Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday Lady Danger, happy birthday to me.Yep, a year has gone, and this Lady is still very much without her Lord. A year of blogging, a year of mischief, and I'm still here. It's a tragic state, but even after another year of no plus one at weddings; no one to warm me up on those lonely nights; and another Christmas of wanting to kill Mariah Carey for ever releasing THAT song, I remain positive. Why I hear you ask? You are obviously pretty shite at this dating game, why not give up and accept the fact that you will be that crazy cat lady who wears every piece of clothes she owns at once, and cracks on to the postman in a way reminiscent of Blanche Du Bois? Well, because I believe that mind over matter will see me through 2011 with good stead....I have a plan....And the Cosmos is hopefully going to help...
Firstly, mind over matter...The theory that through positive thinking, we can achieve anything, whether it be walking on hot coals, without feeling pain, or watching the X Factor without wanting to punch Louis Walsh (I've so far found it impossible - one more year of "you look like a pop star, you sound like a pop star, you could be a pop star" and I may drive to the studio and do him in), the mind is an amazing thing. As to is the Cosmos (spelt with a big C as I feel it deserves respect). So with this in mind, I've decided that through a positive mental attitude; a bit of meditation to focus the mind; and a bit of help from the lovely Cosmos, I will meet my Mr Right, and not just my Mr Right Now (or Mr Five Minutes as has been the case in the last year).
A rather foxy, lovely friend of mine, suggested a mood board - a collage of what I am looking for in a man. She said that concentrating on it, focusing, and asking the Cosmos for help, with an end point in mind (IE when I want Lord Danger to appear by).This will help the Cosmos know what I am looking for, and give me something to focus on, whilst not obsessing. Lady Danger loves a bit of arts and crafts - I'm a slightly arty person when I want to be, so I jumped at the chance to roll out the prit stick and magazine cuttings.
I was told to put down words describing the attributes I was looking for, and apparently a picture of Gerard Butler alone would not suffice. (And I'd confuse matters, and the Cosmos, if I added a picture of David Tenant as Dr Who. I think the concern was that I'd end up with a Scotsman, who pretends to be a Dr, whilst wearing slightly dubious clothes, and living in a vintage police box). So here is my Dear Cosmos list...if you could all concentrate on this for me as well, it'd help...
1)Tough. We're not talking Arnie here, but I would prefer a man with a bit of rough and tumble about him. Someone who can fix my fridge, and won't turn into a nutter after a few pints. More Lord Arthur than Lord Martha (standard) - I am not a metro sexual fan.
2)Confident. There is nothing more sexy dear Cosmos, than a man who isn't afraid to talk to anyone, and stand up to my rabble of mates. They are quite scary. Banter and balls are required. And like me, Mummy Danger hates a shrinking violet, especially in a potential suitor for her daughter. She also dislikes tattoos and the Welsh.
3)Well read. Not to the level that they can quote lines from War & Peace, but a little bit more of a reading history than Playboy, Beano and Viz would be good.
4)Patient. Do I need to explain?! It's me after all. Enough said.
5)Sparkling, amazing eyes. Preferably his own. Not to the point he looks deformed or has to wear glasses like the guy in The X Men. But cheeky eyes are a huge plus.
6)Family man. A man who doesn't want to knock me up right away, but one that won't run a mile if I maybe want to create mini dangers one day. And Cosmos, don't be funny....I do not want to hook up with that man from Newcastle that keeps knocking up women....Especially as I have heard he had started living in a vintage police box.
7) Pretty stylish. No Reebok Classics. No footie shirts. But no male Vivienne Westwood either - that's for me to wear, not you. It looks wrong on the straight.
8)Adventurous. Willing to whisk me someone exciting for the weekend, not to the extent of buggering off to Africa to go potholing with no phone for 6 months. (I'm not sure you can pot hole in Africa....But you get the point).
9)Tall. I'm small. We need to average out the kids. And we know I am height-est.
10)Sexy bum. Grabbable please.
11)Caring. Not to the extent he will piss me off and be ridiculously pampering, as that'd annoy me more than Louis Walsh, but we all want someone to care.
12)No ordinary fella. Not a freak show, but someone you feel has added value to your life just by knowing them.
13)Active. Cosmos, I think Mr Motivator is a Lycra wearing crack pot, but no one wants a boring lardy arse! Plus I will need someone who can run quickly when I am legging it out of the X Factor studio after smacking the Walsh around the chops.
14) High IQ - I love a debate, especially one after a few cheeky drinkies. If they know enough about things without me wanting to add them to my list of know it alls, then horrah. I would however like to start winning a few more pub quizzes.
15) Truth. The ability to tell it, when it counts. For example - not total truth - "do you mind that I've put on a few pounds?", "yep - you look horrible". But lets be honest, and respectful please Cosmos!
And finally, the most important thing above all is love. You give love, and hopefully the karmic workings of the universe will return it. So with that in mind dear reader, may I wish you a marvelous new year, and wish you a lot of love and happiness for the year ahead. If you can all put in a sneaky, good word with the Cosmos, that's a lot of positive vibes coming my way as well!
PS: Positive thoughts are also being sent to Louis. May you find a new job in 2011 that involves potholing in Africa, and not sat next to Danni.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
Big Head, Big Head, Big Head!
Have you ever seen that episode of Friends where Mr Heckles dies and they are clearing out his apartment? Chandler finds his High School Year Book, and realises they had a lot in common....More so when he realises that like him, Mr Heckles listed faults with dates. Big nostrils; piggy eyes; and loud - the list was endless, and Chandler worries he will also turn into a sad, old, lonely man, unable to ever settle due to his fussy nature. He then dates a woman who he previously rejected, and all he can think is "BIG HEAD, BIG HEAD, BIG HEAD".
I've been told a lot in the last year that I am also too fussy. I pick faults in my dates, and use it as an excuse not to venture onto a date number two. I personally see it as a pure and simple rule that I will not settle - this Lady knows what she wants and likes, why should I settle for someone who isn't right, and who's fault will annoy me?! I mean, if you didn't like walnuts, you wouldn't pick them as your food of choice to graze on for the rest of your life would you? Or if Noel Edmunds makes you want to throw things at the TV, you wouldn't happily watch repeats on loop of Noel's House Party would you? NO. So why should I have to put up with premature baldness; annoying accents or midget men just because I am single and should "look" past the flaw!? I'll end up in prison for some kind of rage related incident....Drowning the midget in a puddle; sticking the shiny bald head through a window - you get the jist. (LD has a temper when annoyed....It's not an attractive trait, I'll be honest).
OK. I admit, I sound shallow. I am no super model, and I'm in some areas, a little on the high maintenance side, but I am willing to compromise in some areas. If they don't earn buckets, but love their job I'll happily pick up the tab. But if they are a layabout with no ambition in life? REALLY? I think not.
So my list of pet hates and turn offs are really just me saying NO to settling and I'll be honest, they are deal brakers. Fact.
1) Accents.
Some turn me on, some make me cringe. Give me an Aussie, Kiwi, Irish or Scottish accent, and I'm putty in my dates hand. However, some I just cannot visualise ever finding sexy, and if I think I'd laugh if they shouted my name in the heat of passion.I mean, a Welsh accent makes me want to vom...probably due to dating a Welshy for way longer than he earned. Or a West Country accent - double vom. Scouse - makes me far from "calm down". I want an accent that makes me want to melt, not throw up, so unless they are going to willingly visit a vocal trainer, and have a Higgins style makeover ("the rain in spain falls mainly on the plain") then there's not much point in a date one. I'll possibly want to throw things at them. Even one of my celeb crushes, David Tenant, I only fancy when he talks in his Dr Who accent. When he's a Scot (which I normally like) I don't see us marrying....And I have the wedding all planned - it was to be at Edinburgh Castle, in the little chapel that seats about twenty people. He'd wear a kilt, I'd have a demure little number on, and we'd party after Scottish stylee in a quaint pub style place. But he isn't sexy when he's not talking like the Dr, so like I said, a deal braker.
2) Height.
A very recent topic. I met a guy through match.com a few weeks back, and being a bit of a dim witt, I didn't realise HOW short 5'5 was. Now, I am 5'1, so to be far, he's taller than me. But we looked like oopma lumpas having a day out. Even I laughed when I saw our reflection in the mirror at the bar. I sliently cringed when I saw him standing at the bar waiting to be served....It was like a kid reaching up asking for a squash. However, I had a good time, as he was pretty great in all other areas, and at least when we kissed I didn't get a crooked neck (as a sufferer of neck problems for the last 14 years this was a bonus - but to be fair, I like getting massages so it is cancelled out as a plus). BUT really? I like a tall man so I feel all protected - it's a bit of a big thing for me. I couldn't get over it. That and he turned out to be boring as fuck when I wasn't gin fuelled....To the point I actually did the whole "hello? hello? I can't hear you...my signal's going" then hung up when he was boring me the other day on the phone. But the height was the main issue. I even googled small celebs to work out HOW short he was prior the date. If you're interested, he was taller than Jamie Cullum (5'4) but shorter than Richard Hammond (5'7). And the same height as me in heals. He'd have drowned in a puddle, whether I was holding his head down or not.
3) Profession
Ok, here is where I can sound really stuck up, but to be fair, is it wrong to at least want a man that has a profession?? I'm not saying I want a Dr (unless the Dr is the previously mentioned Mr Tenant), but signing on whilst pursuing a dream of a music career, when really they are spending their days playing Call Of Duty; getting stoned and watching Top Gear repeats on Dave, does not cut it with me. If they are good at their job, love it, and have passion, then as long as said job isn't something like a taxidermist or undertaker, then fine. But lets be honest, some jobs are more appealing. Bankers make me want to throw things at their head. IT geeks bore me under the table. Creatives tend to be a bit too serious at times for me. a nice normal job would be fine but let there be one. I'm not very good at making small talk about Jeremy Kyle, or Janice, the woman at the local job centre who told you she'd stop your money if you didn't go on a job interview - uhhhh NO. have an ambition by all means, but have the talent to go with it, and a bit of drive. It's sexy. I won't pass if you do.
4) The English Language
My biggest turn off with any man, and what could actually make me turn down Gerard Butler.....Text speak or bad spelling. The use of "hehe" has actually made me finish a flourishing dating romance - it made me cringe and get really mad. I can handle "lol", "wtf" and "ffs". But "2morrow" "b4" .... No one over the age of 17 should use text speak. It's chavvy; lazy and stupid. I will be honest - I will tell you to do one. And whilst we are on texts / calls - i hate men that bombard me with "why haven't you text me?" (worse, "y no txt?") - i have a busy job, i don't have my phone with me at work....Needy before date one? Really?
There are many more deal brakers. We know about my worry of dodgy names. Dress sense Reebok Classics? Football shirts when your teams not playing? Umbro? Keep walking. A love of motorbikes? Never going to stand in a field watching you race them, and the chance of getting me in a leather all in one and helmet? Pretty slim. I sound fussy. I sound shallow. But why on earth should I settle on things that i don't like for the sake of getting off the shelf? I am fussy because I know what I like, and if i'm screaming "BIG HEAD, BIG HEAD, BIG HEAD" then you will be crying in your cornflakes and not seeing me again. Perfection is hard and rarely found, compromise is needed, but I know what I want, and the big things matter. That includes height, so midgets, please do not apply.It's been raining a lot lately, and I like walking through puddles!
I've been told a lot in the last year that I am also too fussy. I pick faults in my dates, and use it as an excuse not to venture onto a date number two. I personally see it as a pure and simple rule that I will not settle - this Lady knows what she wants and likes, why should I settle for someone who isn't right, and who's fault will annoy me?! I mean, if you didn't like walnuts, you wouldn't pick them as your food of choice to graze on for the rest of your life would you? Or if Noel Edmunds makes you want to throw things at the TV, you wouldn't happily watch repeats on loop of Noel's House Party would you? NO. So why should I have to put up with premature baldness; annoying accents or midget men just because I am single and should "look" past the flaw!? I'll end up in prison for some kind of rage related incident....Drowning the midget in a puddle; sticking the shiny bald head through a window - you get the jist. (LD has a temper when annoyed....It's not an attractive trait, I'll be honest).
OK. I admit, I sound shallow. I am no super model, and I'm in some areas, a little on the high maintenance side, but I am willing to compromise in some areas. If they don't earn buckets, but love their job I'll happily pick up the tab. But if they are a layabout with no ambition in life? REALLY? I think not.
So my list of pet hates and turn offs are really just me saying NO to settling and I'll be honest, they are deal brakers. Fact.
1) Accents.
Some turn me on, some make me cringe. Give me an Aussie, Kiwi, Irish or Scottish accent, and I'm putty in my dates hand. However, some I just cannot visualise ever finding sexy, and if I think I'd laugh if they shouted my name in the heat of passion.I mean, a Welsh accent makes me want to vom...probably due to dating a Welshy for way longer than he earned. Or a West Country accent - double vom. Scouse - makes me far from "calm down". I want an accent that makes me want to melt, not throw up, so unless they are going to willingly visit a vocal trainer, and have a Higgins style makeover ("the rain in spain falls mainly on the plain") then there's not much point in a date one. I'll possibly want to throw things at them. Even one of my celeb crushes, David Tenant, I only fancy when he talks in his Dr Who accent. When he's a Scot (which I normally like) I don't see us marrying....And I have the wedding all planned - it was to be at Edinburgh Castle, in the little chapel that seats about twenty people. He'd wear a kilt, I'd have a demure little number on, and we'd party after Scottish stylee in a quaint pub style place. But he isn't sexy when he's not talking like the Dr, so like I said, a deal braker.
2) Height.
A very recent topic. I met a guy through match.com a few weeks back, and being a bit of a dim witt, I didn't realise HOW short 5'5 was. Now, I am 5'1, so to be far, he's taller than me. But we looked like oopma lumpas having a day out. Even I laughed when I saw our reflection in the mirror at the bar. I sliently cringed when I saw him standing at the bar waiting to be served....It was like a kid reaching up asking for a squash. However, I had a good time, as he was pretty great in all other areas, and at least when we kissed I didn't get a crooked neck (as a sufferer of neck problems for the last 14 years this was a bonus - but to be fair, I like getting massages so it is cancelled out as a plus). BUT really? I like a tall man so I feel all protected - it's a bit of a big thing for me. I couldn't get over it. That and he turned out to be boring as fuck when I wasn't gin fuelled....To the point I actually did the whole "hello? hello? I can't hear you...my signal's going" then hung up when he was boring me the other day on the phone. But the height was the main issue. I even googled small celebs to work out HOW short he was prior the date. If you're interested, he was taller than Jamie Cullum (5'4) but shorter than Richard Hammond (5'7). And the same height as me in heals. He'd have drowned in a puddle, whether I was holding his head down or not.
3) Profession
Ok, here is where I can sound really stuck up, but to be fair, is it wrong to at least want a man that has a profession?? I'm not saying I want a Dr (unless the Dr is the previously mentioned Mr Tenant), but signing on whilst pursuing a dream of a music career, when really they are spending their days playing Call Of Duty; getting stoned and watching Top Gear repeats on Dave, does not cut it with me. If they are good at their job, love it, and have passion, then as long as said job isn't something like a taxidermist or undertaker, then fine. But lets be honest, some jobs are more appealing. Bankers make me want to throw things at their head. IT geeks bore me under the table. Creatives tend to be a bit too serious at times for me. a nice normal job would be fine but let there be one. I'm not very good at making small talk about Jeremy Kyle, or Janice, the woman at the local job centre who told you she'd stop your money if you didn't go on a job interview - uhhhh NO. have an ambition by all means, but have the talent to go with it, and a bit of drive. It's sexy. I won't pass if you do.
4) The English Language
My biggest turn off with any man, and what could actually make me turn down Gerard Butler.....Text speak or bad spelling. The use of "hehe" has actually made me finish a flourishing dating romance - it made me cringe and get really mad. I can handle "lol", "wtf" and "ffs". But "2morrow" "b4" .... No one over the age of 17 should use text speak. It's chavvy; lazy and stupid. I will be honest - I will tell you to do one. And whilst we are on texts / calls - i hate men that bombard me with "why haven't you text me?" (worse, "y no txt?") - i have a busy job, i don't have my phone with me at work....Needy before date one? Really?
There are many more deal brakers. We know about my worry of dodgy names. Dress sense Reebok Classics? Football shirts when your teams not playing? Umbro? Keep walking. A love of motorbikes? Never going to stand in a field watching you race them, and the chance of getting me in a leather all in one and helmet? Pretty slim. I sound fussy. I sound shallow. But why on earth should I settle on things that i don't like for the sake of getting off the shelf? I am fussy because I know what I like, and if i'm screaming "BIG HEAD, BIG HEAD, BIG HEAD" then you will be crying in your cornflakes and not seeing me again. Perfection is hard and rarely found, compromise is needed, but I know what I want, and the big things matter. That includes height, so midgets, please do not apply.It's been raining a lot lately, and I like walking through puddles!
Tuesday, 26 October 2010
First Dates. The One Rule is Stick To The List....
As you may or may not have surmised from my blogs, I have not been that lucky with dates of late. In fact, due to a random array of faults (admittedly some mine) I have not made it passed date one for a very long time. Some of them were just awful. Exhibit number one - the touchy-feely middle aged ex game show host, who stank of Cool water, and looked like he'd been dressed by a gay Star Wars fan aged 15. Or exhibit number two - the Dennis The Menace lookalike, who was so boring, the best alternative was to talk to a hammered fire fighter who was accidentally drinking candle wax thinking it was his gin. Or my most recent disaster - the fabulous date that immediately asked me out again, to never return from his climbing holiday (my good mate LK still thinks he is up that mountain - bless her optimism). So I am scared and excited all at once, to tell you I am off to the land of Date One again tomorrow night. AHHHHHHHH!
I was given a list of "can talk about / can't talk about" conversation subjects by a very lovely friend after I told her off a disaster date, where the eine had flowed, and my tongue had runaway with mr. Lets just say, I have had a very varied life, and have therefore been told I have to ensure I have a spin doctor style chat with friends pre dates. Some subjects are really hard to avoid, but I have been instructed to use diversion tactics, to not scare them off. Some of these subjects are quite serious, and to be fair, are a part of me, and who I am - every experience moulds us into the people we are, whether good or bad. So, some of these maybe a bit different from my normal source of blogging. But you know what - hard times have given me the ability to laugh at life and myself, so hopefully you can too.....
My "NO Go subjects:
1) Mean exes. Unfortunately I have a few. The worse of the bunch was thankfully nearly 10 years ago, but was by no small feet, to put it mildly, a mean bastard. Why I stayed with him, I will never know - friends and family loathed him and his power over me. He was one of those men that use subtle tactics to control their women - never would he dare raise a fist to me, but one comment / look could make me feel about an inch tall (those that know me, know I am a few inches taller than that - although not many). Nasty bastard, or Moley Moley Moley as my nearest and dearest called him behind my back (he had a rather large mole on his face - I'd love to tell you he was a looker - I'd be lying), berated and bullied me for the duration of our relationship, resulting in 2 years of quite bad depression. Hence NO Go subject Number One & Two - Nasty, mean abusive exes, and mental illness. Both make first dates look nervous, show pity and move table knives away from me. I however see my experiences as a great achievement - I got rid of MMM and got through a few dark horrible years where things like KFC adverts could reduce me to tears. (The one with the bucket in the garden - it was used for a football goal / to water the garden / as a kids helmet, then ends up muddy in the bush. The line was something like "not all buckets are so unloved" - I sobbed for about 2 hours). Possible happier spin on this subject - "a man i dated was a bit of an arse. I dumped him and cried a bit. Now I'm fine. So what do you think of the X Factor this year?"
2) Well officially "NO Go" number 3. Being proposed to a scary total of four times. Saying yes 3 of those. OK, this number is a bit excessive, but can I help it if I seem to be the kind of girl men seem to want to marry??? I don't get it either. I used to be a right pain in the arse to date - I assume as it's been so long, I will have mellowed with age (we can only hope). The first was due to me being young and foolish. I lived with him in an awful flat in London that was a health hazard and a dump; and he microwaved his socks dry far too often for my liking. The second proposal was the prior mentioned MMM. He didn't actually propose, more assumed. I think his words were something along the lines of "so when you move here (Wales) and buy Mum out of her share of the flat (WTF?), we can get married and start having a family. I was thinking one boy and one girl? OK with you?".....At this point there was a LD shaped hole in his shitty new flats wall (my supposed future abode). Then there was the LOML who's proposal was hardly the most romantic, but had the most potential. We'll come to him in a sec - he's a no go subject all on his own. Then an Aussie who friends reckon was just after a visa. Tell a first date the 4 times proposed to, never a bride stats!? Errmmm, they would either think one of two things...I'm either a commitment phobe / runaway bride or I want to get married REALLY badly. Spin Dr says...."I have had a few serious relationships, but unfortunately none of them were right. Do you know what 2 down was in todays Times' crossword?"
3) The next, as mentioned above, is the LOML. Now, this story does not have a happy ending, but the long and the short of it is, for many years he was my one. The closest LD came to getting down the aisle - we had a church booked and everything. Unfortunately when we moved up North, I discovered living together was a whole different kettle of fish, and that the LOML liked a drink. Fast forward a year, and we were separated, arguing over custody of the cat. Fast forward another year and we were friends. Add 6 months and he was dead from an accidental overdose. It seemed the LOML, who I thought was a bit too drink happy with a bottle of red, actually had a serious drinking issue - I'd just never wanted to admit it. However on this occasion, my hand was forced.So when they ask, "have you ever been in love / Or are you still friends with your ex? (and they do tend to ask these kind of questions - don't ask me, I'm not the one doing the asking), it is really hard to divert their attention. If this does come out, they tend to think one of a few things (you can see it in their eyes) "Is she over him? Is she going to cry? What do i say now???". Spin Dr diversion - "yes, I stayed friends with the LOML. We don't see each other anymore though. Distance issues, you know how it is. Is that Vanessa Feltz sat over there?"
4) My wild youth. Stories I am not to tell - my affair with a married aging DJ when I was 18 years old. Streaking at my friends engagement party with her Sister after WAY too much sambucca. knocking myself out falling backward over a grit bin, after WAY too much sambucca and tequila. Going clubbing on my own and ending up at a random industrial estate with a group of guys, who in hindsight could've been really dodgy. Partying with a cab driver on a Sunday night at a Casino. Being adopted for the night by a stag party from Geneva, and waking up in a hotel with no way of getting home (a 60 year old waitress gave me a lift - I think they thought I was a hooker). A few funny, but not date-one subjects. To add to this, my past job as a manager of a well known sex shop is off the list. All of the above scream PARTY girl, not possible girlfriend. Spin Dr says "I've done a lot for charity. I like small children and puppies. How much did you give to Children In Need last year?"
5) And lastly, the main killer of any first date. The admission that I write a blog. On dating and relationships. Men immediately assume I will write about them, when to be fair, I only put them in here if they are tragic and awful......SO most of the dates (OK all) have ended up in here! Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. LD has to remain anonymous for the long haul I think!Spin Dr "I like to write. Poetry and children's stories mainly. I am very guarded about my work. You have very big muscles, do you work out?"
But then, as I said earlier, all of the above are a part of me, and how I have developed as a person. If the datees can't handle the list, then they are obviously not the one for this Dangerous Lady. I won't of course freely discuss these subjects - but if they come up, then I won't lie. It was one of my all time favourite icons, Marilyn Monroe that once famously said "“I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” I concur Miss Monroe, and LD salutes you. Lets be ourselves and see where that gets us.....Probably another blog, but c'est le vie!
I was given a list of "can talk about / can't talk about" conversation subjects by a very lovely friend after I told her off a disaster date, where the eine had flowed, and my tongue had runaway with mr. Lets just say, I have had a very varied life, and have therefore been told I have to ensure I have a spin doctor style chat with friends pre dates. Some subjects are really hard to avoid, but I have been instructed to use diversion tactics, to not scare them off. Some of these subjects are quite serious, and to be fair, are a part of me, and who I am - every experience moulds us into the people we are, whether good or bad. So, some of these maybe a bit different from my normal source of blogging. But you know what - hard times have given me the ability to laugh at life and myself, so hopefully you can too.....
My "NO Go subjects:
1) Mean exes. Unfortunately I have a few. The worse of the bunch was thankfully nearly 10 years ago, but was by no small feet, to put it mildly, a mean bastard. Why I stayed with him, I will never know - friends and family loathed him and his power over me. He was one of those men that use subtle tactics to control their women - never would he dare raise a fist to me, but one comment / look could make me feel about an inch tall (those that know me, know I am a few inches taller than that - although not many). Nasty bastard, or Moley Moley Moley as my nearest and dearest called him behind my back (he had a rather large mole on his face - I'd love to tell you he was a looker - I'd be lying), berated and bullied me for the duration of our relationship, resulting in 2 years of quite bad depression. Hence NO Go subject Number One & Two - Nasty, mean abusive exes, and mental illness. Both make first dates look nervous, show pity and move table knives away from me. I however see my experiences as a great achievement - I got rid of MMM and got through a few dark horrible years where things like KFC adverts could reduce me to tears. (The one with the bucket in the garden - it was used for a football goal / to water the garden / as a kids helmet, then ends up muddy in the bush. The line was something like "not all buckets are so unloved" - I sobbed for about 2 hours). Possible happier spin on this subject - "a man i dated was a bit of an arse. I dumped him and cried a bit. Now I'm fine. So what do you think of the X Factor this year?"
2) Well officially "NO Go" number 3. Being proposed to a scary total of four times. Saying yes 3 of those. OK, this number is a bit excessive, but can I help it if I seem to be the kind of girl men seem to want to marry??? I don't get it either. I used to be a right pain in the arse to date - I assume as it's been so long, I will have mellowed with age (we can only hope). The first was due to me being young and foolish. I lived with him in an awful flat in London that was a health hazard and a dump; and he microwaved his socks dry far too often for my liking. The second proposal was the prior mentioned MMM. He didn't actually propose, more assumed. I think his words were something along the lines of "so when you move here (Wales) and buy Mum out of her share of the flat (WTF?), we can get married and start having a family. I was thinking one boy and one girl? OK with you?".....At this point there was a LD shaped hole in his shitty new flats wall (my supposed future abode). Then there was the LOML who's proposal was hardly the most romantic, but had the most potential. We'll come to him in a sec - he's a no go subject all on his own. Then an Aussie who friends reckon was just after a visa. Tell a first date the 4 times proposed to, never a bride stats!? Errmmm, they would either think one of two things...I'm either a commitment phobe / runaway bride or I want to get married REALLY badly. Spin Dr says...."I have had a few serious relationships, but unfortunately none of them were right. Do you know what 2 down was in todays Times' crossword?"
3) The next, as mentioned above, is the LOML. Now, this story does not have a happy ending, but the long and the short of it is, for many years he was my one. The closest LD came to getting down the aisle - we had a church booked and everything. Unfortunately when we moved up North, I discovered living together was a whole different kettle of fish, and that the LOML liked a drink. Fast forward a year, and we were separated, arguing over custody of the cat. Fast forward another year and we were friends. Add 6 months and he was dead from an accidental overdose. It seemed the LOML, who I thought was a bit too drink happy with a bottle of red, actually had a serious drinking issue - I'd just never wanted to admit it. However on this occasion, my hand was forced.So when they ask, "have you ever been in love / Or are you still friends with your ex? (and they do tend to ask these kind of questions - don't ask me, I'm not the one doing the asking), it is really hard to divert their attention. If this does come out, they tend to think one of a few things (you can see it in their eyes) "Is she over him? Is she going to cry? What do i say now???". Spin Dr diversion - "yes, I stayed friends with the LOML. We don't see each other anymore though. Distance issues, you know how it is. Is that Vanessa Feltz sat over there?"
4) My wild youth. Stories I am not to tell - my affair with a married aging DJ when I was 18 years old. Streaking at my friends engagement party with her Sister after WAY too much sambucca. knocking myself out falling backward over a grit bin, after WAY too much sambucca and tequila. Going clubbing on my own and ending up at a random industrial estate with a group of guys, who in hindsight could've been really dodgy. Partying with a cab driver on a Sunday night at a Casino. Being adopted for the night by a stag party from Geneva, and waking up in a hotel with no way of getting home (a 60 year old waitress gave me a lift - I think they thought I was a hooker). A few funny, but not date-one subjects. To add to this, my past job as a manager of a well known sex shop is off the list. All of the above scream PARTY girl, not possible girlfriend. Spin Dr says "I've done a lot for charity. I like small children and puppies. How much did you give to Children In Need last year?"
5) And lastly, the main killer of any first date. The admission that I write a blog. On dating and relationships. Men immediately assume I will write about them, when to be fair, I only put them in here if they are tragic and awful......SO most of the dates (OK all) have ended up in here! Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. LD has to remain anonymous for the long haul I think!Spin Dr "I like to write. Poetry and children's stories mainly. I am very guarded about my work. You have very big muscles, do you work out?"
But then, as I said earlier, all of the above are a part of me, and how I have developed as a person. If the datees can't handle the list, then they are obviously not the one for this Dangerous Lady. I won't of course freely discuss these subjects - but if they come up, then I won't lie. It was one of my all time favourite icons, Marilyn Monroe that once famously said "“I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” I concur Miss Monroe, and LD salutes you. Lets be ourselves and see where that gets us.....Probably another blog, but c'est le vie!
Thursday, 23 September 2010
And Your Time Starts Now.....
A lot can happen in three minutes. You could listen to your favourite song. Write an email to that person you haven't spoken to for a while. Or have sex with the guy I lost my virginity too (including foreplay I'd like to add). But is three minutes really long enough to decide if a guy is a potential Lord Danger?
Dating in the 21st Century. It is tough - we all have busy lives and less time to actually meet people the standard way - whether that be in a bar over cocktails; through a mutual hobby (in my case, that would be in a bar over cocktails mind you) or through work. I've met people online; through ads (literally - my best mate advertised me); blind dates and so on. We live in a world where everything is done at a pace likened to a cheater, and so have come up with weird and wonderful ways of meeting people. I mean, seriously if you'd have told me 10 years ago, I'd spend time trawling the Internet through pages of Gavin's and Derek's who love their car, and once read a book, I'd have told you to do one. But we lead busy lives, and busy lives mean as with all things we have to compromise and do things differently to make sure we fit everything in. And that depressingly includes the ongoing search for love in my case...
A few years back, I was asked to go speed dating with a friend, who'd heard that a friend of a friends sister had met the man of her dreams and subsequently, her husband, through three minutes of stimulating conversation. How could I resist! It was quick, fairly cheap, and I would obviously meet the man of my dreams.(This was prior to my love of Gerard Butler - he was probably in the Phantom Of The Opera at the time, bombing all the way to the bargain basement section of HMV). So off we went, to the lovely world of Windsor with high hopes and good old LD positive mental attitude.(PMA people - if you are single, and in your thirties, it is your most powerful tool).
Anyway, back to the night in question, where I was to meet the man of my dreams in three minutes of wonderment and unspoken passion. Oh how wrong I was. Firstly, we had stupidly decided to go during the World Cup, meaning we were a little outnumbered in the male / female ratio. On the plus side, none of the men were lager lout football hooligans, and a game involving Germany, playing on the big screen, was a good distraction during some of the "dates". The nine men that had dragged themselves to the bar were a right bunch of IT freaks - yep, every single one, apart from Bulgarian George and a crazy postman, worked in IT. Oh, they all tried to glamorise their jobs, but whether you call yourself a Database Analyst, System Engineer or Flash Developer - we all know it means you sit at your desk, tap-tap-tapping away, rarely seeing sun, and interacting with the fairer sex only when Mavis, the tea lady, brings you a custard cream for elevenses. But, I'm namest, not jobest, so I was happy to sit and sit through the three minutes of their charm offensive. Unfortunately, the most good looking man that night was a tad full on, and asked as his first question "so, what are your three main goals in life?". My response was "to be happy, healthy and my family the same" - quite good I thought, but fit/serious man tutted and rolled his eyes. Bulgarian George spent three minutes telling me how much he hated the UK and wanted to get out - whilst looking at the door, and all available exits. I think he may have been on drugs. The postman, who's name now escapes me, was a roller coaster fanatic, and travelled round both speed dating events, and theme parks throughout the world. I was not impressed with the pickings, I'll be honest. I did not see the future Lord Danger anywhere in this random batch. The last guy,was a magician (who worked in IT normally - standard). He was rude, claimed to be a gherkin slicer and hand model, and a real pain in the ass. But he was at least interesting and is still on my invite list to all birthdays - even though he does do that Harry Potter shit all the time. My friends think he's magic - boom, boom. (I was also his date to his Christmas party one year...bad choice and a last resort on his part....I got him drunk on tequila and told his work colleagues that I was actually an escort. One believed me and tried to book me at a later date - flattered or insulted? It was a tough call).
Needless to say, my first experience left me a little dejected - I hadn't met the man of my dreams. No wedding was being planned.....although I now had the number of a magician to entertain guests when I did capture the heart of my Lord. And I also knew that my phobia of buggy looking fish eyes was just one of the many reasons that Bulgarian George did not get a "yes" in the tick box.
Amazingly, a few years later, I decided to give the whole thing another bash. This time it was to be in London (better pickings I figured) and I was going with a guy. A guy that at the time, I fancied the hell out of, and had slept with. My flash of genius was to go along, look gorgeous, and for him to realise how amazing I was, and sweep me off my feet. Buy one get one free on Pinot, and skipping lunch, meant the only thing sweeping me off my feet was the wine, and my plan turned into a colossal fail. The fact at the time I ran a borderline sex shop, and had mistakenly told the first "date", was my first rookie error. I was stalked all night by those more perverted of the group.The tables were so close together, they could all hear what was going on next to them - and lets face it, men have picky hearing, but "sex" is one word they could hear a mile away, whilst a million drills were being used around them. One guy was so awful, I refused to speak to him for the three minutes - I think he asked if I got to wear the outfits I sold, and if I was wearing anything kinky at that point - it is very possible that he is locked up for being a sex pest now. Anyway, my plan to seduce my male "friend" I'd gone with did not work - shocker. LD got very emotional when my plan of seduction and sexiness failed to work, and I called my "friend" a few home truths and stormed out. To then storm back in when I realised I had no idea how to get out of the worlds biggest bar. I won't lie, there were tears and a scene. Speed dating strike two - not so good, and not even a juggler or fire eater to add to my phone book.
Then we have the charity speed dating event, I helped a friend out with. It was for Breast Cancer Awareness, and my involvement was simply to sell tickets. Easy peasy - I worked in a local pub and managed to sell a range of tickets to gorgeous female friends, and a lot of make tickets to a very random bunch of middle aged men (I swear we had the worlds most boring man; the Catholic sweetie who refused to take off his wedding ring despite being single for years, and a bald Northerner who looked like the guy from the Goonies - as in "hey you guys"). I amazingly had a boyfriend at the time (from the advert my friend placed looking for a date for my birthday - amazing what you can get on Gumtree) and so I was safe from the actual dating. Until the second group of women were subjected to my batch of men disappeared halfway through. During the break, they went for a cigarette, never to return. Panic set in - we were about to have a lot of empty seats for the second halve, so I stepped up to the mark and agreed to take part. Only to have to speed date a guy I'd blown out when the organiser had set us up....Time seemed to stand still for all the wrong reasons when we'd worked out how we knew one another. Buggeration.
So for me, three minutes has only ever led to disaster; hangovers; and a life long friendship with a budding Paul Daniels. I am however, as mentioned, a big believer in PMA, and so I have booked myself onto a new course of speed dating for next month. I must be mad, but I also think that it can't be that bad, can it? I no longer work in the sex toy industry; a will be going on my own (unless my wing man agrees to come with - this will be worked on); and I have a good knowledge of the IT industry thanks to previous speed dating experience (And the worlds best roller coasters)...It's got to work, after all my friend of a friends sister managed it. So all I can say, is come on down Lord Danger, your time starts NOW!
Dating in the 21st Century. It is tough - we all have busy lives and less time to actually meet people the standard way - whether that be in a bar over cocktails; through a mutual hobby (in my case, that would be in a bar over cocktails mind you) or through work. I've met people online; through ads (literally - my best mate advertised me); blind dates and so on. We live in a world where everything is done at a pace likened to a cheater, and so have come up with weird and wonderful ways of meeting people. I mean, seriously if you'd have told me 10 years ago, I'd spend time trawling the Internet through pages of Gavin's and Derek's who love their car, and once read a book, I'd have told you to do one. But we lead busy lives, and busy lives mean as with all things we have to compromise and do things differently to make sure we fit everything in. And that depressingly includes the ongoing search for love in my case...
A few years back, I was asked to go speed dating with a friend, who'd heard that a friend of a friends sister had met the man of her dreams and subsequently, her husband, through three minutes of stimulating conversation. How could I resist! It was quick, fairly cheap, and I would obviously meet the man of my dreams.(This was prior to my love of Gerard Butler - he was probably in the Phantom Of The Opera at the time, bombing all the way to the bargain basement section of HMV). So off we went, to the lovely world of Windsor with high hopes and good old LD positive mental attitude.(PMA people - if you are single, and in your thirties, it is your most powerful tool).
Anyway, back to the night in question, where I was to meet the man of my dreams in three minutes of wonderment and unspoken passion. Oh how wrong I was. Firstly, we had stupidly decided to go during the World Cup, meaning we were a little outnumbered in the male / female ratio. On the plus side, none of the men were lager lout football hooligans, and a game involving Germany, playing on the big screen, was a good distraction during some of the "dates". The nine men that had dragged themselves to the bar were a right bunch of IT freaks - yep, every single one, apart from Bulgarian George and a crazy postman, worked in IT. Oh, they all tried to glamorise their jobs, but whether you call yourself a Database Analyst, System Engineer or Flash Developer - we all know it means you sit at your desk, tap-tap-tapping away, rarely seeing sun, and interacting with the fairer sex only when Mavis, the tea lady, brings you a custard cream for elevenses. But, I'm namest, not jobest, so I was happy to sit and sit through the three minutes of their charm offensive. Unfortunately, the most good looking man that night was a tad full on, and asked as his first question "so, what are your three main goals in life?". My response was "to be happy, healthy and my family the same" - quite good I thought, but fit/serious man tutted and rolled his eyes. Bulgarian George spent three minutes telling me how much he hated the UK and wanted to get out - whilst looking at the door, and all available exits. I think he may have been on drugs. The postman, who's name now escapes me, was a roller coaster fanatic, and travelled round both speed dating events, and theme parks throughout the world. I was not impressed with the pickings, I'll be honest. I did not see the future Lord Danger anywhere in this random batch. The last guy,was a magician (who worked in IT normally - standard). He was rude, claimed to be a gherkin slicer and hand model, and a real pain in the ass. But he was at least interesting and is still on my invite list to all birthdays - even though he does do that Harry Potter shit all the time. My friends think he's magic - boom, boom. (I was also his date to his Christmas party one year...bad choice and a last resort on his part....I got him drunk on tequila and told his work colleagues that I was actually an escort. One believed me and tried to book me at a later date - flattered or insulted? It was a tough call).
Needless to say, my first experience left me a little dejected - I hadn't met the man of my dreams. No wedding was being planned.....although I now had the number of a magician to entertain guests when I did capture the heart of my Lord. And I also knew that my phobia of buggy looking fish eyes was just one of the many reasons that Bulgarian George did not get a "yes" in the tick box.
Amazingly, a few years later, I decided to give the whole thing another bash. This time it was to be in London (better pickings I figured) and I was going with a guy. A guy that at the time, I fancied the hell out of, and had slept with. My flash of genius was to go along, look gorgeous, and for him to realise how amazing I was, and sweep me off my feet. Buy one get one free on Pinot, and skipping lunch, meant the only thing sweeping me off my feet was the wine, and my plan turned into a colossal fail. The fact at the time I ran a borderline sex shop, and had mistakenly told the first "date", was my first rookie error. I was stalked all night by those more perverted of the group.The tables were so close together, they could all hear what was going on next to them - and lets face it, men have picky hearing, but "sex" is one word they could hear a mile away, whilst a million drills were being used around them. One guy was so awful, I refused to speak to him for the three minutes - I think he asked if I got to wear the outfits I sold, and if I was wearing anything kinky at that point - it is very possible that he is locked up for being a sex pest now. Anyway, my plan to seduce my male "friend" I'd gone with did not work - shocker. LD got very emotional when my plan of seduction and sexiness failed to work, and I called my "friend" a few home truths and stormed out. To then storm back in when I realised I had no idea how to get out of the worlds biggest bar. I won't lie, there were tears and a scene. Speed dating strike two - not so good, and not even a juggler or fire eater to add to my phone book.
Then we have the charity speed dating event, I helped a friend out with. It was for Breast Cancer Awareness, and my involvement was simply to sell tickets. Easy peasy - I worked in a local pub and managed to sell a range of tickets to gorgeous female friends, and a lot of make tickets to a very random bunch of middle aged men (I swear we had the worlds most boring man; the Catholic sweetie who refused to take off his wedding ring despite being single for years, and a bald Northerner who looked like the guy from the Goonies - as in "hey you guys"). I amazingly had a boyfriend at the time (from the advert my friend placed looking for a date for my birthday - amazing what you can get on Gumtree) and so I was safe from the actual dating. Until the second group of women were subjected to my batch of men disappeared halfway through. During the break, they went for a cigarette, never to return. Panic set in - we were about to have a lot of empty seats for the second halve, so I stepped up to the mark and agreed to take part. Only to have to speed date a guy I'd blown out when the organiser had set us up....Time seemed to stand still for all the wrong reasons when we'd worked out how we knew one another. Buggeration.
So for me, three minutes has only ever led to disaster; hangovers; and a life long friendship with a budding Paul Daniels. I am however, as mentioned, a big believer in PMA, and so I have booked myself onto a new course of speed dating for next month. I must be mad, but I also think that it can't be that bad, can it? I no longer work in the sex toy industry; a will be going on my own (unless my wing man agrees to come with - this will be worked on); and I have a good knowledge of the IT industry thanks to previous speed dating experience (And the worlds best roller coasters)...It's got to work, after all my friend of a friends sister managed it. So all I can say, is come on down Lord Danger, your time starts NOW!
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
One Night In Heaven?
So, recently the Lady Danger score sheet has lacked any notches on the bedpost. It's frustrating (in more than one way) and quite unlike the whirlwind of craziness and sexual escapades of my late twenties (OK, ALL my twenties). Dates have gone from bad (Dennis The Menace); to worse (Keep Smiling - the ex game show host); to the damn right awfulness of going well and him never calling again (he is still climbing the mountain, I'm sure of it). This array of awfulness at the first hurdle, led me to think that maybe I just needed to get back in the saddle and have a bit of a fling - a one night stand. After all, it works in the movies - Andie McDowell ends up with Hugh Grant (Four Weddings), Julia Roberts gets with her man, and gets paid.....and they all live happily ever after. So, sod it I thought, lets do this!
A lot of shots and a night out later, and I'm shuffling a man who's name was either one of two possibilities, out of my house. The night was a blur; and he seemed really pissed off that a)I wasn't up for round 2 in the morning (exact words I believe were "unless you have two nurofen in that, you can forget it") and b) I live no where near him and was in no fit state to attempt to drive him home. "This isn't how it is in the movies" was my thought once the taste of tequila had worn off, and then past nightmare one night stands and their consequences came flooding back.....
Firstly, where I met my various one night stands has been random over the years, but lets face it, they tend to have drink involved. I once met a guy at a friend of a friends birthday party, and I'm ashamed to say, we left after about 20 mins. (Yes Kaz, you weren't the only birthday I ditched for a fella!). We'd downed rather a lot of wine on the coach on route, and I was smasho on arrival.I think I'd even fallen down the stairs into the bar (classy). As we were in London, and didn't live there, we cabbed it back to his. £60 and some rather rude back seat fumblings later, we arrived at his house. Unfortunately, he lived with his Dad. And had forgotten his keys. So in my drunken Lady Danger state, I had to have a nice "chat" with his Dad, who offered me tea (bless him). All I can remember from this cringing affair, is that my hair was everywhere, and that they had teddy bears in frames in the kitchen (fucking bizarre). Hollywood it wasn't. To add to my misery, this one night stand, also folded his clothes prior to sex; ate a garlic clove (admittedly he did offer me one as well - but really? WTF?) and in the morning, I found out the house had cameras in all rooms. Thankfully this was before the world of Youtube. Would love to tell you it was worth it, but the sex is a blur...maybe i should've asked for a copy of the film to refresh my memory?!
Another one night stand I recalled, was the kick boxer, that I want to call John....We'd had a rather raucous Ann Summers party at mine, involving vodka jelly, a lethal punch that would've sunk a sailor, and a lot of wine. We rocked up at our local shit club, wearing meddles with our names on them. I won't tell you mine, as to be fair, it was quite shameful, but it helped attract "John". I took the poor man back to mine, and we had a match of our own. Only to be interrupted by my mate ringing my bell as she was staying at mine. She had also decided to bring back half the club, who were met my me dishevelled wearing nothing but a towel. I palmed them off with Doritos and vodka, hoping this would entertain them. Unfortunately, they decided to turn into loons and would give us no peace. I think sleep overtook us in the end, and i paid the poor guys cab fair in the morning. He was a nice guy, and sent me a cheque paying me back - bless him. Again though, I don't hear LA asking for the film rights...
Then we flash forward a few years to a rather gorgeous farmer, who was a friend of a friend. Now he was fit in all senses, but trying to get me into positions that would be more at home in the harder pages of the karma sutra, led to me putting my neck out, and having to do the walk of shame without being able to move my head, and looking like a tramp (and possibly smelling like one too). Not my favourite walk of shame though - the classic LD was probably after a wild night at an ex FB of mines. When I woke in the morning, I realised I'd made him pay for the cab I'd taken from the West End to his in South London, and had no money to get back to my train station. Too embarrassed to ask for the change (yet we'd done some things the night before to make a hooker blush), I called my work, where I knew my assistant would have her car. True to form, the rather lovely J not only came and picked me up, she dropped my FB at a station on route too as he was off to meet friends. Thankfully no one ever found out about this abuse of my assistant - it certainly was not on her job description to "locate your Manager, and rescue her when she's had a skinful and got the horn the night before". Who'd play me and my FB do you think? Kate Winslet and George Clooney? No?
These are just a few of the nightmare one nighters I've managed to get myself involved with. Not all have been horrific - and a few to be far have been worse (fear of getting recognised on one in particular - lets just say there was vomiting, and no actual sex as I passed out - again, classy). None have led to long lasting relationships, although one has led to a friendship of 4 years. Only one has been great and really amazing, but then if you looked at my strike rate, that aint that great! So, for now, I am back to celibacy. One night stands seem to lead to nothing but walks of shame, hangovers from hell, and possible YouTube stardom. And this Lady does not want to be the star in her own movie thank you very much! Less is more - this is my new motto!
A lot of shots and a night out later, and I'm shuffling a man who's name was either one of two possibilities, out of my house. The night was a blur; and he seemed really pissed off that a)I wasn't up for round 2 in the morning (exact words I believe were "unless you have two nurofen in that, you can forget it") and b) I live no where near him and was in no fit state to attempt to drive him home. "This isn't how it is in the movies" was my thought once the taste of tequila had worn off, and then past nightmare one night stands and their consequences came flooding back.....
Firstly, where I met my various one night stands has been random over the years, but lets face it, they tend to have drink involved. I once met a guy at a friend of a friends birthday party, and I'm ashamed to say, we left after about 20 mins. (Yes Kaz, you weren't the only birthday I ditched for a fella!). We'd downed rather a lot of wine on the coach on route, and I was smasho on arrival.I think I'd even fallen down the stairs into the bar (classy). As we were in London, and didn't live there, we cabbed it back to his. £60 and some rather rude back seat fumblings later, we arrived at his house. Unfortunately, he lived with his Dad. And had forgotten his keys. So in my drunken Lady Danger state, I had to have a nice "chat" with his Dad, who offered me tea (bless him). All I can remember from this cringing affair, is that my hair was everywhere, and that they had teddy bears in frames in the kitchen (fucking bizarre). Hollywood it wasn't. To add to my misery, this one night stand, also folded his clothes prior to sex; ate a garlic clove (admittedly he did offer me one as well - but really? WTF?) and in the morning, I found out the house had cameras in all rooms. Thankfully this was before the world of Youtube. Would love to tell you it was worth it, but the sex is a blur...maybe i should've asked for a copy of the film to refresh my memory?!
Another one night stand I recalled, was the kick boxer, that I want to call John....We'd had a rather raucous Ann Summers party at mine, involving vodka jelly, a lethal punch that would've sunk a sailor, and a lot of wine. We rocked up at our local shit club, wearing meddles with our names on them. I won't tell you mine, as to be fair, it was quite shameful, but it helped attract "John". I took the poor man back to mine, and we had a match of our own. Only to be interrupted by my mate ringing my bell as she was staying at mine. She had also decided to bring back half the club, who were met my me dishevelled wearing nothing but a towel. I palmed them off with Doritos and vodka, hoping this would entertain them. Unfortunately, they decided to turn into loons and would give us no peace. I think sleep overtook us in the end, and i paid the poor guys cab fair in the morning. He was a nice guy, and sent me a cheque paying me back - bless him. Again though, I don't hear LA asking for the film rights...
Then we flash forward a few years to a rather gorgeous farmer, who was a friend of a friend. Now he was fit in all senses, but trying to get me into positions that would be more at home in the harder pages of the karma sutra, led to me putting my neck out, and having to do the walk of shame without being able to move my head, and looking like a tramp (and possibly smelling like one too). Not my favourite walk of shame though - the classic LD was probably after a wild night at an ex FB of mines. When I woke in the morning, I realised I'd made him pay for the cab I'd taken from the West End to his in South London, and had no money to get back to my train station. Too embarrassed to ask for the change (yet we'd done some things the night before to make a hooker blush), I called my work, where I knew my assistant would have her car. True to form, the rather lovely J not only came and picked me up, she dropped my FB at a station on route too as he was off to meet friends. Thankfully no one ever found out about this abuse of my assistant - it certainly was not on her job description to "locate your Manager, and rescue her when she's had a skinful and got the horn the night before". Who'd play me and my FB do you think? Kate Winslet and George Clooney? No?
These are just a few of the nightmare one nighters I've managed to get myself involved with. Not all have been horrific - and a few to be far have been worse (fear of getting recognised on one in particular - lets just say there was vomiting, and no actual sex as I passed out - again, classy). None have led to long lasting relationships, although one has led to a friendship of 4 years. Only one has been great and really amazing, but then if you looked at my strike rate, that aint that great! So, for now, I am back to celibacy. One night stands seem to lead to nothing but walks of shame, hangovers from hell, and possible YouTube stardom. And this Lady does not want to be the star in her own movie thank you very much! Less is more - this is my new motto!
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
But Why? Part Two
OK, so last week, I wrote about the nightmare that is not knowing why a man does random things. Like taking our number and not calling. Like saying he wants to see you again, then never calling. Or saying he's single, and you actually find out that he's married with kids (Facebook stalking has it's merits ladies and gents, I assure you!). We end up asking why, pulling our hair out, drinking to access with our girls, and calling him every name under the sun, whilst hoping we're wrong.(If this occurs, may I strongly suggest deleting his number - drunken abuse texting / stalking is really not going to make him think "I was wrong - she's a keeper").
In said blog, my good male friends shared with us their thoughts, and made a fair amount of sense. So all was well - we had an answer of sorts. I was content. Until the unspeakable occurred. I have not been called by my date, and I am the one now asking WHY???? I have turned into a phone checking wreck - a mixture of Catherine Tate ("am I bovered?") and a sad girl from a rom-com book, I so despise. (Although if I was in a rom-com book, it'd all come good as I would meet the tall, brooding man from the house on the hill, who I will embarrass myself in front of etc etc - read Happily Ever After for my full theory).
The history - a month ago or so, I had a very nice date with a very nice man. That's the best way to describe it - it wasn't my usual "danger" date - I was highly well behaved, drank soft drinks all night, made good conversation, and stuck to my list of things I am allowed to talk about (penguins; my job; tigers) and avoided the off the list subjects (my old job; exes; drunken stories involving tequila or sambucca). It went so well dear readers, that the unthinkable happened - he asked me out again straight away that night - AND I didn't have to get him trollied first.Result.
The next date though, was to be after his holibobs - a trip somewhere in Europe to climb things (assuming mountains). At this point, I'll be honest, I wasn't that bothered by the whole thing. He was nice, I liked his company, and he hadn't worn a Dennis The Menace jumper; plied me with wine; and wasn't an ex game show host with a dodgy catchphrase. But I wasn't jumping through hoops - my friends were concerned....normally LD would be shouting from the roof tops, and skipping along, singing love songs. So, really I was not that bothered.....
So a week goes by, and in my head, I have this as his rough return day. No call or text appears after a few days, but I'm still not bothered. I still send him a "hey" text asking how the holiday was. When I receive no reply, I'm still not bothered. Theory Number One - I got the holiday dates wrong. He's obviously away for 2 weeks.
Life carries on. Birds keep singing, money keeps getting spent, and the rain appears as the schools break up. Another week goes by. And still no text. Hmmm, OK, so maybe I should text again? obviously. Another LD cheeky text is administered. Yet still, no reply after a few days. New theories start to appear:
Theory Number Two - He's still away...maybe he's climbing a really big rock?
Theory Number Three - He's injured and in a Swiss hospital with his legs, arms and hands in plaster, unable to call or text me. The nurses can't help - predictive text in another language confuses them(they will be Swiss or French - can't remember where he was going in fairness).
Theory Number Four - He's met the LOHL up said rock, and is wildly in love with her.
I go with theory two, against my better judgement....
So, we are now on week three, and guess what? NO communication. Coming from a guy that asked me out straight away; text me telling how he'd had a great time and we'd meet up again after his holiday, this is weird to me. OK, he never said which holiday - he may mean a trip in 10 years all I know, but I assumed he meant THIS particular one. Theories are now getting a bit wayward....
Theory Five - He googled my name, discovered my blog, and has gone off me (a dull shit then if he doesn't get my humour)
Theory Six - The girl who he is friends with on Facebook, that bullied me at school, has warned him off (Facebook stalking slightly admittedly).
Theory Seven - Karma has caught up with me for not replying to the annoying stalker man who keeps sending me weird "I scored a goal at football" text messages. I've not stalked Rock Man, but to be fair, karma might not be bothered. The universe is playing a trick on me. Bitch.
Theory Eight - It was all a terrible hoax - he was a set up from some evil nemesis and was sent to upset me and make me feel shite (there must be one out there somewhere....Mistress Mayhem maybe?)
Theory Nine - He really is highly injured - he was so sincere....and seemed so kind and nice. Of course, he will text, as soon as he is fit and well, and has escaped the rock / kidnappers / nurses etc.
Or, plain and simple, he's just not that into me. And I have to man the fuck up and get a grip, because lets face it, as much as I have said I'm not bothered, I am. At one point I got cross and ranted about being bothered that I was bothered, especially as I wasn't bothered in the beginning - hence sounding like Catherine Tate. But whether I sound like her, Vicky Pollard or Edina from Ab Fab, the point remains that for the time being, I remain unlucky in love, with no reason WHY.
In said blog, my good male friends shared with us their thoughts, and made a fair amount of sense. So all was well - we had an answer of sorts. I was content. Until the unspeakable occurred. I have not been called by my date, and I am the one now asking WHY???? I have turned into a phone checking wreck - a mixture of Catherine Tate ("am I bovered?") and a sad girl from a rom-com book, I so despise. (Although if I was in a rom-com book, it'd all come good as I would meet the tall, brooding man from the house on the hill, who I will embarrass myself in front of etc etc - read Happily Ever After for my full theory).
The history - a month ago or so, I had a very nice date with a very nice man. That's the best way to describe it - it wasn't my usual "danger" date - I was highly well behaved, drank soft drinks all night, made good conversation, and stuck to my list of things I am allowed to talk about (penguins; my job; tigers) and avoided the off the list subjects (my old job; exes; drunken stories involving tequila or sambucca). It went so well dear readers, that the unthinkable happened - he asked me out again straight away that night - AND I didn't have to get him trollied first.Result.
The next date though, was to be after his holibobs - a trip somewhere in Europe to climb things (assuming mountains). At this point, I'll be honest, I wasn't that bothered by the whole thing. He was nice, I liked his company, and he hadn't worn a Dennis The Menace jumper; plied me with wine; and wasn't an ex game show host with a dodgy catchphrase. But I wasn't jumping through hoops - my friends were concerned....normally LD would be shouting from the roof tops, and skipping along, singing love songs. So, really I was not that bothered.....
So a week goes by, and in my head, I have this as his rough return day. No call or text appears after a few days, but I'm still not bothered. I still send him a "hey" text asking how the holiday was. When I receive no reply, I'm still not bothered. Theory Number One - I got the holiday dates wrong. He's obviously away for 2 weeks.
Life carries on. Birds keep singing, money keeps getting spent, and the rain appears as the schools break up. Another week goes by. And still no text. Hmmm, OK, so maybe I should text again? obviously. Another LD cheeky text is administered. Yet still, no reply after a few days. New theories start to appear:
Theory Number Two - He's still away...maybe he's climbing a really big rock?
Theory Number Three - He's injured and in a Swiss hospital with his legs, arms and hands in plaster, unable to call or text me. The nurses can't help - predictive text in another language confuses them(they will be Swiss or French - can't remember where he was going in fairness).
Theory Number Four - He's met the LOHL up said rock, and is wildly in love with her.
I go with theory two, against my better judgement....
So, we are now on week three, and guess what? NO communication. Coming from a guy that asked me out straight away; text me telling how he'd had a great time and we'd meet up again after his holiday, this is weird to me. OK, he never said which holiday - he may mean a trip in 10 years all I know, but I assumed he meant THIS particular one. Theories are now getting a bit wayward....
Theory Five - He googled my name, discovered my blog, and has gone off me (a dull shit then if he doesn't get my humour)
Theory Six - The girl who he is friends with on Facebook, that bullied me at school, has warned him off (Facebook stalking slightly admittedly).
Theory Seven - Karma has caught up with me for not replying to the annoying stalker man who keeps sending me weird "I scored a goal at football" text messages. I've not stalked Rock Man, but to be fair, karma might not be bothered. The universe is playing a trick on me. Bitch.
Theory Eight - It was all a terrible hoax - he was a set up from some evil nemesis and was sent to upset me and make me feel shite (there must be one out there somewhere....Mistress Mayhem maybe?)
Theory Nine - He really is highly injured - he was so sincere....and seemed so kind and nice. Of course, he will text, as soon as he is fit and well, and has escaped the rock / kidnappers / nurses etc.
Or, plain and simple, he's just not that into me. And I have to man the fuck up and get a grip, because lets face it, as much as I have said I'm not bothered, I am. At one point I got cross and ranted about being bothered that I was bothered, especially as I wasn't bothered in the beginning - hence sounding like Catherine Tate. But whether I sound like her, Vicky Pollard or Edina from Ab Fab, the point remains that for the time being, I remain unlucky in love, with no reason WHY.
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
But WHY??????
WHY hasn't he called? The age old question that has been asked for centuries - well as long as phones have been around. Before that, it'd have been "why hath he not called by?" ; "where for art that bastard?" or "he clubbed me over the head; said he'd call by the cave, and hasn't so much as smoke signalled me" (ok, might be mixing some eras there, but point made). Now, I was having a chat with one of my besties tonight, a lovely gorgeousness of a girl, who currently has a nack for men striping in front of her. Not a bad nack to have by any stretch of the imagination, IF she actually fancied the men in question. The men she does fancy, date her, like her (so we think) then after a few dates never call again. And we are all left with a few bottles of wine, stratching our heads, asking that one question, we never get an answer to.....WHY?
Now this is not exclusive to her. This happens to us all. Guys we meet out, who ask US for OUR number, then never use it. Guys we go on a date with, and have a really nice time with; who there and then ask us out again. To never call. (FYI - me at the mo).
I decided to try and get to the bottom of this, and for help, asked a few of my male friends....All of whom have had their share of the ladies, and left them hanging on more than one occasion I expect....
Ex Local Lothario says:
"Well, it could be bacause they either didn't enjoy the date and will say just about anything in the heat of the moment to get away, and then never call," he says on the subject of never calling....."Or they really did enjoy it and are scared that you didn't and basically don't know what to do because they've tried there best already."
But then why that they've had a good time, or suggest a date two? Or really confuse us and snog us?
"Coz every guy likes a snog, wants to feel like 'the man' coz a second date is arranged and doesn't want to commit to anything serious for at least say 12 months?"
12 months?! 12 months! Seriously us women are rarely THAT patient...But then a little confession.....
"I hate to admit it, but it really was a case of get as much as could, from wherever I could, however I could. The lies and twists and manipulation are quite horribly brilliant, but now regrettable". (In fairness to this young man, and without sounding like a bitch to my fellow females, he was a slight evil genius with the ladies at times).
"The life of a player is not for me anymore. Tooooooo many mind games fuck up eventually!As some sort of defence, it actually took quite a lot of work to pull off, so it wasn't bad intentions just mis-spent energy that should really have gone into one worthwhile positive realtionship". Ahmen to that - on this occasion, we have one Ex Local Lothario turned good, but do they all see the light in the end?
Another male friend is still in the midst of his playing days, and hence forth will be known as The International Playboy....(FYI - when asking him just now what he wanted his name to be, I said "The Player seems too easy - and boy, is he!!)
At first he was apprehensive....
"You know by the law of man.......I'm bound to secrecy on this subject and should it come out that I have divulged said information to any member of the fairer sex I would be cast adrift by my fellow man leaving me with only my own mother as a potential wing man!"
I promised this would not be the case.....and after a few hours, he opened up the can of genius that is his opinion....
"This is not a subject that men talk openly or honestly about so I can only explain why I haven't called women back in the past. Its not because I'm trying to hurt someones feelings, its not because I'm an arse, its not even because I didn't like them as I probably did. There are factors to consider here, firstly, I'm pretty sure this is genetic amongst men but...............I have the emotional maturity of a monkey, everything is a joke with me and lets face it, relationships are serious business". (Hmm, he has a point there).
"The next thing to consider is that no matter how confident a person you may be that second call can be scary and even worse awkward........you've gotta think that we go through some of the same thoughts and worries that women do except if we seem too eager we come across as creepy or desperate! The only difference between us is that we don't constantly go on to our mates how she hasn't called / when will she call? / do you think I should call? / when would you call? As the only response we would get is HOMO!" (Loving the honesty - come on, men don't DO sharing as a rule).
"Fact is, if I really liked her, we got on well and I was very attracted to her........I would call next day, stuff rules, stuff mates I would just call. And if she likes me in the same way then its not creepy, its not desperate, it's made her day.............tell me I'm wrong??" (You're not wrong, God damnit!)
So there we have it. Simples. If he likes you, he will call. "He's Just Not That Into You". Men seem to think that this is the end of the argument, but we all know it isn't. We know that saying to our mate "he's just not that into you" will lead to us turning into a 6 year old child, and simply answering "but WHY?".....pass the corksrew; get the Ben & Jerrys.....it's going to be a lonnnnnnnng night.
As for my young man, well I hope he calls, we had a nice evening, but if he choses not to, I will be an adult. I won't call him every name under the sun and make up a nickname for him. I will simply scream "NEXT" and see it as a nice evening that didn't go anywhere......Will I heck - I'll be calling him mean names, and asking my friends over wine "whats wrong with me? WHY?!" - I'm a female after all - and this Lady is like all the rest underneath. I'm sure that out there right now there is a a group of men asking the same, whilst watching Love Actually, with face packs on, drinking wine.....they just don't want us to know. (FYI - Ex Local Lothario and The International Playboy did actually confirm this happens. They both opening admit to having said nights, and crying over lost loves, whilst working their tea zones...who'd have thought it boys?).
Now this is not exclusive to her. This happens to us all. Guys we meet out, who ask US for OUR number, then never use it. Guys we go on a date with, and have a really nice time with; who there and then ask us out again. To never call. (FYI - me at the mo).
I decided to try and get to the bottom of this, and for help, asked a few of my male friends....All of whom have had their share of the ladies, and left them hanging on more than one occasion I expect....
Ex Local Lothario says:
"Well, it could be bacause they either didn't enjoy the date and will say just about anything in the heat of the moment to get away, and then never call," he says on the subject of never calling....."Or they really did enjoy it and are scared that you didn't and basically don't know what to do because they've tried there best already."
But then why that they've had a good time, or suggest a date two? Or really confuse us and snog us?
"Coz every guy likes a snog, wants to feel like 'the man' coz a second date is arranged and doesn't want to commit to anything serious for at least say 12 months?"
12 months?! 12 months! Seriously us women are rarely THAT patient...But then a little confession.....
"I hate to admit it, but it really was a case of get as much as could, from wherever I could, however I could. The lies and twists and manipulation are quite horribly brilliant, but now regrettable". (In fairness to this young man, and without sounding like a bitch to my fellow females, he was a slight evil genius with the ladies at times).
"The life of a player is not for me anymore. Tooooooo many mind games fuck up eventually!As some sort of defence, it actually took quite a lot of work to pull off, so it wasn't bad intentions just mis-spent energy that should really have gone into one worthwhile positive realtionship". Ahmen to that - on this occasion, we have one Ex Local Lothario turned good, but do they all see the light in the end?
Another male friend is still in the midst of his playing days, and hence forth will be known as The International Playboy....(FYI - when asking him just now what he wanted his name to be, I said "The Player seems too easy - and boy, is he!!)
At first he was apprehensive....
"You know by the law of man.......I'm bound to secrecy on this subject and should it come out that I have divulged said information to any member of the fairer sex I would be cast adrift by my fellow man leaving me with only my own mother as a potential wing man!"
I promised this would not be the case.....and after a few hours, he opened up the can of genius that is his opinion....
"This is not a subject that men talk openly or honestly about so I can only explain why I haven't called women back in the past. Its not because I'm trying to hurt someones feelings, its not because I'm an arse, its not even because I didn't like them as I probably did. There are factors to consider here, firstly, I'm pretty sure this is genetic amongst men but...............I have the emotional maturity of a monkey, everything is a joke with me and lets face it, relationships are serious business". (Hmm, he has a point there).
"The next thing to consider is that no matter how confident a person you may be that second call can be scary and even worse awkward........you've gotta think that we go through some of the same thoughts and worries that women do except if we seem too eager we come across as creepy or desperate! The only difference between us is that we don't constantly go on to our mates how she hasn't called / when will she call? / do you think I should call? / when would you call? As the only response we would get is HOMO!" (Loving the honesty - come on, men don't DO sharing as a rule).
"Fact is, if I really liked her, we got on well and I was very attracted to her........I would call next day, stuff rules, stuff mates I would just call. And if she likes me in the same way then its not creepy, its not desperate, it's made her day.............tell me I'm wrong??" (You're not wrong, God damnit!)
So there we have it. Simples. If he likes you, he will call. "He's Just Not That Into You". Men seem to think that this is the end of the argument, but we all know it isn't. We know that saying to our mate "he's just not that into you" will lead to us turning into a 6 year old child, and simply answering "but WHY?".....pass the corksrew; get the Ben & Jerrys.....it's going to be a lonnnnnnnng night.
As for my young man, well I hope he calls, we had a nice evening, but if he choses not to, I will be an adult. I won't call him every name under the sun and make up a nickname for him. I will simply scream "NEXT" and see it as a nice evening that didn't go anywhere......Will I heck - I'll be calling him mean names, and asking my friends over wine "whats wrong with me? WHY?!" - I'm a female after all - and this Lady is like all the rest underneath. I'm sure that out there right now there is a a group of men asking the same, whilst watching Love Actually, with face packs on, drinking wine.....they just don't want us to know. (FYI - Ex Local Lothario and The International Playboy did actually confirm this happens. They both opening admit to having said nights, and crying over lost loves, whilst working their tea zones...who'd have thought it boys?).
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