3 dates in 3 days

Ok so I've clearly pleaded once or twice to the love and dating karma gods to deliver on the man front, particularly the romantic man front mainly as all girls do from time to time. Only this time they appear to have delivered.

In the last three days I have been approached by three separate guys for dates. Flattering yes. Exciting yes. Unexpectedly annoying yes.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful nor petty nor one of those girls who have impossible standards designed to intimidate, frighten and self consciously ensure your unhappiness for the rest of your life. Not at all. It's just that there's something missing. With all three.

How can this be? Am I just being asked out by the wrong guys? I am the first to admit that I've often felt like I had the word A tattoed on my chest to attract either Adulterers, Asshats or Animals. Only it seems this time to have changed to 'Mr Very Nice and Want to Romance the Pants of off  You', who have the sexual appeal of a dishrag.

All the men (how awful does that sound!), who asked for my phone number, asked nicely, I hadn't been overly flirting or even all that interested. Nor did I lead them on. One on a bus, one on a tube and one at a pub. All unexpectedly. But being the girl I am and always saying yes to new opportunities I happily gave my number thinking why not, what harm can come to it.They all seemed like nice men, all be a little bit desperate.

Only now I have been on the recieving end of countless messages from all three, lets call them Larry, Harry and Barry. All have been asking me to go to french restaurants with them, go kayaking, go on picnics and pub crawls. All very nice, but it doesn't make my heart beat faster when I  think of them. Wouldn't a quick drink suffice? Why the constant text banter pretending they know you or who you are? I thought that was the purpose of dating, to get to know someone and not presume? It all a big fat turn off for me. I don't want to be wined and dined because I'm a woman and they want one and any variety will do. 

I don't even get flustered or smiley when I get a message from them, in fact I forgot to respond to one for a whole day. Not deliberately, but I just had a busy day and they weren't high on my radar. Verdict is - no tummy tickles, where you feel that spark of excitement at what might or could be just around the corner.

Nada. Zip. Zilch.

So now, because I don't feel any of that spark I'm facing the prospect of turning down not just one guy, but three guys, in three days all down to chemistry. I fear this will tempt the rath of the dating karma gods immensely as well. I asked for it didn't I? They delivered didn't they? And yet I turn down the offerings.

You would think recieving 3 date offers in 3 days would make any girl feel special but instead I feel the opposite, I want to hide under my bed for a week. But better to end things now rather than lead anyone on. My theory is, when its right, it feels right. And this feels like it should feel right, but at the same time feels very wrong. And not wrong in the good way.

So goodbye Larry, Harry and Barry and hello bed.

At least there is always bob, he can't give cuddles but he can sure put a smile on a girls face.

xx
jh

Guessing my bra size is not the way to my heart..

After watching some of the Sevendays series on channel4 this week, where one of the girls, Samantha braves speed dating for the first time, got me thinking about some other disasters I've had when its come to speed dating. And unlike Samantha, I've been on more than one speed dating adventure.

The experience I'm thinking about is the the most recent one. A night in soho (yet again) at a big speed dating group event (more than 300) so the odds have got to be good haven't they?

There were several options on the night:
a) go in the speed dating circle area and mingle in your alloted 2 mins, chancing an encounter with Mr right or Mr very very wrong
b) Wander around looking awkward, grasping your drink like a life bouy while also trying to look interesting enough for someone to have a conversation with
c) or go check out the flirtwall (where photos of everyone attending is up) and rate the talent or lack there of and cast a surreptious look at your own to see if any messages had been left
d) Or better yet play random games . By games I don't mean whips and handcuffs, although that would give an interesting twist to the evening. No games as in the girls wear locks around their necks and boys have keys and each try to see if their's 'fits'.

All these are supposed to be conversation starters but on more than one occasion I felt my lock had been violated. Naturally, the lock hung down low on my chest, nestled amongst the impressive clevage I had broken out just for tonight.  Several incredibly shy men would come up with hands and arms outstretched reaching for my chest. The first couple I swatted away thinking they were planning a feel up mission. Until I clicked that they were after my lock, not my nipples for the world's most painful nipple cripple. (Flashbacks from my childhood still haunt me) I was surprised by all this, really, shouldn't you ask my name first before we start sharing parts or putting our bits together? You would think so, but apparently not.

So when the bell rings to start the speed dating session it's safe to say I was more than mildly relieved that men wouldn't be grasping for my chest for the next half an hour.

Contestant No 1: So how old are you? (clearly he's decided to dispense with niceities and just jump right in)
Me: Ermm 26, how about you?
Contestant No 1:So how do you feel about babies?
Me: Erm.. what do you mean?
Contestant No 1: How do you feel about them?
Me: (I honestly can't for the life of me keep up, he's clearly ascertained that I'm still of child bearing quality so he's decided to find out if I want one, but I can't quite believe he's going there and so when in doubt, I respond with funny:) What as, seeing you dressed up as one?
Contestant No 1: No as in having one? (He says this deadpan, no giggle no smile. Tough crowd)
Me: Umm, one day maybe..
Contestant No 1: No with me... in the next six months
Me: Ahherm what?
Contestant No 1: With me.. in the next six months or so..
Me: ahh no, I don't think so, I dont even know you
Contestant No 1: Well we have nothing further to  talk about then.

Strike 1

Contestant No 2: Hello there J, nice to meet you
Me: Hi M, are you having a good night so far?
Contestant No 2: Yeah it's going alright, free drinks are going  down well aren't they and theres some alright looking birds here
Me: Yes it looks like its going to be a good night
Contestant No 2: So you're a bit of a big girl aren't you.. I'd say..(I cut him off at this point)
Me: Excuse me?? (Telling any girl she is big is never, ever a compliment. Even if it's to say her smile is big. Boys please note.)
Contestant No 2: Sorry, that's rude of me, it's just that it's the first thing I think of because of the work I do
Me: What work do you do? (Still not impressed, but willing to investigate the origin of his rudeness)
Contestant No 2: Oh I make bras, I design them and have my own website (this is a guy who is rather tubby, in his late 30s with a porn star moustache.. seriously?)
Me: Well do you offer two for ones? (Clearly not taking him seriously)
Contestant No 2: Yeah of course we do.. I'd say you are a 38F
Me: Wrong buddy
Contestant No 2: Clearly you aren't wearing the right bra then
Me: Pretty sure I'm going to go with the La Sensa bra measuring expert over a guy I met in a bar. Sorry
Contestant No 2: I've got some really nice red ones which would look good on you
Me: Sorry but I'm going to point out the obvious here mate, but talking about bras, is not suitable dating conversation for someone you've just met. But what I can suggest for you though is a visit to the library
Contestant No 2: Well you asked, I'm just making conversation. What? Why the library?
Me: To borrow out Dating for dummies.. Ok so I think this is where I say next?

Strike 2

Contestant No 3: So J, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?
Me: Just trying out something new, go pain, no gain or something like that
Contestant No 3: But seriously, why are you single?
Me: Well that's a million dollar question, why don't you ask me something a bit more simple like my favourite food or something?
Contestant No 3: No really, I want to know your dreams, your hopes, your life. Tell me everything from day one
Me: Ahh what? As in from birth?
Contestant No 3: Yes I want to see the real J
Me: (I've kind of had it by about now and think you know what, I'm a bit sick of the loonyville I'm currently trapped in and decide, its time to turn my looniness up a notch.) Well my story is a bit complicated and not overly happy (I say with a mock sad face and downcast eyes)
Contestant No 3: Go on, go on...lets get down to the real J
Me: Well I was born Jason and it wasn't until I was 5 that I realised I wanted to be a woman. My parents were very supportive and I changed my name to J when I was 16 and have just completed my gender reassignment transistion. I'm ready to meet a man, I have all the right parts and deep down I'm a girl through and through
(Cue silence.. dead silence, his mouth is set in an O and it doesn't look like its going to change anytime soon. His eyes are like saucers, I'm pretty sure if I poked one, it would spin around on the spot. He seems to stopped breathing and his hands have moved really far away from me, to the otherside of his lap, looking unnaturally like he's trying to do some kind of back stretch. I know I've just comitted social suicide but its just so damn enjoyable.)
Contestant No 3: Ahh.. well thats.... interesting
Me: Oh I knew you'd understand. I knew it from the moment I saw you that we'd connected. Now you know it all. What about you? What led you to become you, tell me all your dreams and how I can make them come true (I flutter my eyelashes at the end, playing the act of a bonafide bunny boiler. This is far too enjoyable, I should have broken the crazy out much much earlier in the evening)
Contestant No 3: Ahhemm.. well you see, actually I need to go to the bathroom, do you mind?
Me: Oh not at all, I might join you. (His face was a sheer mask of horror). The ladies of course
Contestant No 3: Of course, well nice to meet you
Me: Oh very nice to meet you, I'll come find you later to hav ea proper chat
Contestant No 3: (cue awkard hiccup of a laugh and the fastest exit I've ever seen. I'm pretty sure he didn't stop running until he'd jumped on the piccadilly line tube)

Strike 3....

I know that was a tad mean of me, but it was possibly one of the most exhausting but hilarious nights I ever had. It makes you realise all the many faces people put on when they are dating and how these mask the many other truths beneath. I had fun, that much is for sure, I'm sure there are a few who are mildly traumatised by my actions and I do apologise. I certainly was not born a man and I am not even the slightest bit infected with bunny boiler syndrome.

Verdict on speed dating: 8 parts crazy, 2 parts sane. In my eyes I consider it to be akin to social russian roulette. Only for the brave, stupid and gamblers. Those with weak stomachs should stay home and watch re-runs of sleepless in seattle or pride and prejudice.

xx
jh

The age of the gentleman

I may have just had a close encounter of the third kind. No, I'm not talking about being beamed up to a UFO and probed and poked, although that would make for an interesting story. This encounter was with one of London's most elusive characters. The Gentleman.

During my three years living and working in London  I've become more than accustomed to all the cut throat tube door entrance shoving, discreet elbowing, guerilla hand bag maneuvering and tactical eye contact avoidance that comes with the daily tube and bus working day commute. The mantra  most repeat to themselves is it's every man and woman for themselves and keep calm and carry on.

But tonight, chivalry was the order of the hour and Mr Darcy himself made an appearance, this time not in the form of the pages from a jane austen classic or from one of my silly daydreams.

I was stuck on the C11 bus with many other tired weary souls who just wanted to get home and  out of the sea of traffic which had somehow snaked into one of the world's worst traffic jams. The bus was already packed to the rafters, and I was one of many standing. It was a perilous choice, either lean my face away from one commuter's musky, sweaty armpit only to end up pushed up against someon's back which was already damp and slimy with back sweat.  Hardly the setting for a chivalrous act to say the least.

When the girl hopped on the bus, she looked bedraggled and I barely noticed her. She looked how I felt. Her hair was wet from the drizzle, she had far too many sainsbury's shopping bags and her handbag was dragging along the ground. I saw her stumble near the first row of seats then make her way to the standing section where we were all trying to maintain our balance and ridicuous bubbles of personal space at the same time.

Suddenly a man who until now had looked completely sane and normal in his work suit and tie stood up in the first row of seats and shouted at her "Are you going to apologise for that?"

The whole of the bus averted their eyes, but turned down their ipods in mild interest.

"I said sorry, what did you expect your leg was in the aisle?" she replied back.

"You don't just step on someone's foot like that, show some respect," he shouted back at her. Shouting for no reason at all really, as the bus had fallen completely silent by now.

"You saw me struggling but you didn't move, I just tried to get past," she replied and shook her head to dismiss the ongoing conversation.

He was practically going purple in the face with anger by now and blurted out "Stupid fucking cow," and sat back down shaking his head.

The rest of the bus seems to be in a bit of mild shock and I must admit I too was shocked that a stranger would speak to someone else like that, let alone a man to a woman.

I looked around at the other men on the bus who were  swapping looks of outrage with each other when one man raised his voice, "That kind of language is uncalled for when talking to a lady, I think you should apologise for that," he said clearly and evenly. To which many on the bus retorted with 'Here, here".

The purple faced suit man stood up and turned around incredulus and said "The stupid cow deliberately stepped on my foot. No need for that kind of behaviour on the bus and I was sick of it," he responded, clearly not ashamed of his outburst and more than happy to go into bat for another argument.

To which the gentleman replied "Regardless, no one should be spoken to like that. Show some respect for all the women on the bus. Imagine if she was your sister or mother, you wouldn't want someone talking to her like that. I don't care if her heel ended up chopping off your wee little pinkie toe. It's uncalled for you should be ashamed of yourself,"

I swooned as did many other women on the bust. That's right, I swooned for  this ordinary, hum drum looking fellow, with a wedding band (I noticed this when he first spoke up) who hadn't struck me as overly memorable five minutes earlier. Chivalry is sexy, boys please note.

The angry man went to pipe up again and the girl interupted and said this particular passenger does this everytime she gets on, if its not her, its someone else who has pissed him off and he has a go at them.

The angry man was starting to rant now and have a go at The Gentleman saying "I fucking deserve to be left alone on my home from a hard working day and not have to put up with rude bitches on the bus.." and he was going further when another bloke piped up and said:
"All those who think this man shoud shut his mouth or get kicked off the bus raise their hand now,"

And wouldn't you know it, the whole bus put up their arms including the bus driver who tapped on his microphone and said "For those of you who can't see I've got my arm up too, so you, mister trouble maker big mouth you can shut it and let us all get home in peace or get off"

The bus broke out into a random applause and the purple angry man sat back down grumbling and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the journey. What added icing to the cake was every person who went past him on the waiy out said "Excuse me, Excuse me"and made a big deal of being overly polite when they went past angry purple faced man. One woman went past and said to him "Now you have a lovely evening now, smiling is better for you then frowning," and it made the rest of the passengers have a bit of a giggle.

 By the time I got off the bus, The Gentleman had well and truly departed and when he did, he did so to a round of applause from the rest of the remaining passengers.

All in all a heart warming  brush with chivalry and it has left me wondering if there are other gentlemen out there in London, I know I've had many account with many masquerading as one and if any abide by a universal code of conduct, such as this one (Gentleman's code of conduct).

And most importantly,  does  Mr Darcy ride the C11 bus?


jh