So some of you readers may remember a girl called Spain. She was beautiful (think a young Kristin Davis but taller), very clever but also a lot of trouble. Nothing actually happened between us, although we did manage to go on a series of things that could be described as dates, if one wanted to.
It didn’t end well, and we haven’t spoken in about six months. Not a peep. Then while sending out the invites for the house warming over Facebook I included her, because well I thought well why not?
She got the invite, and just called like just now. We had a quick chat she asked me out for catch-up drinks.
Blimey. I wonder if she is still trouble? Probably…
Biscuit asked me what was going on with Ms Spain. How she had a chap and then suddenly asks me for date. Well. She found out that the chap is married with kids. Confronted him, forgave him and then eventually saw sense (well had a mutual chum shout at her) and so Ms Spain told him to go away. It was an intense 48 hours.
The story doesn’t end there, because she asked me out last night via text message, and then this morning pretended that hadn’t happened. It was very weird. Here is a graph showing the relationship so you can understand the science behind it and why my infatuation with Ms Spain is over. (click to see it bigger)
So Meh I thought, and called up Date 2. Henceforth known as Ms Fez and asked her out for a second date. She said yes, in an uncomplicated way and now I have to find something exciting for us to do.
The only other interesting thing about these two conversations is that both these women were on the same street, only moments apart. I don’t have tracking devices on their phones or anything like that. They were walking through the same crowds to get to the same destination. It was weird, and cool, a bit like my graph.
Dating in London (again) – You’ve gotta date a girl or two my dear, you’ve gotta date a girl or two..
This weekend involved another trip to London. I had to go there for work so I thought I’d try to squeeze in a couple of cheeky dates afterwards. Having more than one date in a day is challenging for a few reasons.
1) You have to be quite specific about timing.
2) You can’t drink at the first date, well you can’t get drunk on the first date. This isn’t a bad thing of course but just means it’s wiser for the first date to be a coffee and not a gallon of vodka
3) It’s important to remember which story you have told which date. I’m not very good at this bit.
4) No matter how well a date is going, it can’t overrun.
5) While your friends may be impressed by your multi-dating, your dates won’t be.
With this in mind I finished the work thing at about 3ish so made my way back into central London for date one.
We met at a coffee place in Angel. She was medium build, medium length mousey brown hair and medium brown eyes. Medium all-round I suppose. She was fun, it was a giggly date. We talked about hobbies. I’d forgotten about hobbies.
I need some hobbies, you know impressive ones like punching ninjas or cuddling orphaned dolphins. I think I managed to bluff my way through it – luckily she wasn’t an expert in Japanese assassins or marine mammals. It was a short date, she had to meet some chums at six. Sort of very efficient. She was excellent fun but I didn’t really fancy her.
Marriage percentage – 10%
I was stupidly early for this date. So I got to spend twenty minutes shivering outside the tube station. Lots of people were meeting each other for first dates so there was a big crowd of people standing around slightly awkwardly casting furtive glances at each other and trying to work out if that was the one from the picture or not.
Eventually a very pretty girl with huge eyelashes walked past and I thought ‘gosh I wish I was meeting her’ and she turned out to be date number 2. Her photos didn’t even get close to doing her justice. She had long black hair, dark brown eyes and a lovely cheeky smile.
We went to an excellent hotel bar nearby, had a couple of ridiculous cocktails and talked about stuff. Rather surprisingly she grew up only about 30 miles away from me. She was passionate about environmental issues and is a keen rower. It was another laughing date, and so time zoomed by. Before I knew my alarm went off for my train home but I decided to miss it. That’s how much fun I was having.
After the cocktails we went to a restaurant and had a meal, it was a tiny little Thai place. The food was excellent and pleasingly spicy. It was eaten with more conversation about all sorts of subjects. She asked me when I was next in London and I gave an honest but vague answer, it wouldn’t be until I was home that I realised this might have been her asking for a second date. What a berk.
Anyway, she asked if I wanted to for another drink but I said I should at least make an attempt to get home. Luckily I decided that because I managed to get the last train that evening that went even remotely close to the wilderness.
Marriage percentage – 40%
The plan was to get a cab at the train station but I couldn’t get any money out. Oh dear indeed. Instead I managed to barter with the cab chap, I bought a load of booze for him in a corner shop equal to the value of the fair and he would take me home. This worked and I arrived home absolutely knackered and very happy to see my bed.
Weirdly the adventure doesn’t end there, because Spain sent me a text asking about how my dates went and asked me if I would like go on a date with her some time. Blimey.
”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.
If there is one lesson I never fail to learn, it is that plan and booze don’t mix. The plan was to travel to London and squeeze a load of dates into one weekend in a terribly efficient way. I would swoop in on the train, see a plethora of exciting women and then return back to the wilderness to plot my next move. This would have worked if I hadn’t been drinking, if I’d stuck to the plan and I was someone else.
I’m not, and I am a spaz.
I arrived late, because of train-related berkitude (Adj. To display the attributes of a berk) and so only had time to briefly say hello to Biscuit, hand over a bag and then jump on to the tube to see Spain. Yes instead of going on dates I was meeting up with girls who don’t fancy me and who are in relationships. See previous statement about being a spaz.
It was an excellent non-date. I ate noodles, she had a soup thing and we both drank slightly too much wine. She talked about her new chap (Who I suspect is in a relationship with someone else because he was acting all weird, but how to do you bring this up?) and I showed her some impressively mad text messages I’d been sent by an Ex. Then we ambled over to a bar to meet some friends. Yes more not dating for me.
Chums were in excellent form and it was great catching up with them. Spain met them all, had one quick drink and then disappeared into the night – she was a bit broken. Before she left Tate turned up (I had mentioned I was out if she fancied a drink) so I had managed to go on two non-dates with girls who don’t fancy me. That’s got to be worth a sort of multi-spaz bonus score.
Anyway the two objects of my unrequited love met briefly which was sexy and troubling at the same time. Tate was introduced to the chums as well and then we set about getting extremely drunk and laughing. One of my chums thought that Tate was flirting with me, I said this was nonsense because we were definitely just friends. More drinking occurred. Biscuit appeared after his date (see one of us managed it) and we started buying stupid rounds of novelty drinks.
Through the fug of booze I can remember talking some nonsense to Tate and our faces being really close. This happened a few times and then we started kissing. I was utterly baffled by this, I’d be less surprised if Biscuit had started kissing me. Tate said I tasted of beer and I said she tasted of unicorns. This bit still feels a bit unreal, like if someone said they once ate a dragon.
The bar closed at this point and we started to make our way home. For some reason outside the bar we had brief Mary Poppins inspired heel clicking contest that caused me to smash-up my Iphone (I think I won though) before stumbling back to the hostel.
It looked like a short distance on the map but it was long enough to make my feet bleed. Yes bleed. My new shoes were very pretty and had got many admiring comments but they had destroyed my feet. When we arrived at the hostel Biscuit made me drink more cocktails and eventually I fell into bed utterly ruined and still not quite believing what had happened.
It definitely did happen though because Biscuit saw it.