Internet dating - take 1

Wednesday, January 17, 2007


Now, me hartees....
I know that you can't contain your curiosity any longer... but remember: it killed the cat, skinned it and served it up as rabbit.
Back in Bristol and I do like it here apart from having to live half of the week with Ex Boy around (or not as it might be as his social life seems to be quite busy, thank god). Now I can say a lot about his new bit of stuff but a scrubber she's not, and I mean that as in "cleaning" of course. What DID you think? 3 months of absence means 3 months of undisplaced dust and accumulated dirt.
Oh and guess what? Exie picked up smoking again, preferably big fat Havana's when I walk in. Think he's trying to make a point? - Excuse me for breathing, dahling! -

Enough ranting... I know what you really want to know: HOW DID THAT DATE GO?
Well... (drum roll)... very uncomplicated, thank you.
That's a bit of a come down, isn't it? Le coup de foudre it was not! He was very lovely and whoever snatches him up has a good one. I will say more: whoever messes with this boy has me to answer to as he is of that rare breed: sensitive, thoughtful, very funny and won't crack a mirror either. I hear you ask: but why not snaffle him up for yourself, oh wondrous one? One word, dear audience, R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
Now let me take you through the events of that evening: shower and shave (it's called grooming in lady talk) pondering what to wear. Decided on understated casual chic: skinny jeans, little black leather Gucci jacket (fake but made to measure) and my new pink booties finished with a dash of Jean Paul Gaultier perfume. I did wear my rather nice new undies - one never knows how lucky one might get, and if not lucky, one should have been, hah! - Time to apply the proverbial war paint whilst sipping a small glass of red.
Now, readers, I'm not very good at this make up malark and should stay well away of applying it in the company of some red vino but as it happens the lucky stars were upon me and I looked rather passable. I think.
Hair was given that "just out of bed" look and slowly the nerves started creeping up on me. What had I gotten myself into? A couple of weeks of emailing and I set out to meet this man. I must be bleeding bonkers! I did establish him not being an axe murderer or spotty yoof but forgot the possibility of a Hannibal Lecter and he did write he liked food... oh God...
Whilst I was putting on a scarf, to match the booties and ward off the cold, Exie peeked around the corner "Where you going? And who with?" I'll spare you the plethora of expletive 4 letter words that I wanted to vent and as a polite girl left the premises with a cool "none of your business". Bloody cheek!
Anyway, there I am strutting my stuff along Whiteladies Road towards Joe Public's to the tunes of Novastar (check him out!) on the iPod which sounded rather appropriate.
I love Joe Public's, it's a top place and one a girl is not too self conscious of entering on her own. Quick glance in the mirrors as I descended the stairs - yup, definitely passable - and I pushed open the doors, heart beating in my throat. Off with the pod.
Why, oh why do I put myself in excruciating situations like this?...Nobody there but the barmaid! Great, I'm early!
No, he's late!
Bloody great indeed; how to look cool when you're eagerly waiting for a man? Ordered half of Staro whilst halfhearted chatting to the girl. Better to go and powder my nose (not Pulp Fiction style, thank you), kill another 30 seconds. Back to pick up my drink from the bar only to see my date appear from around the corner... He was already there! Sitting down in the first little boothlike space like the good boy he is. Smiles all around for my dizziness.
Anyway we dropped ourselves in the aircraft seats and very pleasant conversation ensued. He was very softly spoken which was a bit hard with the music blasting out. I probably was too loud as usual, a habit from living with a half deaf man for 9 years.
And no, lightning did not hit, sadly.
Not that anything was wrong, I tell you! Au contraire, mes amis: here was a fine specimen of male hood, the one those magazines rave about, but I already told you that. Now why is that I ask you? Can it just be lack of pheromones? Are we as shallow as that?
We moved to another place on the Triangle and went on chatting happily and suddenly it was time to go home. There was a bit of an awkward moment at the street corner as to how to say our goodbyes - nooooo, you cheeky monkeys, no kissing! Although it's a very continental thing to do, peck on the cheek, quoi... and we both went our lonely ways.

Now, for me, I would be sad to loose all contact as he's a decent guy and the emailing made me smile. And there might be that odd occasion (private view sort of thing) where a girl is supposed to show up with someone. Maybe he can be convinced to playing a bit of gratuitous arm candy? Then again probably not...

Voila, c'est tout! Au revoir, mes choux!

Currently listening: Best Is Yet to Come/Wrong by Novastar