I’m having lunch with my dear friend A, with whom I go back years. We haven’t seen each other for a little while and so this is part of a catch up before we go on to meet mutual friends later.
“So how’s the book coming along – am I in it?” she asks with an ‘I’d better not be’ look on her face. I smile a half smile. “It’s still in the planning stages at the moment. There maybe a version of you in it, or someone loosely based on you anyway.” “Hmmm...” she says with her eyes narrowed. “So what did you think of the latest blogs?” I ask.
“Honestly?” She asks “Of course” I say. ‘Ah - she didn’t like them’ I think.”They were cool, and funny dating blogs. I agree with G2 that you’re too nice, but I think the blogs missed the reason why you are too nice.” At this point, my phone rings. It’s a female friend who has recently split from her boyfriend and is a bit down and wants to talk. “Hi.. yes, ok, listen can I call you back, I’m with a friend right now”.
“Who was that?” she asks. “Oh that was just C. She split up with some accountant a couple of weeks back and is a bit down.” She looks at me knowingly and shakes her head. “That’s what was missing from your blog and is the reason that you’re too nice.” “What?” I say defensively. She continues “When was the last time C phoned you to see how you are, or to say let’s have a catch up?” I want to say two weeks ago, or was it four... “Er..” “And what about the SA – when did she last call you?” I know the answer to this one “A couple of months ago. She wanted to say hi after...” “..after some guy broke her heart wasn’t it? And have you heard from her since you fluffed her little ego?” “Well er..” “And when was the last time that your mate P ever put himself out for you?” I’m feeling slightly under attack. However, as she continues, it starts to dawn on me that she might just have a point.
She explains “When I first moved into London, the people I hung out with then weren’t the same people I spend my time with now. Over the last nine or so years, I’ve kind of weeded my social garden and the friends I spend time with are the ones who have earned the right to be in my life – that includes you by the way” she says, pointing a spoon in my direction after stirring her tea. I smile at the corner of my mouth as I sip my coffee. She takes one of my hands in hers as she looks at me in earnest “You’re a lovely wonderful guy honey, but you have too many people in your life who are undeserving of your time.” I concede to her that she may have a point. “Don’t get me wrong” she says “I’m not saying ditch them, not entirely anyway, but just be more aware of who you invest your time in. That’s all I’m saying”
She gets up to go to the ladies, leaving me to contemplate what she has said. A part of me wants to protest and tell her that she’s wrong – that she doesn’t know some of the people in my life quite like I do. But I have to be honest with myself and as I sip my coffee and gaze out of the window at nothing, I know she is right.
I take my phone out and scroll down the contacts until I reach someone who has sprung to mind. I look at the contact details as I reflect on the friendship and contemplate the one sided nature that it has become. My thumb hovers over the delete icon. ‘Sod it’ I think as I hit ‘Delete Contact’. My phone isn’t happy with this decision however. ‘Are You Sure You Want To Delete Contact?’ ‘Hmm.. am I sure?’ I gaze out of the window and ponder. ‘Yes, sod it – time to look out for one’s self a bit more’ I confirm the decision and the phone advises ‘Contact Deleted’.
At that moment, A walks back from the ladies “What are you doing?” she asks as I put my phone away. I pick up my coffee and look at her resignedly “Gardening”.
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Friday, 11 November 2011
My Nice Guy - Part 3
“Fucking hell, why don’t you listen to me!!??” “What? I was hungry and needed to eat” I say. “No” says G2, “you liked her too much. You were over eager. She may have liked you at the start, but you did and said everything to ensure that she didn’t like you by the end!!”
She’s right of course, and I don’t really have much of a come back to that one. I should have left when I originally planned to. “NEVER change your plans because of a date. YOU are more important!!” she says. “Yes okay, I know you’re right” I say, and it’s a lesson to take on board for date number 4 who I am meeting for coffee at midday.
I arrange to meet her at the same place I met the turnip girl two days earlier on date one and for once I am on time and I don’t even walk around the block. She phones me because she can’t find the place and so I ask her to describe where she is and I go and meet her halfway. And then I see her, and I’m slightly disappointed, and reflect that some people are obviously more photogenic that others. She has hunched shoulders and walks with a stoop in a way that makes her look fifteen years older than she actually is.
We get inside and order coffee and she talks about her life and how she’s only recently moved to London from the Midlands. And then she talks about her job and she talks about where she lives and then she talks about her job again. And after twenty minutes of this I reflect on how she hasn’t asked me a single question about myself.
I am due to visit family later today in Hertfordshire and so I know I have to escape after two hours max. We have another drink and talk some more. “So shall we grab something to eat” she says. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I have to be somewhere this afternoon.” I tell her. “What? You said let’s meet for brunch. That’s why I haven’t eaten today!” “Er, no I didn’t, I said let’s meet for coffee” I assure her. “No, you said brunch. If I had known you only meant coffee for what (looks at watch) only two hours then I wouldn’t have bothered! Now what am I going to do with the rest of the afternoon!?” Oh god, she’s crazy! Now, there is a slim possibility that I may have said brunch, although there’s no way that I’m going to admit it now. We say goodbye outside the bar and walk in different directions. 'Jesus, what a waste of time' I muse. Four dates and all I have to show for it is a slightly deflated ego.
I’m under strict instructions not to be late to Hertfordshire as dinner is being served promptly at 5pm. It should take me about an hour to get there and so I leave my place at 4pm and get to my car to find that the tyres are low on air and the engine is running on fumes. I head to the petrol station and fill the tank before heading in to get a token for the airline. Time is short and I really need to get moving if I am going to be on time. I am in the queue to be served, when a girl walks in and asks “Does anyone know how to use the airline?” My mind is on the time as one of the guys behind the counter goes out to help. I pay for my petrol and go out and wait for the girl to finish with her tyre.
I lean by my car and check the time as I wonder what’s going on. They seem to be taking ages and I have only 50 minutes to drive a one hour journey. I walk over to see what they’re up to and find the shop assistant looking helpless and the girl looking confused. “Here, let me try” I say as I put the airline against the valve on her tyre. She clearly has a puncture as I can hear the air coming out just as quickly as is goes in. “You need to change the wheel” I say. I want to offer to help, but I really don’t have time. It’s at this point where I look at her properly. She’s about 24 and is quite gorgeous with big brown eyes and long wavy dark hair that cascades down over her shoulders. She’s wearing a fitted black sweater over tight jeans and black knee length boots.
I help her get the wheel out of the back of her car. “I’d change it for you but I’m running stupidly late as it is.” “That’s ok” she says. She’s very cute though. ‘I wonder...’ “Do know anyone who can help you change it – a boyfriend or husband?” “No” she says, looking a little lost. ‘Cool, she’s single’ She walks off to make a phone call and I back my car in behind hers and fill my tyres ready for the drive to Hertfordshire. I now have 45 minutes and I might just be able to make it if I drive fast.
I make a fake telephone call to bide time until she walks back over to the car. “You ok?” I say as I finish the call. “I’ve been trying to think of anyone I know locally who might be able to help.” “Aw thanks” she says “but my brother’s going to come and help me, I hope he can sort it.” “Cool” I say as I look at her. ‘Now, say something’ “How about you give me your number and you can let me know how you get on” I say confidently. She looks at me and I hold her stare. “Ok” she says with a grin. I hand her my phone and she types in the number. “Drop me a missed call” she says, which I do before heading on my way - my ego newly restored.
“So let me get this right” says G2 when I tell her the next day, “You got a gorgeous girl with a puncture to give you her number and you left her there without changing her wheel?” “Pretty much” I say. She shakes her head, and looks at me with a half smile “You’re a bad bad man – but still a nice guy.”
She’s right of course, and I don’t really have much of a come back to that one. I should have left when I originally planned to. “NEVER change your plans because of a date. YOU are more important!!” she says. “Yes okay, I know you’re right” I say, and it’s a lesson to take on board for date number 4 who I am meeting for coffee at midday.
I arrange to meet her at the same place I met the turnip girl two days earlier on date one and for once I am on time and I don’t even walk around the block. She phones me because she can’t find the place and so I ask her to describe where she is and I go and meet her halfway. And then I see her, and I’m slightly disappointed, and reflect that some people are obviously more photogenic that others. She has hunched shoulders and walks with a stoop in a way that makes her look fifteen years older than she actually is.
We get inside and order coffee and she talks about her life and how she’s only recently moved to London from the Midlands. And then she talks about her job and she talks about where she lives and then she talks about her job again. And after twenty minutes of this I reflect on how she hasn’t asked me a single question about myself.
I am due to visit family later today in Hertfordshire and so I know I have to escape after two hours max. We have another drink and talk some more. “So shall we grab something to eat” she says. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I have to be somewhere this afternoon.” I tell her. “What? You said let’s meet for brunch. That’s why I haven’t eaten today!” “Er, no I didn’t, I said let’s meet for coffee” I assure her. “No, you said brunch. If I had known you only meant coffee for what (looks at watch) only two hours then I wouldn’t have bothered! Now what am I going to do with the rest of the afternoon!?” Oh god, she’s crazy! Now, there is a slim possibility that I may have said brunch, although there’s no way that I’m going to admit it now. We say goodbye outside the bar and walk in different directions. 'Jesus, what a waste of time' I muse. Four dates and all I have to show for it is a slightly deflated ego.
I’m under strict instructions not to be late to Hertfordshire as dinner is being served promptly at 5pm. It should take me about an hour to get there and so I leave my place at 4pm and get to my car to find that the tyres are low on air and the engine is running on fumes. I head to the petrol station and fill the tank before heading in to get a token for the airline. Time is short and I really need to get moving if I am going to be on time. I am in the queue to be served, when a girl walks in and asks “Does anyone know how to use the airline?” My mind is on the time as one of the guys behind the counter goes out to help. I pay for my petrol and go out and wait for the girl to finish with her tyre.
I lean by my car and check the time as I wonder what’s going on. They seem to be taking ages and I have only 50 minutes to drive a one hour journey. I walk over to see what they’re up to and find the shop assistant looking helpless and the girl looking confused. “Here, let me try” I say as I put the airline against the valve on her tyre. She clearly has a puncture as I can hear the air coming out just as quickly as is goes in. “You need to change the wheel” I say. I want to offer to help, but I really don’t have time. It’s at this point where I look at her properly. She’s about 24 and is quite gorgeous with big brown eyes and long wavy dark hair that cascades down over her shoulders. She’s wearing a fitted black sweater over tight jeans and black knee length boots.
I help her get the wheel out of the back of her car. “I’d change it for you but I’m running stupidly late as it is.” “That’s ok” she says. She’s very cute though. ‘I wonder...’ “Do know anyone who can help you change it – a boyfriend or husband?” “No” she says, looking a little lost. ‘Cool, she’s single’ She walks off to make a phone call and I back my car in behind hers and fill my tyres ready for the drive to Hertfordshire. I now have 45 minutes and I might just be able to make it if I drive fast.
I make a fake telephone call to bide time until she walks back over to the car. “You ok?” I say as I finish the call. “I’ve been trying to think of anyone I know locally who might be able to help.” “Aw thanks” she says “but my brother’s going to come and help me, I hope he can sort it.” “Cool” I say as I look at her. ‘Now, say something’ “How about you give me your number and you can let me know how you get on” I say confidently. She looks at me and I hold her stare. “Ok” she says with a grin. I hand her my phone and she types in the number. “Drop me a missed call” she says, which I do before heading on my way - my ego newly restored.
“So let me get this right” says G2 when I tell her the next day, “You got a gorgeous girl with a puncture to give you her number and you left her there without changing her wheel?” “Pretty much” I say. She shakes her head, and looks at me with a half smile “You’re a bad bad man – but still a nice guy.”
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
Mr Nice Guy - Part 2
I arrive at the train station but have a bit of a walk to get to the cafe bar where we are meeting. It is a beautiful day, as I text her to say that I’m running a few minutes late. My phone beeps as I hurriedly walk.
"No worries, I’m enjoying the sunshine on the green opposite the cafe. See you soon"
I relax and slow up a bit. It’s sunny and warm and probably the last weekend of the year when it will be so, and I don’t want to be sweating when I arrive.
Finally I arrive at the green. I know what she looks like, but look in all directions at once to try and ensure that I haven’t missed her. I look down at one of the benches and see petite pretty brunette wearing sunglasses and reading a book - it’s her. She looks up at me with a smile “Hello”. Immediately I am filled with a greater expectation than I did with the turnip girl with the Ronnie Corbett specs from the night before.
We walk to the cafe and sit outside, ordering coffees and croissants. She is sweet and interesting and quite fun, if a little reserved, which is only natural, considering we are relative strangers. We talk about where she’s from and what she does and she asks questions about me. We discuss food and note that we both get bad food envy and we could both be better cooks than we are.
After a couple of hours I steal a glance at my watch. It’s 3 pm and I’m seeing date number three in two hours. She sees me check the time. “Oh, do you have to be somewhere?” she asks. “No, it’s ok. I’m just meeting a mate for a coffee a bit later.” We talk some more, and after another fifteen minutes or so she checks her watch. “I hate to do this, but I wasn’t checking the time and I’m meeting a friend.” Damn it, why didn’t I say I had to leave fifteen minutes ago!? “That’s cool, I’ve got to meet my friend anyway.” She smiles, “Thanks” and we leave and walk together in the same direction, talking more as we do. I kiss her on both cheeks at the station and tell her it’s been fun and that I’ll call her, and I mean it too.
I have an hour and a half before I have to meet the next girl and I need to head home and change. I am going out after the date and so I need to be dressed accordingly. As per usual, I can’t find any of the things that I want to wear and end up ironing two different shirts that I’m having trouble choosing between. It’s ok though because I’ve still got time. My phone beeps:
“Hey, I am early. Are you able to meet sooner?”
Typical - I have enough trouble just being on time, without girls turning up early. Or is this a hoop that some use to test guys and see if we’ll jump through? I’m seeing other friends later and I want to get ready and get to her feeling chilled and relaxed. If she’s early, then she’s early and she’ll just have to wait. I text her back:
“I’m just saying goodbye to a friend at the moment. See you at 5”
I arrive at the bar on time and see her drinking a beer and looking out of the window. She sees me and smiles a big smile. And she’s good looking – much prettier than in her pictures. And she’s fun too and I enjoy the time with her as we cover a range of subjects. I have only intended to stay a couple of hours because I have somewhere else to go and also because in the back of my mind I hadn’t expected a lot from this date. But now I am on it, I find that I am quite enjoying it. So much so, that when it gets to the end of the two hours that I had originally envisaged, I want to carry on. I haven’t eaten since the croissant earlier in the day and I am hungry. I will need to eat before I go onto the where I am going to later. I should just leave now and grab something to eat en route. That would be sensible, that’s what G2 would suggest. But maybe if I ate something at the Cafe Rouge next door and took this girl with me, then maybe, seeing as I like her, I could get to know her better. And this is what we do.
The dinner is pleasant and the conversation fun – up to a point. We’ve been out for twice as long as I’d envisaged. The gap between conversations gets longer and the wine ensures that subject matter is more open that it probably should be on a first date. I check my watch and realise that I am going to be late. I pay the bill and we leave. I’m about to say goodbye, when she smiles and says “Would you like to walk me across the bridge?” “Of course” I say with a smile – well I can’t say “No” can I.
Her hands are in her pockets as we walk and talk. ‘Is she interested?’ I wonder. I mean she’s asked if I’d like to walk her across the bridge, which is surely an indicator of interest. Then again though, her hands are firmly in her pockets and if she was interested, then she’d take my arm – wouldn’t she?
We pause at the end of the bridge and engage in chit chat. We are talking closely and I’m wondering if I should kiss her. ‘Should I or shouldn’t I?’ I umm and ahh in my mind as we talk. “I suppose, I’d better get going” I say before moving closer kiss her. My lips more are less than an inch from hers as she turns her face and offers me her cheek. The movement feels like the physical version of the “let’s just be friends conversation”. “Nice to meet you” she says. “Likewise” I say, frustrated at myself a number of reasons. I should have left on a high, after drinks. Now it feels like it has gone flat and I am late to meet friends.
Onwards and upwards though. There is something to be taken from this as I go into date number four tomorrow. Right now though, it’s 9.30pm on a Saturday night – I have a party to get to!!
"No worries, I’m enjoying the sunshine on the green opposite the cafe. See you soon"
I relax and slow up a bit. It’s sunny and warm and probably the last weekend of the year when it will be so, and I don’t want to be sweating when I arrive.
Finally I arrive at the green. I know what she looks like, but look in all directions at once to try and ensure that I haven’t missed her. I look down at one of the benches and see petite pretty brunette wearing sunglasses and reading a book - it’s her. She looks up at me with a smile “Hello”. Immediately I am filled with a greater expectation than I did with the turnip girl with the Ronnie Corbett specs from the night before.
We walk to the cafe and sit outside, ordering coffees and croissants. She is sweet and interesting and quite fun, if a little reserved, which is only natural, considering we are relative strangers. We talk about where she’s from and what she does and she asks questions about me. We discuss food and note that we both get bad food envy and we could both be better cooks than we are.
After a couple of hours I steal a glance at my watch. It’s 3 pm and I’m seeing date number three in two hours. She sees me check the time. “Oh, do you have to be somewhere?” she asks. “No, it’s ok. I’m just meeting a mate for a coffee a bit later.” We talk some more, and after another fifteen minutes or so she checks her watch. “I hate to do this, but I wasn’t checking the time and I’m meeting a friend.” Damn it, why didn’t I say I had to leave fifteen minutes ago!? “That’s cool, I’ve got to meet my friend anyway.” She smiles, “Thanks” and we leave and walk together in the same direction, talking more as we do. I kiss her on both cheeks at the station and tell her it’s been fun and that I’ll call her, and I mean it too.
I have an hour and a half before I have to meet the next girl and I need to head home and change. I am going out after the date and so I need to be dressed accordingly. As per usual, I can’t find any of the things that I want to wear and end up ironing two different shirts that I’m having trouble choosing between. It’s ok though because I’ve still got time. My phone beeps:
“Hey, I am early. Are you able to meet sooner?”
Typical - I have enough trouble just being on time, without girls turning up early. Or is this a hoop that some use to test guys and see if we’ll jump through? I’m seeing other friends later and I want to get ready and get to her feeling chilled and relaxed. If she’s early, then she’s early and she’ll just have to wait. I text her back:
“I’m just saying goodbye to a friend at the moment. See you at 5”
I arrive at the bar on time and see her drinking a beer and looking out of the window. She sees me and smiles a big smile. And she’s good looking – much prettier than in her pictures. And she’s fun too and I enjoy the time with her as we cover a range of subjects. I have only intended to stay a couple of hours because I have somewhere else to go and also because in the back of my mind I hadn’t expected a lot from this date. But now I am on it, I find that I am quite enjoying it. So much so, that when it gets to the end of the two hours that I had originally envisaged, I want to carry on. I haven’t eaten since the croissant earlier in the day and I am hungry. I will need to eat before I go onto the where I am going to later. I should just leave now and grab something to eat en route. That would be sensible, that’s what G2 would suggest. But maybe if I ate something at the Cafe Rouge next door and took this girl with me, then maybe, seeing as I like her, I could get to know her better. And this is what we do.
The dinner is pleasant and the conversation fun – up to a point. We’ve been out for twice as long as I’d envisaged. The gap between conversations gets longer and the wine ensures that subject matter is more open that it probably should be on a first date. I check my watch and realise that I am going to be late. I pay the bill and we leave. I’m about to say goodbye, when she smiles and says “Would you like to walk me across the bridge?” “Of course” I say with a smile – well I can’t say “No” can I.
Her hands are in her pockets as we walk and talk. ‘Is she interested?’ I wonder. I mean she’s asked if I’d like to walk her across the bridge, which is surely an indicator of interest. Then again though, her hands are firmly in her pockets and if she was interested, then she’d take my arm – wouldn’t she?
We pause at the end of the bridge and engage in chit chat. We are talking closely and I’m wondering if I should kiss her. ‘Should I or shouldn’t I?’ I umm and ahh in my mind as we talk. “I suppose, I’d better get going” I say before moving closer kiss her. My lips more are less than an inch from hers as she turns her face and offers me her cheek. The movement feels like the physical version of the “let’s just be friends conversation”. “Nice to meet you” she says. “Likewise” I say, frustrated at myself a number of reasons. I should have left on a high, after drinks. Now it feels like it has gone flat and I am late to meet friends.
Onwards and upwards though. There is something to be taken from this as I go into date number four tomorrow. Right now though, it’s 9.30pm on a Saturday night – I have a party to get to!!
Thursday, 3 November 2011
Mr Nice Guy - Part 1
“I feel bad for you. You’re such a lovely guy and yet you don’t seem to get the girls you want. You’re too nice, that’s your problem. You’re too concerned about not being a dick, that you over compensate.” I wasn’t sure how to take this verbal spanking from G2. She’s talking after reading the 3 part blog I wrote a few months ago, and she has a point. “You should have been out of her place at the crack of dawn!” I couldn’t disagree. I liked the girl though, and in my enthusiasm, I had naively assumed that we’d lie in bed together before going for breakfast somewhere.
That was then though and this is now. On a whim, and the suggestion of a friend, I have signed up to an online dating site and over the next couple of days I have dates lined up with four girls.
It’s a Friday night and for once I arrive on time at the venue for date one. So used are people to my lateness, that G2 has even texted me to ensure that I am punctual. My natural instincts tell me to walk around the block, which I do, just in time to receive a text from the girl saying that she is running late.
I order a Vodka and Tonic at the bar and wait, and as I wait, I realise that I can’t remember what she looks like. A tall brunette walks through the door. ‘Close, but I think I’d remember if it was that one.’ A few minutes later though and I get a tap on the shoulder. “Hiii...” she says as I turn around and I recognise her from her pictures, although she seems less attractive and shorter than I’d imagined. She’s also wearing thick rimmed glasses. “Sorry about the glasses”, she says “I’ve got an eye infection and I’m not allowed to wear my lenses”. “That’s alright,” I smile “they look quite cute”. The glasses do nothing for her and she knows it, and so if I can make her feel a bit better about them and be a bit charming in the process then so much the better. She smiles “Aww thanks”.
“Have you been waiting long?” she asks. ‘Yes, twenty fucking minutes’ “Only about 10 minutes” I say. “Would you like a drink? I ask with my glass in hand. “Just a diet coke thanks.” There is an awkward silence as I wait to get served. Eventually I hand her the diet coke. She asks me what I do and where I’m from and then goes into a fifteen minute monologue about what she does and how she doesn’t enjoy her job. We order more drinks, which we finish after more conversation, just as she asks “Shall we get something to eat?” I already know that this girl isn’t what I was hoping for. She speaks about herself in a flat monotone, without asking questions and I can’t get excited about her or see it going anywhere. I should say no. I should say I have somewhere to be or that it’s been a long day and I’m tired. But it’s Friday night and I don’t have plans and the thought of going home to watch crap television doesn’t fill me with joy. But for some reason, it feels like it would be rude to bale out at 9.30pm on a Friday night. Plus I haven’t eaten much, in the expectation that this might go well and we’d go somewhere for something to eat. The fact that she’s dull as a turnip has done nothing to take away my hunger pangs. “Ok sure” I say.
We pop to a local Wagamama after she has said that she doesn’t want to spend much money. “So what do you reckon to this internet dating lark then?” she says as she munches on some noodles. “It’s ok, I’m quite new to it actually” I say before ordering another drink. “I’ve got another one tomorrow” she says. ‘Yeah – well I’ve got two!’ “Good for you” I say. We finally finish and head towards Hungerford Bridge where we are to part. “Well, it’s been nice to meet you” she says “Likewise, good luck on your date tomorrow.” I say genuinely before heading to the tube so I can dissect the evening on the way home.
The next morning I get a call from G2 to ask how it went, and so I tell her. “So she was dull and you didn’t like her and yet you still went out for dinner?” she says. “What is wrong with you??” “Well I didn’t have any other Friday night plans and I was hungry” I protest. “No, that’s an excuse. What did I say about you being too nice? This was a first date and so you should have been in and out of there – two hours max!” “Okay okay” I say with an air of resignation. “So when’s your next one?” she asks. “In about...” I look at my watch “Shit! 45 minutes I’m late...”
That was then though and this is now. On a whim, and the suggestion of a friend, I have signed up to an online dating site and over the next couple of days I have dates lined up with four girls.
It’s a Friday night and for once I arrive on time at the venue for date one. So used are people to my lateness, that G2 has even texted me to ensure that I am punctual. My natural instincts tell me to walk around the block, which I do, just in time to receive a text from the girl saying that she is running late.
I order a Vodka and Tonic at the bar and wait, and as I wait, I realise that I can’t remember what she looks like. A tall brunette walks through the door. ‘Close, but I think I’d remember if it was that one.’ A few minutes later though and I get a tap on the shoulder. “Hiii...” she says as I turn around and I recognise her from her pictures, although she seems less attractive and shorter than I’d imagined. She’s also wearing thick rimmed glasses. “Sorry about the glasses”, she says “I’ve got an eye infection and I’m not allowed to wear my lenses”. “That’s alright,” I smile “they look quite cute”. The glasses do nothing for her and she knows it, and so if I can make her feel a bit better about them and be a bit charming in the process then so much the better. She smiles “Aww thanks”.
“Have you been waiting long?” she asks. ‘Yes, twenty fucking minutes’ “Only about 10 minutes” I say. “Would you like a drink? I ask with my glass in hand. “Just a diet coke thanks.” There is an awkward silence as I wait to get served. Eventually I hand her the diet coke. She asks me what I do and where I’m from and then goes into a fifteen minute monologue about what she does and how she doesn’t enjoy her job. We order more drinks, which we finish after more conversation, just as she asks “Shall we get something to eat?” I already know that this girl isn’t what I was hoping for. She speaks about herself in a flat monotone, without asking questions and I can’t get excited about her or see it going anywhere. I should say no. I should say I have somewhere to be or that it’s been a long day and I’m tired. But it’s Friday night and I don’t have plans and the thought of going home to watch crap television doesn’t fill me with joy. But for some reason, it feels like it would be rude to bale out at 9.30pm on a Friday night. Plus I haven’t eaten much, in the expectation that this might go well and we’d go somewhere for something to eat. The fact that she’s dull as a turnip has done nothing to take away my hunger pangs. “Ok sure” I say.
We pop to a local Wagamama after she has said that she doesn’t want to spend much money. “So what do you reckon to this internet dating lark then?” she says as she munches on some noodles. “It’s ok, I’m quite new to it actually” I say before ordering another drink. “I’ve got another one tomorrow” she says. ‘Yeah – well I’ve got two!’ “Good for you” I say. We finally finish and head towards Hungerford Bridge where we are to part. “Well, it’s been nice to meet you” she says “Likewise, good luck on your date tomorrow.” I say genuinely before heading to the tube so I can dissect the evening on the way home.
The next morning I get a call from G2 to ask how it went, and so I tell her. “So she was dull and you didn’t like her and yet you still went out for dinner?” she says. “What is wrong with you??” “Well I didn’t have any other Friday night plans and I was hungry” I protest. “No, that’s an excuse. What did I say about you being too nice? This was a first date and so you should have been in and out of there – two hours max!” “Okay okay” I say with an air of resignation. “So when’s your next one?” she asks. “In about...” I look at my watch “Shit! 45 minutes I’m late...”
Monday, 31 October 2011
Last Day At Work
I was going to write about something else today. Someone said to me yesterday that they were looking forward to my next blog and to hear lots about what has been going on in my life – such is the fact that I haven’t blogged for ages. She’s entirely right of course, and I have lots to bring you all up to speed on. For now though, I want to talk to you about my day today, which happens to be my last day at work.
I started working at this place almost exactly a year ago. At that time, I had been out of work for a while, and so I was elated to get this position. Today though, I feel as if a weight is being lifted. I have attended project meetings this morning where people have spoken about this problem or that problem. A delay here, an issue there, and it feels so good to know that after today, it will be something that someone else will have to think about.
Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed working here and to an extent and I have gained some new experiences and learned new skill sets. I have met some terrific people and formed relationships that will go beyond my time here. But it has also feels like the last year has been a desperately long one. I haven’t had a break in over a year or taken any time off and I have woken at 6am every morning more or less and experienced a daily 3 hour commute, which has also had a knock on effect on my social life.
“I bet you’ll glad to see the end of the commute eh?” says a colleague. But the truth is that I don’t think I will. I’ve had three hours a day when I can just concentrate on the pleasure of reading a book. I have probably read more books in the last year than I have in the previous five. I have read biographies, crime thrillers, political thrillers, classics, chick lit, comic novels, self help books and more... I have met dates on the daily commute, I have bumped into friends that I haven’t seen for years, I have got blog stories and I even met John Cleese.
So whilst it’s been an interesting time, it’s going to feel good to have a little time off. Don’t get me wrong, I will not be spending my time sitting around. Life is about to get busy. I have a birthday party to organise, a CV to revise, jobs to apply for, blogs to write, a novel to start, a holiday to book and a flat that could really do with a vacuum.
Life’s interesting and right now I’m feeling pretty good. So let’s see what the next adventure has in store...
I started working at this place almost exactly a year ago. At that time, I had been out of work for a while, and so I was elated to get this position. Today though, I feel as if a weight is being lifted. I have attended project meetings this morning where people have spoken about this problem or that problem. A delay here, an issue there, and it feels so good to know that after today, it will be something that someone else will have to think about.
Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed working here and to an extent and I have gained some new experiences and learned new skill sets. I have met some terrific people and formed relationships that will go beyond my time here. But it has also feels like the last year has been a desperately long one. I haven’t had a break in over a year or taken any time off and I have woken at 6am every morning more or less and experienced a daily 3 hour commute, which has also had a knock on effect on my social life.
“I bet you’ll glad to see the end of the commute eh?” says a colleague. But the truth is that I don’t think I will. I’ve had three hours a day when I can just concentrate on the pleasure of reading a book. I have probably read more books in the last year than I have in the previous five. I have read biographies, crime thrillers, political thrillers, classics, chick lit, comic novels, self help books and more... I have met dates on the daily commute, I have bumped into friends that I haven’t seen for years, I have got blog stories and I even met John Cleese.
So whilst it’s been an interesting time, it’s going to feel good to have a little time off. Don’t get me wrong, I will not be spending my time sitting around. Life is about to get busy. I have a birthday party to organise, a CV to revise, jobs to apply for, blogs to write, a novel to start, a holiday to book and a flat that could really do with a vacuum.
Life’s interesting and right now I’m feeling pretty good. So let’s see what the next adventure has in store...
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Breaking Up
It’s a cool wet afternoon in early September as we wander past the Oxo Tower on London’s South Bank. We walk arm in arm and are dressed for a day in late October, such has been the seemingly permanent miserable nature of English summer. “Well..?” I ask. She takes a deep breath and looks at me, “You’re crazy and intense – it’s too much. I don’t want to see you anymore!” I frown as I look at her. “Well that’s not very nice is it” I say as I scratch my chin. “Well how else am I supposed to get through to him?” says G.
I haven’t heard a lot about this guy she’s seeing, and so I’m curious. “Well what’s he like - is he a dick?” I ask. “No, not really. He’s a nice guy” she says. “Okay..” I say, pondering as I take in the information. “What does he look like – is he ugly?” “Nooo” she says defensively, before smiling “In fact he’s got sort of a Bruce Willis thing going on.” “Really? Is he bald?” I ask. “No, he’s not bald” she snaps, “he’s just got a shaved head.” “Oh, you mean like Matt Lucas?” She looks at me with her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “So how's your love life?” She asks. “Uh uh, don’t change the subject” I say, kicking a stray conker on the floor. “Do kids still play conkers?” asks G as she watches the conker leave my shoe. “No idea” I say “30 years ago I’d have had that one and taken it home. These days I think the little bastards either spend all day masturbating or playing with their X-boxes.” “Or masturbating WHILST playing with their X-boxes” G counters. We laugh and bump shoulders.
“So, what about this guy?” I say. “Ohh I don’t knowww...” she says, in a way that reminds of my nieces, when I ask them what they’re going to do with their lives. “Well, if he’s a nice guy, then be nice to him and let him down gently. There’s no point upsetting people needlessly. And don’t do what I did with ‘tits on a stick’.” She looks at me, puzzled. “What happened with her again?”
Tits on a stick, as the name suggests, was a girl with huge breasts and a tiny waist, who I went on a number of dates with a few years ago. She was nice and a sweet girl. She was opinionated, which I like, although her opinions tended to be a bit sanctimonious and when we met up, you kind of got the feeling that she had swallowed that days Guardian. Ultimately though, my heart wasn’t in it. I liked her, but I didn’t like her enough to want to go out with her and if I carried on seeing her, then sooner or later she would get on my nerves. As I walked her to the tube station after our last date together, I knew that it was a journey I was making with her for the last time. I looked at my shoes as we walked the last 20 or so metres as I wondered what I was going to say. So when she hung her arms around my neck and said “Ok, see you in a few days”, all I could think was ‘You won’t you know.’ In the end I took the coward’s way out – I didn’t reply to her emails or texts.
“You bastard!” says G. “I know!” I protest. Her eyes are narrowed as she spits out the words “I hope you realise that you probably made her feel like shit!?” “Yes, I know, which is why I’m telling you that if this bloke of yours is a nice guy, then to go easy on him.” I take her arm again and we carry on walking along the river, past the National Theatre. “Don’t get me wrong, I am ashamed of what I did and I wouldn’t do it again.” “Hmmm...” she says, not quite believing me. “Ok, do you know B?” I ask. “Oh I think I’ve met her a couple of times” she says, before raising her eye brows and indicating to me and an imaginary person with her index finger “you mean you and her..?” I nod “Yup” Before she prods me “Well what happened?”
I start to tell her the history. That I went on a few dates with B but that it wasn’t a good time for me. I’ve no idea why really, looking back she was great. The point, was that I didn’t want to go on seeing her just for the sake of it. She was a nice girl and so I didn’t want to hurt her, although inevitably she was bound to feel some hurt. I took her out for a drink to talk and I explained, or tried to explain, that I didn’t think it was the right time for me to be in a new relationship, and that because of that, I felt my heart just wasn’t in it. I liked her though and told her that I would like to remain friends. Yes, I know that might sound like a typical “it’s not you, it’s me” speech, but I genuinely meant every word. She had no idea it was coming as she looked at me and sighed a big sigh. “Ohh... ok.. (sigh) well.. if that’s how you feel...(sigh) I’d better go..” She picked up her coat and bag, kissed me on the cheek and walked out the pub door. As I watched her leave, I knew that I had done the right thing. However, I also felt as if I had just shot Bambi’s mother in the face and had Bambi standing in front of me, pleading, with tears in his eyes, as to how I could be so heartless.
“But she’s a good mate of yours isn’t she?” asks G quizzically. “Yup – but that’s what I’m saying. If this guy’s a nice bloke, and you’re not too harsh in how you finish it, then you might end up with a good mate.”
The clouds open as we reach the second hand book market under Waterloo Bridge. “Come on” she says, “It’s my round and I can’t think on an empty stomach.” We walk into a bar opposite and she fumbles with her bag. I put my hand on her arm “I’ll get this, you can buy the next one” I say. She smiles and turns to pop to the ladies. She’s half way there before she turns back to me. “Oh and by the way, I can be very nice. In fact that’s why you like me so much” she says and sticks her tongue out before giggling and heading to the toilets. I smile and watch her go before noticing her perfect bottom in her tight low slung jeans as she skips away. ‘Of course, that’s exactly the reason...’
I haven’t heard a lot about this guy she’s seeing, and so I’m curious. “Well what’s he like - is he a dick?” I ask. “No, not really. He’s a nice guy” she says. “Okay..” I say, pondering as I take in the information. “What does he look like – is he ugly?” “Nooo” she says defensively, before smiling “In fact he’s got sort of a Bruce Willis thing going on.” “Really? Is he bald?” I ask. “No, he’s not bald” she snaps, “he’s just got a shaved head.” “Oh, you mean like Matt Lucas?” She looks at me with her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “So how's your love life?” She asks. “Uh uh, don’t change the subject” I say, kicking a stray conker on the floor. “Do kids still play conkers?” asks G as she watches the conker leave my shoe. “No idea” I say “30 years ago I’d have had that one and taken it home. These days I think the little bastards either spend all day masturbating or playing with their X-boxes.” “Or masturbating WHILST playing with their X-boxes” G counters. We laugh and bump shoulders.
“So, what about this guy?” I say. “Ohh I don’t knowww...” she says, in a way that reminds of my nieces, when I ask them what they’re going to do with their lives. “Well, if he’s a nice guy, then be nice to him and let him down gently. There’s no point upsetting people needlessly. And don’t do what I did with ‘tits on a stick’.” She looks at me, puzzled. “What happened with her again?”
Tits on a stick, as the name suggests, was a girl with huge breasts and a tiny waist, who I went on a number of dates with a few years ago. She was nice and a sweet girl. She was opinionated, which I like, although her opinions tended to be a bit sanctimonious and when we met up, you kind of got the feeling that she had swallowed that days Guardian. Ultimately though, my heart wasn’t in it. I liked her, but I didn’t like her enough to want to go out with her and if I carried on seeing her, then sooner or later she would get on my nerves. As I walked her to the tube station after our last date together, I knew that it was a journey I was making with her for the last time. I looked at my shoes as we walked the last 20 or so metres as I wondered what I was going to say. So when she hung her arms around my neck and said “Ok, see you in a few days”, all I could think was ‘You won’t you know.’ In the end I took the coward’s way out – I didn’t reply to her emails or texts.
“You bastard!” says G. “I know!” I protest. Her eyes are narrowed as she spits out the words “I hope you realise that you probably made her feel like shit!?” “Yes, I know, which is why I’m telling you that if this bloke of yours is a nice guy, then to go easy on him.” I take her arm again and we carry on walking along the river, past the National Theatre. “Don’t get me wrong, I am ashamed of what I did and I wouldn’t do it again.” “Hmmm...” she says, not quite believing me. “Ok, do you know B?” I ask. “Oh I think I’ve met her a couple of times” she says, before raising her eye brows and indicating to me and an imaginary person with her index finger “you mean you and her..?” I nod “Yup” Before she prods me “Well what happened?”
I start to tell her the history. That I went on a few dates with B but that it wasn’t a good time for me. I’ve no idea why really, looking back she was great. The point, was that I didn’t want to go on seeing her just for the sake of it. She was a nice girl and so I didn’t want to hurt her, although inevitably she was bound to feel some hurt. I took her out for a drink to talk and I explained, or tried to explain, that I didn’t think it was the right time for me to be in a new relationship, and that because of that, I felt my heart just wasn’t in it. I liked her though and told her that I would like to remain friends. Yes, I know that might sound like a typical “it’s not you, it’s me” speech, but I genuinely meant every word. She had no idea it was coming as she looked at me and sighed a big sigh. “Ohh... ok.. (sigh) well.. if that’s how you feel...(sigh) I’d better go..” She picked up her coat and bag, kissed me on the cheek and walked out the pub door. As I watched her leave, I knew that I had done the right thing. However, I also felt as if I had just shot Bambi’s mother in the face and had Bambi standing in front of me, pleading, with tears in his eyes, as to how I could be so heartless.
“But she’s a good mate of yours isn’t she?” asks G quizzically. “Yup – but that’s what I’m saying. If this guy’s a nice bloke, and you’re not too harsh in how you finish it, then you might end up with a good mate.”
The clouds open as we reach the second hand book market under Waterloo Bridge. “Come on” she says, “It’s my round and I can’t think on an empty stomach.” We walk into a bar opposite and she fumbles with her bag. I put my hand on her arm “I’ll get this, you can buy the next one” I say. She smiles and turns to pop to the ladies. She’s half way there before she turns back to me. “Oh and by the way, I can be very nice. In fact that’s why you like me so much” she says and sticks her tongue out before giggling and heading to the toilets. I smile and watch her go before noticing her perfect bottom in her tight low slung jeans as she skips away. ‘Of course, that’s exactly the reason...’
Saturday, 3 September 2011
A Moment of Shyness
I’m at a Jazz concert with friends, eating dinner and drinking wine, within the crypt of an old church in the West End of London. The band itself is playing quite a funky mix of covers and quite a few members of the audience are dancing around their tables – some, more embarrassingly than others it has to be said. The demographic is such that we seem to be one of the most youthful tables at the venue – although this tends to lend itself to a more relaxed and friendly atmosphere.
Out of the corner of my eye, I have seen a girl dancing alone who seems to be having a great time. She looks like she might be Spanish or Portuguese. She is about 27 or 28, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. Whether she’s alone or not, I can only guess, as I scan the area to see who she might be with.
Someone fetches another bottle of wine and we dip into more conversation. I occasionally look over to steal glances at the girl as a friend talks to me. She hasn’t stopped dancing and looks for all the world like she’s having the time of her life. I turn back to my friend to listen to the rest of what he is saying, and realise that he has stopped talking and is staring at me. “What?” I say. “Go and talk to her” he says. “No, she’s obviously having a good time and is just into her dancing. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway” I say casually. It’s true, I have a mental block about what to say. This is ridiculous. How is it that I can arrange a date with a beautiful stranger at a set of traffic lights in the pouring rain and yet I’m too shy to say hello, in a relaxed and romantic setting such as this..? “Just fucking go and say hello” says my friend, supportively. He knows the truth though - that I have been struck by a crippling shyness and can’t see a way out of it.
An older woman looks at me, and motions for me to go over to her. She has been sitting to the right of where the girl is dancing and I wonder if they’re together as part of the same group.
I walk over to her and smile. “You young people, you waste too much time” she says, shaking her head and indicating over at the girl. “You’ve been looking at her all night – go and dance with her” I look at the dancing girl, and she looks at me and she smiles and then we are dancing together and it feels so easy, and then two minutes later I hear the lead singer of the band over the speakers “Ok, this is the last song of the night”. “Oh what!!?” I’m not sure if I’ve said it aloud or in my head. I look at the older woman. “I told you” she says.
The girl and I continue to dance until the music stops and I tell her my name and ask her where she’s from. She offers me her hand. “I’m Priscilla” she says “I’m from Brazil but I’ve only been here 3 days” It turns out that she’s in town for only one more day before going to Liverpool for a few days and then going on to the Czech Republic, before heading back to Brazil. “Are you here with friends?” I ask. “No, I’m travelling alone. I love it that way and I’m having such a wonderful time. Every day I’m thinking of 5 things to do and then I discover 5 more things. It’s a wonderful city” She is full of optimism and wide eyed enthusiasm, in a way which is so unbelievably attractive. A moments silence ensues as the place starts to empty “Well, I’d better go – I need to try and call home. It was lovely to meet you though” she says, as my friends walk over. “Bye then” I say, unable to think of a way to detain her, and I watch as she turns and walks off with a wave of her hand.
“There you go mate, do you feel better for talking to her?” “No” I say, “Oh fucking hell..” I dejectedly curse under my breath. I’m annoyed at myself for faffing around and not speaking to her earlier and I tell my friend as much on our way to the exit. As I get to the bottom of the stairs though, I see her again, picking up leaflets of things to do in London. “Hello again” I say. “Oh hello” she says with a smile. We climb the stairs to the exit together and she talks more in detail about her trip and how she enjoys travelling alone to see new places, as she gets to do a lot more things and meet a lot more people. My friends walk over to say goodbye to me, and she takes this as her cue to leave, for good this time. “Oh well, it was really lovely to meet you” she says. She hugs me goodbye and we kiss on both cheeks and I watch as she joins the crowds of tourists heading towards Trafalgar Square.
“Sorry mate, we didn’t mean to interrupt. We only came over to say see you later.” I sigh and let out a deep breath before wearing a manufactured smile. “Don’t worry about it mate, my fault.” I turn back and watch, feeling impotent to the moment, as she gradually gets crowded out by the tourists before finally disappearing from view. And already the self recrimination has set in, as I torture myself with the haunting memory of yet another road not taken.
Still, I guess there’s always next time...
Out of the corner of my eye, I have seen a girl dancing alone who seems to be having a great time. She looks like she might be Spanish or Portuguese. She is about 27 or 28, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. Whether she’s alone or not, I can only guess, as I scan the area to see who she might be with.
Someone fetches another bottle of wine and we dip into more conversation. I occasionally look over to steal glances at the girl as a friend talks to me. She hasn’t stopped dancing and looks for all the world like she’s having the time of her life. I turn back to my friend to listen to the rest of what he is saying, and realise that he has stopped talking and is staring at me. “What?” I say. “Go and talk to her” he says. “No, she’s obviously having a good time and is just into her dancing. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway” I say casually. It’s true, I have a mental block about what to say. This is ridiculous. How is it that I can arrange a date with a beautiful stranger at a set of traffic lights in the pouring rain and yet I’m too shy to say hello, in a relaxed and romantic setting such as this..? “Just fucking go and say hello” says my friend, supportively. He knows the truth though - that I have been struck by a crippling shyness and can’t see a way out of it.
An older woman looks at me, and motions for me to go over to her. She has been sitting to the right of where the girl is dancing and I wonder if they’re together as part of the same group.
I walk over to her and smile. “You young people, you waste too much time” she says, shaking her head and indicating over at the girl. “You’ve been looking at her all night – go and dance with her” I look at the dancing girl, and she looks at me and she smiles and then we are dancing together and it feels so easy, and then two minutes later I hear the lead singer of the band over the speakers “Ok, this is the last song of the night”. “Oh what!!?” I’m not sure if I’ve said it aloud or in my head. I look at the older woman. “I told you” she says.
The girl and I continue to dance until the music stops and I tell her my name and ask her where she’s from. She offers me her hand. “I’m Priscilla” she says “I’m from Brazil but I’ve only been here 3 days” It turns out that she’s in town for only one more day before going to Liverpool for a few days and then going on to the Czech Republic, before heading back to Brazil. “Are you here with friends?” I ask. “No, I’m travelling alone. I love it that way and I’m having such a wonderful time. Every day I’m thinking of 5 things to do and then I discover 5 more things. It’s a wonderful city” She is full of optimism and wide eyed enthusiasm, in a way which is so unbelievably attractive. A moments silence ensues as the place starts to empty “Well, I’d better go – I need to try and call home. It was lovely to meet you though” she says, as my friends walk over. “Bye then” I say, unable to think of a way to detain her, and I watch as she turns and walks off with a wave of her hand.
“There you go mate, do you feel better for talking to her?” “No” I say, “Oh fucking hell..” I dejectedly curse under my breath. I’m annoyed at myself for faffing around and not speaking to her earlier and I tell my friend as much on our way to the exit. As I get to the bottom of the stairs though, I see her again, picking up leaflets of things to do in London. “Hello again” I say. “Oh hello” she says with a smile. We climb the stairs to the exit together and she talks more in detail about her trip and how she enjoys travelling alone to see new places, as she gets to do a lot more things and meet a lot more people. My friends walk over to say goodbye to me, and she takes this as her cue to leave, for good this time. “Oh well, it was really lovely to meet you” she says. She hugs me goodbye and we kiss on both cheeks and I watch as she joins the crowds of tourists heading towards Trafalgar Square.
“Sorry mate, we didn’t mean to interrupt. We only came over to say see you later.” I sigh and let out a deep breath before wearing a manufactured smile. “Don’t worry about it mate, my fault.” I turn back and watch, feeling impotent to the moment, as she gradually gets crowded out by the tourists before finally disappearing from view. And already the self recrimination has set in, as I torture myself with the haunting memory of yet another road not taken.
Still, I guess there’s always next time...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)