I’ll kill you” – Fuckwittery, at 9am this morning on this post happening.
I wasn’t allowed to post this originally. There was 4 hours of debate over whether this post would ever happen. This was entirely my fault. I made a promise that I shouldn’t have made… a promise that was directly in conflict with an earlier promise that I had made to Toast… and to you.
Despite attempting to be anonymous we have already met quite a few cool people as a direct result of writing this wager. Toast had originally contacted Fuckwittery to ask if she wanted to go on a blind date with me. She said she was too busy to go on any dates but was happy to set me (and Toast) up with her unsuspecting lovely friends.
As a result of this contact both Toast and I had been chatting to her via text and the occasional phone call (partly just to clarify the whole ‘Lauren’ situation).
On Tuesday night I spoke to her for the first time (concerning the fictional Lauren). This turned into quite a long telephone call. 5 hours to be specific. I had not spoken to a girl on the phone for 5 hours since I was with Aussie and we were on the opposite side of the world for a few months.
Curiosity getting the better of us, we agreed to meet up over a drink and I promised to debrief her on the blind date with her best friend. She said “you’re not going to write in this up are you”? Since it wasn’t a date, and slightly overcome with awe at just having spent SO long talking, I willingly agreed.
“alright, you can do it but you have to change some details” – Fuckwittery at 11am this morning.
As we walked into the wine bar, I suddenly recognised it as the one that Indy took me to and I had spent the last 6 months trying to find again. At this point I vowed to myself not to shout “VAGINA” at all during our visit.
We got on well. We got on very well actually.There was light ribbing and lots of giggling. Lots of giggling and naughty eyes.
“I appreciate the need for a good story” Fuckwittery at 12am this morning.
I might have kissed her first.
She might have kissed me back.
We might have been heckled by a homeless person for snogging too much in the street.
I might have repeated my promise that I wouldn’t write it up… until Toast read me the riot act about rule 6.
I am obliged to rate a marriage percentage. Actually, considering this was a ‘not date’ it’s a very respectable 25% (I do know that whatever I put here I will probably get abuse).
- I shouldn’t make promised to girls I’ve never met, no matter how doe-eyed they make me go.
- I shouldn’t make promised that are in direct conflict with other promised I have made. This is BAD.
- Rule 6 is important and we can’t start moderating the blog or it becomes pointless and boring.
- Writing this post has felt a little like a communist-style self criticism, outlining all my shortcomings. I should at least get a little red book for my efforts.
- It’s not entirely my fault. Fuckwittery is a lethal combination of the things that I have serious weaknesses for in a girl.
- Don’t send friends on blind date that you might want to go on.
I think we should all just take a moment to remind Biscuit, and his giggly house guest about this rules of the Wed Or Dead Wager.
6. EVERY date must be blogged. No secret dates. No ‘we just went for a coffee’. Every single one has to be recorded. Also you have to provide a Marriage Percentage (M%), scored at the end of the date.
See that. Every date.
This will make more sense when Biscuit posts about what happened on Thursday night. It should be a good post too, considering the woman involved said:
‘If you post this I will hunt you down and gut you like a fish.’
Following Toast’s recent arrival back at singledom, it seems that we are once again on a level pegging. In fact, if anything, I may be marginally ahead due to contacts made and groundwork done whilst Toast was with the Fez (if it’s possible to meaningfully qualify any marginal difference in our respective situations as ‘ahead’ or ‘behind’). On the flip-side, Toast has an extensive circle of female friends with beautiful and intelligent acquaintances they can introduce him to.
Yesterday I met up with a lady-friend who is back from Australia for a couple of weeks. I will refer to her as Scarlet for ease of reference. I have known Scarlet for many years as she is part of the extended circle of friends from the home town.
When I say, ‘friend’ I mean the kind of friend who I might have occasionally done naughty things with in the past. Actually, for a number of years I thought that we had fallen out following my ill chosen words on one particular night. I found out last year that she did not actually remember the incident at all (due to generally being fairly stoned around that time of her life) and so all my concern was, apparently, for nothing.
Scarlet left England to work in Australia last August. The night before she left we shared the naughtiest naughtiness so far, involving nakedness and everything. It was fun although, as mentioned before, my head was in no place at that time to connect with anyone so it was entirely physical.
Yesterday wasn’t really a date as such but in the spirit of rule 6 I am documenting it here. Mostly it involved sitting on a gloriously sunny beach with brief forays into:
- eating ice creams,
- sharing a some wine with a couple of other people,
- eating pizza,
- paddling in the outrageously far-away sea,
- having a pint.
In short, it was a normal (sort of)-date. Nothing silly happened. There was a little kissing and it was nice. Rather nice actually. I like kissing and I get to enjoy precious little of it. In a way I kind of miss it more than sex. You can always compensate for lack of sex, but tonguing the opening of a closed fist is good for nothing except giving 7 year-olds totally the wrong idea about what kissing involves when their friend excitedly proclaims it nearly the same as the real thing.
As time wore on and the day drew a close it was time to leave the refreshing sea-breeze behind. I had already offered Scarlet a lift back to mine if she fancied a beer and continuing the entertainment. She was erring on the side of going home. Not because she wanted to but as her friends and family had booked up almost the entirety of her brief visit with a selection of social engagements and she had a horribly early morning to contend with.
I know from past experience that I could easily have swung her decision and her body language was clearly saying that she would prefer to come with me however, ever the gentleman, I opted to leave the choice with her. Had the situation been different I probably would have played it differently but the fact was that I didn’t feel particularly comfortable taking her back to where I live yesterday. Dragonforce (house-mate extraordinaire) had been decidedly off with me before I went to meet Scarlet and made it clear in no uncertain terms that she did not welcome me bringing her back.
Given this situation I really did not want to bring Scarlet round to face a potentially frosty atmosphere so left it. I dropped her off at her parent’s and came home. A while after I got back home Scarlet sent a text to the effect that she had been a spaz and should have made a different decision, but by then it was all rather late.
To be honest, I am rather surprised by how sad this missed opportunity has made me. Standing in the sea (admittedly the murky grey silty sea), and kissing whilst trying not to fall over as our feet sank into the mud, gave me the kind of excited tingles I have not felt in a long time. I’m not saying that I suddenly found myself the victim of a naked chubby archer with suspiciously small wings, I am just saying that it was exciting to kiss and just let go and feel it without the usual internal monologue that accompanies most of my life. Slipping your hand round someone’s waist as your lips touch is an incredibly underrated pleasure.
So in conclusion, even though it wasn’t really a date, marriage percentage: 22%
Sadly it looks like this might be the only time that I see her whilst she is here as the only other free day she has is Sunday and it’s DF’s birthday so I will be attending the family barbecue in the manner of a well-behaved flatmate.
On the plus side, Df and I are hitting the usual rock club haunt on Friday night this week so there are plenty of opportunities for silly blog-worthy shenanigans then. I will probably spill my drink on a girl or slip over on the dance floor at least.
I think perhaps before that it is the ideal juncture, especially with Toast becoming single again and examining his own priorities, to review the qualities I am looking for in a partner. Wicked Shawn and Txtingmrdarcy have counselled me that apparently “brightly colored hair and interest in robots” are not “specific attributes that qualify a spouse”. I will begrudgingly admit that perhaps there’s something in that.
Toast is getting cocky. After meeting The Fez he has definitely pulled ahead and an unfortunate run of Real Life (mostly work orientated) has kept me out of the dating game for a few weeks.
Today he declared that he wanted to raise the stakes of the wager. Well, actually he declared that HE would choose the song that I would be singing. This was never part of the deal.
I cannot sing. I have never done Karaoke. I got into a girly strop when an ex wanted me to play Singstar and it wouldn’t let me chose a song. The most I’ll attempt is a bit of Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” (or maybe some Bon Jovi) whilst drunkenly playing Rock Band.
Aware that I might lose, I have been weighing up songs that I could carry off, perhaps with a guitar for friendly accompaniment. Knowing Toast, he will probably pick something like this (along with choreographed dance moves). Assuming the choice would be down to the loser,I was angling for something more like this (about waking up after a night’s drinking and not knowing where you are. MUCH more my style).
So my options are:
- Take the raise like a man and up my game (whilst compiling a list of evil songs for Toast to sing).
- Decline and protect some dignity should Toast win, but lose ‘man points’ in the process.
- Assume a new identity as a foreign tea merchant and disappear to India.
(Note: Credit due to Gilbert Musings for assembling an EXCELLENT collection of Anti-Valentines Day cards)
At this point I should probably address the elephant in the corner: Valentine’s day.
Valentine’s day can be challenging for people in established relationship but it’s a fairly straight-forward affair at least: you get a present and a card (unless you have an express contractual agreement that she DEFINITELY thinks V. day is rubbish and does not want to subscribe the the shallow capitalist peddled concept of ‘romance’).
Last year I had a Real Proper Girlfriend (a pretty serious one at that) so I followed the established routine, including making a card (as I hate lining the pockets of the likes of Clinton’s Cards on a ‘holiday’ that their industry foisted upon us).
It’s also straight-forward if you are 100% NOT in a relationship of any kind, don’t have romantic designs on anyone and are not fending off unwanted attention.
For everyone else it’s a little more tricky though.
This year I am grateful. I am not sufficiently romantically entangled with anyone to require, or even suggest, the presentation of a VD gift. I have a second date booked with Indy… but anyone who sends a VD card/gift/pony after one date is a bit of a Mental and should be avoided.
This year I want you to consider those less fortunate than yourself: those in the extensive grey area where giving, or not giving, a token of affection on the 14th could be make or break. There are no hard or fast rules for this but to further complicate things, the magnitude and nature of the gift is significant.
For those who may be faced with this dilemma, the only scrap of wisdom that I can offer you is to do something creative. That way you can’t be judged on the monetary value because you have MADE the thing yourself. It’s emotionally significant but only as significant as as the other person interprets it to be and it’s unique. It can also be slightly tongue in cheek in a ‘VD is rubbish but here’s a cheeky gift anwyay’ way.
I think the mixtape is vastly underrated as a gift (but maybe that’s why I’m single).
Of course, if you’ve got no creative skills or imagination you’re pretty f***ed either way!