My inappropriate weekend revealed

I open my eyes. One at the time, as both feels like too much effort. I survey the room around me. Everything looks unfamiliar. Even with both eyes open, things don’t get any better. To my right there’s a red wall and a Victorian window. I have been hearing trains coming in and leaving every few minutes. I realise it’s the Tube, which must mean I’m in London. 

Something snaps into place. London. I'm in Longshanks’ bed. Cringing inside, I turn my head to the left, slowly. There’s an electric blanket on the bed, but I wonder if that's the only thing that kept me warm last night?

------

Rewind 24 hours. I’m on my way to London. Longshanks and I have decided to meet up. I’ve been invited to stay at his place. Shall I bring a sleeping bag? No, I’m told.

I’ve never been here, but I find the place easily enough. How did we do it before iPhones? I ring the doorbell and he appears. Despite being February, he’s tanned. He also has very long hair and a beard. His blue eyes are piercing amongst all that dark. One word: hot. He hugs me and grabs my overnight bag. I’m a bit wobbly on my legs as we go up the stairs to his flat.

He shows me around and offers me tea and a muffin. I remind him I'm not British. He makes coffee. We sit down, sip our drinks, tell each other we look fab. Then we get changed and go out. I have brought an evening outfit, but we’re heading out at 5pm and staying out. I decide to ditch the heels, as there’s no way I can trudge around London in 4-inch heels for like eight hours. I’m tall enough in my flat boots.

We walk along the South Bank, do a silly little ‘horror tour’ thing, stroll loads and talk even more. It’s like the old days - just I finally know where I stand. We live 150 miles apart. He's not looking for a relationship. He points out a couple of times he’s really happy we stayed in contact and he really values our friendship. We talk about our dating disasters. I open up about my ex boyfriend. His personality is quite different from what I remember. He's insecure and the boldness has gone. He’s not as loud as he was, not as cocky. I get the impression that this is the real him. I like it that he’s being himself.

We grab some food, then go to our show. One of his friends has got a ticket and joins us. He’s a great guy. The 3 of us have a lovely time – it’s like being with old friends. By the end of the show, I’ve had two pints and half a bottle of white wine. (I should point out that I normally don’t do pints). Coming back from the ladies’, I plop down on my seat and inadvertently sit on my neighbour’s hand. She’s not happy. When we leave, I have to lean onto Longshanks’ friend’s arm to get down the staircase. Classy. Thank Heaven I’m in flats.

We move on to a cocktail bar, then to a club. At this point our friend goes home and it’s just us again: Longshanks, I and about a zillion units of alcohol between us. There's this moment when two Italians who're queuing behind us make a string of racist comments, thinking nobody understands. That’s out of order. I turn around and give them The Stare. They shut up. Longshanks is impressed.

The club is packed and apparently the bar is closing shortly, so we grab two drinks each. I can barely handle one. We dance, and Longshanks puts his hands on my waist. It’s probably the alcohol, but suddenly the atmosphere has changed. I swivel to put my empty drink on a table, and he grabs me by the hips. I’m too drunk to react. And it feels nice. I don’t think it surprises either of us when he lifts up my chin and kisses me. I get pushed closer to him by the crowd. He kisses me again. The next few minutes are a bit of a haze, but what I do know is that I have to go to the toilet. When I come back (with bare legs, as I had a massive ladder in my tights), Longshanks is waiting for me, holding my jacket. He grabs my hand and we go catch the night bus.

We have to wait a good 20 minutes, which I reckon saves the night. The fresh air does me a world of good and by the time we get to his place, I feel a lot more normal. I’m shivering though, and he has put his jacket on my shoulders. We go to his bedroom. I let go of his hand and start taking off my jewellery. But Longshanks has other plans.

He grabs me and pulls me towards him. He takes my blazer off and drops it on the bed. Then he picks me up. Literally, like a doll. He’s a big guy, a lot taller than me, and he barely seems to notice my weight. He pulls my mouth to his and wraps my legs around his waist. I won’t remind you that I’m wearing a very short dress, and, at this point, no tights.

There’s only so much of this I can take. It feels really good, but I just don’t want it to happen. I’m feeling remarkably sober at this point, and I just move my face away and say ‘please put me down’.

And that is that. Sorry if this is a bit of a let-down, but somehow I manage to talk him out of it, kiss him goodnight and shut him out of his bedroom before things go any further. And that’s how I get to wake up in his bed, alone, the following morning. There's this moment when he comes back into the bedroom to grab the spare duvet for the sofa and put the electric blanket on for me. At that particular point, I’m prancing around in my underwear taking my make up off with wipes. Almost ends badly again. I guess my willpower is a lot stronger than I think?

In the morning, I fear things might be awkward but they’re not. The atmosphere is relaxed. It turns out neither of us has a hangover (God works in mysterious ways). I’m a hungry hippo and devour the fry-up he cooks for us. No sausages for me though – which quickly turns into a joke. We then go out and spend the afternoon strolling in a park and chatting away. I can’t pick up any tension. Things are just like yesterday afternoon.  

Before I leave, he sits me down and says he had a great weekend. He loves spending time with me. He wants us to be friends. He wants to be able to see me even if I start dating somebody. The physical stuff is great, but it just happens if we both feel like it. Then he kisses me on the mouth before I get off the car.

If that day you saw a tall, Italian-looking girl on the way to Paddington, sporting wild hair and a royally confused look on her face, chances are it was me.

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 5

So that was date 3 with Longshanks. If I hadn’t known what I knew, I’d have thought we were fine. Things seemed to be progressing. We liked each other's company, had a good time together. It’s not that complicated.

While we were parting at the train station on our last date, Longshanks asked me if I was free the following weekend. He was going to stay with a friend in a different city and asked me if I wanted to join him. I said it sounded like fun, and he said he’d check with his friend if it was alright to have a guest and would let me know.

A couple of days passed and I started wondering whether we were going to make plans for the weekend. I felt like I was in a weak position and certainly wasn’t going to start pushing and prodding him so that he’d ask me out again.

Mid-week I received an email from him. I was lounging with Handsome Housemate and picked it up on my phone. I had to make a swift exit as my eyes started filling up with tears. Rejection is an ugly beast!

To summarise, Longshanks had written a very long and sweet message about how he thought we shouldn’t be seeing each other. How he could see that I was putting up with his approach because I liked him, but that if I could have it my way, I would have wanted things to be different. He said I shouldn’t compromise on what I want from a man and he certainly didn't want to be the guy who made me do that. And that I was a beautiful, lovely, smart and fun woman and I could easily find somebody who could give me the whole package, instead of a guy with a foot out of the door.

I sent a short reply, thanking him for the honesty and wishing him all the best.

In hindsight, I'm so glad things went the way they did. I felt pretty low for a couple of days, but quickly picked up.

He's a lovely guy, and I can still see all the reasons why I found him attractive. However, he’s not available for the kind of relationship that I’m looking for, and I have put a big red cross on him. There was a slight incident a few months ago when he invited me to go camping with him. I really wouldn’t have been comfortable sharing a tent and all that. I explained that I had a boyfriend and I wasn’t interested in being friends with benefits. He replied that he knew, and the offer still stood. I politely declined.

We regularly talk by text/Facebook/phone and we also met up twice since we stopped seeing each other. The first time was before Christmas – completely innocuous encounter as I had a boyfriend and we just met for a coffee and a chat. The second time was very recently and things were a tad less innocuous – post on that coming soon!

I also wanted to thank Rapunzel and LifeBegins for following... two of my favourite bloggers :-)

Have a great weekend!

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 4

Handsome Housemate wasn’t happy. Not in the slightest. He’s my friend and doesn’t want to see me hurt, of course. And as such he was being overprotective... or so I kept telling myself. ‘How badly can it affect me if I go and spend a little more time with him? I might just realise he’s not my type anyway and just go off him. If I don’t try, I’ll never know’. By the time I got to this bit of my rambling, Handsome Housemate would have usually left the room. He wasn't having any of it. As usual, everyone from the outside can see things clearly, while the people involved are enveloped in a thick, grey fog.

Grey and foggy was also the weather on our third date. We had settled for a walk in a pretty little village, followed by food and maybe a movie. I went by train, which meant I couldn’t stay too late. When I got to the station, Longshanks was waiting for me in his car. I got in and leant over for a kiss, which I promptly received... on the cheek. Now, I wasn’t going in for a full snog (I do have a bit of decency), but I thought a peck on the lips would have been appropriate. Apparently not so.

I didn’t let that dampen my enthusiasm. We went sightseeing and talked and talked and he had his arm around my shoulders while we walked, which felt nice. We stopped for coffee and I’m sure I’m not making it up that he said he’d renew his National Trust membership so he could take me places. I was starting to relax a little, but I couldn’t really let my guard down.

Back in the car, the weather was quickly worsening and we needed a plan. The best we could come up with was stop to buy some food, then go to his and cook up a storm. After that, everything happened quite quickly.

- Do I like spicy food?

- I sure do.

- Would I like a top up of wine?

- Hell yeah.

- How about a movie after dinner?

- No problem.

- Ach, the DVD player in the living room is inexplicably and conveniently broken. There is another one in my room - shall we crash on the bed?

- Did someone say bed??

So, after having spent a good 6 hours together that day, we found ourselves cuddling on his bed. I had no idea what movie we were watching. One of the main actors had the thickest Irish accent ever, which resulted in me missing every other word. I quickly lost interest and started fidgeting. Suddenly his tongue was in my mouth, and the fidgeting took on an entirely different form.

Now without the need to go into detail, here are a few key facts about the concluding part of our date:

- his bed smelt nice and clean (kudos points).

- there was a very inconvenient cat jumping between us every so often. Not high up in my list of sexual fantasies.

- we didn’t do anything that I would be ashamed of – a few items of clothing were removed and flung off the bed, but I came away with my integrity intact (read: my knickers remained steadily on).

When I realised I had to get a move on to avoid missing the last train, I gathered my belongings and made sure I hadn’t stuffed the cat in my bag. I quickly checked myself in the hallway mirror before leaving and can confirm I had the worn look of somebody who’s spent way too long rolling in bed with make up on. We joked about it.

Longshanks escorted me to the train station and off I went. With one massive, ever-expanding question mark in my head.

And just to be clear, none of my sexual fantasies include animals. Thanks for reading!

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 3

So date 2 with Longshanks had come to a rushed end. I didn't really have an answer to his disappointing question, and just sat there staring at him. Not exactly the confident, strong image I was trying to portray. More rabbit in the headlights. As I wasn’t saying anything, my date started amassing a ridiculous amount of information on how he wasn’t sure whether he felt like committing, what with the distance and whatnot, plus he had vague plans of travelling and such, accompanied by a general desire to escape his routine. Ah, the joy.

Now, this didn’t come like a complete surprise. He had mentioned travelling during our long talks. He had also mentioned how he had not been single for long after the end of a long-term relationship, and how he felt like he needed something different. I guess I was hearing the words but I wasn’t really registering the message. My brain would just convert this to ‘we’ll go travelling together’ and ‘I’ll be the novelty you need to shake up your routine and make your life exciting again’.

My ass.

Therefore date 2 was hastily concluded with the first bit of awkwardness between us: he said he’d better go as he had a longish drive in front of him, and also he wanted to give me some time and space to think.

Ouch. I spent the rest of that evening taking it out on the kitchen – the place needed a good scrub, anyway – and ruminating over Longshanks’ words. He had been fairly clear, and quite honest. He couldn’t promise much. He didn’t know where his life was heading. Maybe he wanted to move away, maybe he wanted to travel. He certainly wanted to do something new with his life. All of which would certainly mean hanging out with women, but probably not yours truly.

I was faced with a dilemma: make a swift exit while I was still unscathed and be thankful that he had been relatively honest with me? Or decide to hang around and fall deeper, which would inevitably mean more pain at some point down the line? I can now see clearly that I was driven by sheer lust and physical attraction. How can you possibly fall for somebody who’s giving you none of the right signals? I’m not that naïve and I didn’t believe for one second that I could change his mind or convince him that I was worth sticking around or whatever else. I simply wanted to be with him, just for that little bit longer.

I was still very unsure of what to do and how to face communication with him, when I received a text from him early the following week. I was out for a run and I remember stopping to check my phone and my heart beating that bit faster when I saw it was him – although I could also blame that on the uphill bit I had just conquered. The text didn’t mention us, a potential date or anything in particular. It was just a funny remark at something he’d just seen on the street. It could have been addressed to anybody... but somehow I took it as a sign that he wanted to talk. In hindsight, I think my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

I skipped back home and flung myself into my room. Technically my run wasn’t finished, but the hell with that. I dialled his number and tried to sound all cool and relaxed. If he asked, I decided I’d blame the shaky tone to exercise-induced shortness of breath. Yeah, right.

We had a bit of banter about general stuff, work, pushing yourself to going for a run after a long day in work, our respective weeks and such. Then I suddenly found myself mentioning our last date. How I had been thinking about what he said. How I was cool with just hanging out for a while and see how things went. How there was no reason for things to get serious and committed and exclusive just yet.

Yep, I said that.

I openly and unsolicitedly declared that I was happy for him to go out with me and also with any other girl of his choice. Oh dear. I hung up with a feeling of exhilaration. I had just bagged myself a third date with the man of my dreams. In return, I might have just given away my integrity, pride, and potentially my mental health.

I don’t even like sharing food. Or office stationery. How was I ever going to be cool dating somebody who was clearly up for a game and a laugh, and nothing more? There was only one thing for me to do. 

Buy new underwear.

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 2

Here I am with the second instalment of the Longshanks’ saga. Hope you enjoy!

After our first date, Longshanks and I kept in touch by text and email. He also had an open profile on Facebook (crazy fool!), which allowed me to stalk him sneak a peek into his private life. What can you do? A girl has to be equipped with background info! He seemed very genuine, fun and confident, without being cocky or arrogant. I was quickly developing the biggest crush for this guy.

At some point mid-week he asked me if I was free that Saturday. Turns out he was coming nearish to me the evening before to stay with some family, which meant he could come to me on Saturday morning. I remember being in work and going into an absolute frenzy. He wanted to see me again, and he was coming to me! Surely that was too good to be true. Handsome Housemate suggested I’d calm down. I suggested he’d start looking for a new housemate as at this rate, I'd be moving in with this man any time soon ;-)

So on Saturday around lunchtime, after a morning spent making the house and myself look presentable, I was playing Scrabble with Handsome Housemate when Longshanks rang my doorbell. I was losing by a mile anyway, as I couldn’t concentrate. I let him in, made the introductions, and went to pick up a vase for my flowers.

That’s right. Flowers. Did this guy have any flaws at all? I was so taken. It wasn’t cheesy, and they weren’t roses or anything over the top, just a bunch of colourful stuff which said ‘I like you, and I want to see you smile’. Handsome Housemate came over to the sink while I was cutting the stems and winked at me. Seal of approval! I’ll elaborate on that another time, but he tends to meet most of my dates and is normally fairly critical. Not so this time!

Anyway, I took my date’s arm and off we went, for the long walk I had planned. We got to this lovely little place in the early afternoon, where we had food and a couple of drinks in the beer garden. We talked, we listened, we joked and at one point he told me I looked beautiful, which sent my head for a spin for at least half an hour. At around 6pm it was decided that he was to come back to mine for a bite to eat before he’d set off.

Back at my pad, with Handsome Housemate conveniently out, I gave Longshanks a tour of the house before making us some fodder. I rustled up some pasta while he serenaded me. That’s correct. He had found Handsome Housemate’s guitar and had started playing away and singing... You’re probably thinking it was incredibly cheesy. And maybe it was a bit. But he obviously knew what he was doing and it was just so much fun. I should clarify here that I’d rather poke myself repeatedly in the eye with a chopstick than sing; therefore I just stood there listening, smiling and checking I wasn't cremating the food.

After dinner we moved over to the sofas, me with a second glass of Italian white wine and him with a fizzy water, as he was driving. We had barely sat down and put the fire on, and I was still contemplating whether having TV on in the background was a wise move, or if it'd give the message I was bored or didn’t want to talk to him. This issue was swept out of sight when he grabbed my arm while I was getting up and said: “I really want to kiss you”. 

Uh.

I don’t know my British etiquette very well yet, and to be honest I don’t even know if there are rules for this type of situation. What do you say to that? “That’s very kind of you, thank you”. “Of course sir, go ahead and kiss me!” My brain just wasn’t coming up with anything useful. I sat back on the sofa, smiling, probably looking like a dumbass, for what felt like ages. Then he leant forward and kissed me. It was nice, and felt right, and all that. The kissing soon developed into a full-on snog. So what? The curtains were closed. I liked this guy. I felt it was fine. There was this moment when he came up for air to ask me if I was ok – potentially referring to his hand sneaking up my top. I was. After a while, we decided to calm down, sat back and smoothed our clothes down.

I was still smiling inside when I heard the words: “What are we going to do now?”. Thoughts were forming in my head, of the ‘we-meet-again-soon-and-do-all-this-again’ variety. Before I could formulate any of this out loud, I heard him say: “Are you going to take care of yourself?”

Uh-oh. Massive black clouds at the horizon. Take care of myself?. As in, make sure I brush my teeth and eat my 5-a-day? I have been doing that for quite a while before meeting you, Longshanks. What’s that supposed to mean?

I’ll leave the rest for part 3 – see you soon!

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 1

As I mentioned, I went to London to see Longshanks last weekend. Things went well - I'd go as far as say they went exactly how I wanted. I'll fill you in on that later, as I think it makes a lot more sense to explain our history first. So here it is - enjoy!

Longshanks was next up on my list of online suitors. By that time I had exchanged messages with quite a few people, and I was gradually learning the rules: 1) keep it short and sweet; 2) hint, don’t dissect; 3) if you have a good feeling, drop a suggestion to meeting up.

I stumbled upon Longshanks' profile because the site listed him as a potential match. Lord knows why, as he lived one and a half hour away from me. Details, eh! Unfortunately, by the time I noticed this tiny issue, I was already laughing at the witty description of himself and drooling over his pictures.

Did I mention I’m a sucker for unconventional beauty? I am! This guy is mixed race, the kind of person whose eyes tell tales from another continent. I pondered for about 10 seconds before sending him a message which read: “Finally somebody interesting on this site! Glad to find out that my ‘foreign’ radar seems to be working fine.” This was followed by some general pleasantries.

Cheesy, I know. But his foreign radar must have been switched on too, as he replied pretty soon, and we exchanged emails for a week or so before deciding to meet up. Our messages were light-hearted, fun and a tad flirty. I really felt I could be myself with him.

We met up on a sunny Sunday in a city halfway between us. We had arranged to go ice-skating, followed by lunch and a walk. It might sound ambitious, but I think we both knew we'd have a fun time together. Walking out of the station, I recognised him straight away: I have never met anybody with such a striking appearance. We hugged and kissed on the cheeks and I don't remember the slightest hint of awkwardness between us. The day went by like a dream. While I was trying to skate backwards, I bumped into him really hard, which almost sent him fly to the ground. I held his stinky socks when he went to pick up our shoes. We went for coffee after that, then a walk, then lunch, followed by more walking, plus another coffee while waiting for my train (I know!). We spent something like 6 hours together. When we parted, he kissed me on the cheeks and said: “Let me know your plans!”. 

On the train home, my emotions were all over the place. My plans? How do you mean? Like, apart from marrying you and having your babies? I texted Handsome Housemate to say I had butterflies in my tummy. His reply was “Ooooohhh!”. He knew he’d have to hear all about this guy later on.

That evening I was on the sofa having pizza with Handsome Housemate. I couldn’t stop talking about my date, and how I thought he was ‘out of my league’. Before I get told off, I’ll clarify. I quite like myself. I think I’m fun and smart(ish) and I scrub up alright. But this guy was so damn sexy and smart and interesting that I couldn’t possibly believe he'd be interested in little me. Halfway a detailed description of my day - I could tell that Handsome Housemate’s eyes were glazing over – my mobile beeped. Oh, the sweetest sound on earth. The screen read: “Longshanks – Text”.

Now, in different circumstances this would call for a cliff-hanger, but I appreciate that’s a trick for experienced bloggers and I will not go there! ;-)

So, I opened the message which read: “Thanks for the coffee sweet. It was lovely. Hope you have more. Longshanks x”. Before any inappropriate thoughts form in your brains, that wasn’t a euphemism for anything. I’d had some unusual Italian sweets in my handbag and I had given him one for his drive back.

That was that. Suddenly I was ecstatic. He liked me! He fancied me! He wanted to see me again!! Handsome Housemate tried to butt in saying he probably just liked the sweet. COME ON!! Wake up and smell the coffee (sweet)! That was clearly a declaration of everlasting love, non?

It’s at that very second that I started planning our second date. More to come soon!

Pupa x

My inappropriate weekend

This is just a quick break from my past dates to jump briefly into the present, as I have something to get off my chest: this weekend I'm going to visit Longshanks.

Of course you don’t who Longshanks is, or his significance in my life. I will get to him pretty soon, but in the meantime I want you to know that I will be staying with him for the weekend. He has recently moved to London, so I will do the 2-hour trek to spend the weekend with him. I only saw him once since we were dating back last year, but I had a boyfriend at the time; we just happened to be in the same city and went for a quick coffee. Nothing else to note on that occasion!

I have no idea what to expect from this weekend, but I know I’m a bit too excited for it to be considered a ‘standard’ visit to a friend. I have been worrying about what I’ll be wearing and such. Not good.

Handsome Housemate is not happy. You couldn’t possibly understand now, but I can assure you he has his reasons.

I have decided to ignore him and go for it. No doubt you’ll hear all about it later on.

Ciao for now and have a great weekend!

Pupa x

John of the Moors – part 2

A few days had gone by after my first quite unimpressive date with John of the Moors, and he had got in touch a couple of times. I’m not really the rude type, and find it pretty difficult to just give somebody the cold shoulder. Either I explained politely that I didn’t want to go on another date with him, or I just agreed to it. And as the spineless push-over that I am, of course I felt I only had one alternative.

There is just one word to describe how this second date went: bland. It’s not that easy for things to be bland when I’m around, at least if you don’t know me well. As I’m still pretty foreign in my ways and habits, normally within 20 minutes of being with a new person I will get something wrong, make a social faux-pas or misunderstand a crucial bit of the conversation. Let’s say I provide a good canvas for fun and banter. Like the time I said I considered English people to be dirty as they don’t have bidets in their bathrooms. Never heard back from him!!

So, John of the Moors and I went off for a lovely walk on the beach, followed by fish and chips by the waterfront. One thought was going through my head for the whole time: bland. I didn’t feel attracted to him, I didn’t really want to ask him more questions, I didn’t want to go somewhere else after we finished our food. I just wanted to click my fingers and be at home... alone.

I felt pretty bad as he was trying really hard and paying me lots of lovely compliments. But I was bored to tears. However, our date took an unexpected turn when he decided to steer the conversation to politics. The guy clearly had a trick up his sleeve! While we were walking back to the car, he thought it would be appropriate to let me know what he thought of immigrants, particularly Eastern Europeans, who come into this country and steal jobs.

Oh dear. I really hadn’t seen that coming. One thing I won't put up with is bigoted, right-winged idiots. He must have noticed my eyes getting wider and my jaw dropping, because he quickly added ‘Oh, I didn’t mean you. You had a job when you came over.’ I’d love to say that I had a witty and intelligent reply to that, but the truth is I didn’t. I just went very quiet. Needless to say, the car journey back home felt endless. Again, I asked him to drop me off in town, and this time I didn’t leave him any time to trick me into his future plans. Instead, I opted for what I consider the aftermath of a bad date: retail therapy. Every time I feel the need to buy a pair of shoes after a date, I know for sure that my ‘relationship’ with this guy is on its last legs.

I dropped him a rather casual email the day after, which he seemed to take well. We tried to stay friends, but I found that pretty uncomfortable. Contact got less and less frequent and then stopped.

On my next search on the dating site, I unticked ‘conservative’ and ‘ultraconservative’ from my search parameters.

Stay tuned to read all about my next dating disaster!

Pupa x

John of the Moors – part 1

My first online victim was John of the Moors. We’ll call him like this because he was a country boy at heart, and also worked in conservation.

After lots of ruminating, I had finally managed to compose a decent profile, put it up, and pay a 6-month membership on a well-known dating site. I decided to go for a paid one as it somehow felt more reliable. Whether that’s true or not, I never discovered!

John of the Moors’ email was the very first ‘normal’ message I received. By normal I mean that it had clearly been written especially for me, with all due respect for spelling, punctuation and the like (extra points – I can't stand ppl who overdo it wiv txt speech). It was relevant, mentioned his love for all things Italian and also intelligent, without being pushy or boasting. His profile was along the same lines: one picture, albeit blurry, in which he looked pleasant enough, interesting but random information about himself, polite and gentlemanly, and local as well. Bingo!

I sent a very well-thought out reply the day after, and that started our email exchange – a few per week. This went on for about 2-3 weeks, with no mention ever of meeting up. I didn’t want to be the one who made a move – that’s the man’s job, if you ask me. He seemed shy and hinted to it a couple of times, but never really proposed anything. I was starting to lose hope.

Finally, after about a month of chatting, he mustered the courage and asked me out. We met up on a Sunday and decided we’d go to a nearby National Trust place for a walk and a bite to eat. I was very excited and extremely nervous.

I walked to our meeting point and stopped briefly before getting there to check myself in a pocket mirror – you know, ensure I had no black bits/lipstick on my teeth, smudged make-up, the usual. My heart was pounding. Then I turned the corner and I saw him.

Uhm.

Now, why do some men feel the need to lie about their height? You’re hardly going to be able to disguise it when we meet in the flesh, are you? I’m 5.8, maybe a smidgen taller. His profile said 5.11. Really? Wouldn’t that mean that if we’re both wearing trainers - which we were – you should be about 3 inches taller than me? It’s not rocket science. Even a numpty like me gets it. So I can’t really explain how come he was about the same height as me, including the spiky hair.

As you can tell, it didn’t start off very well. I like tall guys, but I also like honest guys. Not a smart move.

Anyway, we got in his car and off we went. Quick side note: I did think it might be a bit off to get in a complete stranger’s car. But somehow it felt like I knew him, it was the middle of the day and we were surrounded by people and tourists. I tend to trust my gut instinct on this stuff.

We started chit-chatting and I immediately noticed a problem: where was the volume? This guy was speaking so quietly I could barely tell he was talking at all. I had to ask him to repeat every other sentence. Ok, I’m foreign, but this was nothing to do with his accent or my understanding of it... I needed more volume! Things got better when we got out of the car. Maybe it was just a severe case of noisy engine?

Our walk was pleasant, as was our lunch break. He was very polite, attentive, intelligent and stared at me with big adoring eyes for the whole time. A bit intimidating. I’m all for eye contact, but I could sense this guy looking at me also when I was not looking at him, while we were not talking or we were tucking into our food instead. I felt a bit scrutinised. Maybe I had something in my teeth?

After a lot of staring, we returned to the car and drove back to the city. He wanted to drive me home but I didn’t really want him to see where I lived. So I asked him to drop me somewhere in town. We kissed on the cheeks (awkward) and out I went.

On a 1-10 scale? Probably 6. Not terrible, but it could have been a lot better. While I was strolling through town, I started composing in my head the text I would be sending later that evening or the day after. "Although I had a lovely day and I felt like we had a few things in common, I don’t think there was a connection blah di blah”. Then I stopped and mentally kicked myself.

I suddenly remembered that, just before the awkward cheeks-kissing, I had agreed to go on another date with him. You see, I was in a real rush to get out of that car. And I’m such a people-pleaser. That seemed like the easy way out. I had a clear image of myself smiling sweetly and saying ‘sure’ after he had said ‘maybe we can do this again’.

Oh bummer.

Me, myself and online dating

My first proper encounter with online dating took place in March last year. I say 'proper' as I’d had a brief stint on it when I was still living in Italy, soon after the end of my relationship with the Ugly Bastard (we’ll get to him at some point). So I wasn’t a complete online dating virgin, but a good few years had passed and internet dating was a very different ballgame in Italy at the time – very frowned upon, not openly talked about, and consequentially mostly shunned by women. None of my friends at the time knew that I had gone on a few dates with people I had met online... and to be fair, I did meet a couple of odd people! I might even add a little ‘Italian dates’ section on here later on.

But anyway, after the end of my long-term relationship with my Italian boyfriend and my brief spell hanging out with cyber-weirdos, I decided to jump ship and moved country. Soon after that, I had a phase of meeting people online, but it was mainly social networking and the like, as I was trying hard to make friends in the UK. I did go out with a couple of nice blokes which I met in clubs and such, but soon realised it felt too early for me to be dating again. The Ugly Bastard had left a big emotional scar and I needed time to heal. I’m not really into casual dating or playing games, therefore I decided to just be single for a while.

I’m not ashamed to say that weeks turned into months, which quickly became years. Certainly the longest dry spell since my teens! I can partially blame it to work, which took on a very busy turn, and partially to the existence of Handsome Housemate.

Handsome Housemate would deserve a separate post, and maybe one day he’ll get one. We’ve been best buddies since the day we met, the way it normally doesn’t happen with male friends. We have lived together for over 3 years now, and he’s always made me feel like I have somebody to go home to. I genuinely believe that for a long time I didn’t feel like I needed a BF as I could just go home and crash on the sofa with him. I’m also sure that we both missed out on several potential opportunities, as people often mistake us for a couple. We’re planning to have T-shirts made which read: “I’m not with him/her”, with a massive arrow underneath.

Even so, there’s only so long you can concentrate on friends and work and keep ignoring men, so, as time was passing, I'd find myself scanning the crowds when I was out, checking out men in the canteen at work, and letting friends introduce me to single guys. Despite living in a city, there seems to be a distinct lack of suitable bachelors in my age range. Everybody seems to either be a student (23 or younger, eek) or, well, a lot older. Online dating was the next natural step.

In my next post, I’ll tell you all about my first online date, and the lessons it taught me. Talk to you soon!

Pupa x