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!

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!