The Dilema...

So after last weeks disaster of a date, I got back on track this weekend with the 23 year old. As I've said before, we weren't brought together to solve any world issues, but we certainly have a good time when we're out. There is a big dilema though...

Couple my fear of committment and her over protective parents, there can only be trouble ahead. After saturday's date, I wanted to ask her back to mine, but ended up sending her off at the train station with a teenage like snog. I'm 33 so shouldn't be displaying this type of behaviour, but I'm quite frankly scared of what may happen if we end up sleeping together.

I have visions of bedding their little princess and the Maltese dad warning me that if I do anything to upset his little girl, I'll be sleeping with the fishes before long. Going on past performances with the other sex, there is a high chance somewhere along the line I will be doing wrong by his angel, sooner rather than later. I have to weigh up the pros and cons. On one hand I get to bed and potentially date a cute younger girl, but on the other hand, if I fuck up which is highly likely, I may not get to see in my 34th year. It is a tough one.....

Anyway, I'm off on holiday for the long weekend with friends from tomorrow, so will have time to reflect and no doubt get some great advice from the boys.

My first 3 months of internet dating have been a real eye opener. From a girl fainting on me in a bar to a doctor turning up looking like a street walker, its been a real mixed bag. I have noticed how a woman's clock starts ticking from their early thirties and how this can turn some into a bit of a fruit loop - Settle down, as a desperate lady is not an attractive one. All bar a couple have dates been really decent , so a big pat on the back to the girls from London and the surrounding areas.....

As for the guys, if you have any sort of charm and wit, you ll do just fine. Having spoken about previous dates with some of the girls, the benchmark doesn't seem that high. As I've told my friends, half the work has already been done by the time I turn up on a first date. The reason she is meeting me is my predecessor's weren't cutting the mustard, so her expectation is already low. With a bit of good banter, backed up with a decent happy hour drinks list, you're half way to success.

I've had great fun so far and will be back next week, rested and ready for a new batch......

The Attitude On It.....

So on Wednesday, I had possibly the shortest date in history. Looking back the whole scene was fairly comical, but at the time I was fuming....

I'd arranged to meet the delightful lady in question at 7.30. She was 35, attractive and on the email seemed normal enough. I never spend too much time emailing girls before asking them out as I'm not on the dating site looking for a penpal, but this tactic might change now.

She lived in Fulham and we had arranged to meet in the area, so I set off on a 20 minute walk from my apartment as it was a nice evening. On the way, I received a text letting me know she would be 15 minutes late. No problem there, as I knew the bar was showing the midweek football ,so I could watch that until she arrived....and probably after too if I could positon her well. Once there, I ordered myself a pint and had the pick of any seat as the bar was pretty much deserted....

As I finished off my drink I checked the time and it was now 8pm. Half an hour late. Pushing it a little, but things happen. I got myself another drink and carried on with the football viewing. Half time came and it was now 8.30pm. An hour late and I was getting a little restless.

A few minutes later my phone went and it was Miss Delighful calling from outside the bar.

"I'm outside" she exclaimed

"Ok, well I'm inside, I can see you through the window" I replied

"Come and get me"....

My back was already well and truely up after this short exchange. Cheeky cow - turns up an hour late and is now ordering me about. I have many rubbish traits as you'll have noticed from previous blogs, but bad manners is my pet hate. Turning up so late without an apology falls under this catagory and after her abrupt demands, I almost lost my rag.

"Just come inside, its empty in here so you'll see me"

She then put the phone down and at that point there seemed no way to redeem this date and we hadn't even met. It couldnt get any worse.....

But it did. Miss Delightful then proceeded to talk on her phone outside the bar for another 10 mniutes. By this time my blood was boiling, but I was half thinking it must be a joke as no one could surely be this rude. She eventually walked into the bar and up to me and I sarcastically pointed out that she was over an hour late.

"I know, wasn't my fault though" was her retort. No more, no less.

"So, no apology?"....to which she sighed.....that was the last I could take

"You want to learn some fuckin manners sweetheart" (I get the contradiction of me swearing at a woman and hating bad manners, but I think I was fully justified). With this I got up and walked out, sporting a little childish grin as I left. There was no winner out of the evening, but this had to be the shortest date in history. Our face to face meet lasted for no longer than 30 seconds. That in itself warranted a chuckle.....

I'll put that one down to experience. I don't think I have ever meet an adult in their 30's with such a bad attitude problem. Luckily I have a weekend date with my favourite 23 year old, so the memory will fade quickly enough....

Ease Up On The Fake Tan, Honey

Although I've come in for a fair amount of ribbing through the years due to fake tanning, I'm still a great advocat of it when done properly. Unfortunately, I generally used to apply it still half cut from the previous evening at 6am, before heading off to work. The intention was to make my face radiate a bit more than the pale drunken mess that stared back at me in the mirror. Potentially I could get a nice tanned glow that would fool work colleagues and bosses into thinking that I'd got an early night, but in reality I looked as though I'd varnished someone's parquet flooring with my face. I also never cleaned my hands properly after application, so they looked like I'd been up all night hand painting with a 5 year old. Not a great all round look when heading into an Investment Bank, but I somehow managed to hold down a career up in the city for over decade.

When I caught sight of my date on saturday evening, it was quite apparent I wasn't the only one that struggled with the whole fake tanning process. She jokingly suggested in one of her emails that she hoped we'd recognise each other. I certainly had no trouble in picking her from the crowd at Waterloo - she was quite literally glowing.

After my eyes had adjusted to the hightened brightness levels, we headed off for a bite to eat. Straight off the bat, she told me she had recently caught her long term boyfriend cheating with another girl from their tennis club. Ouch. I was her second online date, but it soon became clear that her ex's betrayal was still on her mind.

From here, a guy can go one of two ways. Get a little annoyed that his date keeps yapping on about her ex boyfriend or see this situation as a great opportunity to have a bit of rebound sex. I chose the latter....

Listening intently to her story, whilst constantly topping up her wine glass, I threw in a few comments like "He must be mad to let you go" and "I bet he'll end up regretting his choice soon enough". I started to zone out on most of the conversation as it was fucking boring me, but the odd boosting of her confidence as she paused for breath was well received.

We finished up the meal and went onto another bar. By this time talk of her ex was easing up and she was becoming a bit more tactile...like the A-Team, I love it when a plan comes together. My tactics of letting her talk and gently massaging her tattered ego were paying off, but there was still one big stumbling block. She lived over in Essex and me in SW London. This is really where I had to step my game up if I were to get her back to mine.

Knowing that she was still quite clearly not over her ex, it was time to subtly let her know she should be letting her hair down, having fun, going wild.....and most importantly, sleeping with me.

Its never a good idea to be too complimentary really early in the date as this can come across as overly keen, so once the signs are there that she enjoys your company, whether it be by her laughing at most things you have to say, being tactile or playing with her hair, its time to schmooze.

From letting her know that she looked so much younger than her age (she was 32 and looked...about 32), to telling her that she should really start enjoying her new found freedom, I seemed to be getting through. When she came back from the bar with our drinks + a couple of shots, I knew my chances of getting her over to my side of town were vastly improving. I suggested we should go and have a boogie somewhere to which she agreed. Then I slipped in that there is a really good club (complete lie, its a shithole) in Clapham, which is only a 10 min cab ride away, but more conveniently, where I live. She agreed. Before we left to jump into a taxi, I went into the toilet, really just to congratulate myself more than anything. Mission complete...or so I thought.

Whilst in the nightclub waiting to be served, I sent a text to a couple of mates informing them I would be getting laid later on. Too smug. After a little dance to some 70's classics and a few more drinks, we headed back to my place. On the short cab journey home, my bubble burst. She informed me that "I'm not going to sleep with you tonight". Huh? Had she headed 90 minutes away from her area to play a bit of late night scrabble? I agreed with her whole heartedly that we shouldn't, but I thought once we were in bed it would be a different story....

It wasn't. She got down to her thong and bra and had an arse like a ripe peach. We had a little kiss but she was adament it wasn't going any further. My last attempt was to get some music on to put her in the mood, but by the time I'd found my ipod, fumbled about to get it onto the Boys 2 Men playlist and managed to plug it into my speakers, she had nodded off. The art of seduction.

I'm not a great sleeper, so there was no way I was going to snooze next to a half naked girl with an arse so good I wanted to take a bite out of it. I went into the lounge and stayed up watching some shit early hours film until I finally dropped off.

She left very early as she had a family lunch, which I was most pleased with. I climbed into my bed and nursed my hangover for much of the day. Although she was a nice girl, I'm pretty sure we won't see each other again, due to distance and if I was to date her long term, my fake tan outlay would go through the roof....

Take care my little orange friend......

Its Not You, Its Me....

Coming hard on the heels of my "Don't hate the player, hate the game" line, I've now gone and used another sickening cliche. Its not you, its me. I'm almost starting to dislike myself.....

I was dating the air stewardess again on saturday night and I went into it with an open mind. I liked her on almost every level, apart from the fact she was trying to speed things along quicker than Usain Bolt hurtles down a track. After our last date, I almost called things off, but I thought maybe after her work trip to Hong Kong the previous week, she may have come back a bit more relaxed....

As usual, she drove up to my place and we headed out into Clapham. I took her to a nice Italian place that I know and we settled down to some good food and wine. The conversation was flowing and I was starting to forget what it was that had made me even contemplate having the "chat" with her. She is sexy, good fun and a generally a really decent girl. What the fuck is my problem?...

Well, this is my problem. As we finished up the meal and headed to a bar, she by this time was a little tipsy. We'd only shared a bottle of wine so I was still pretty much stone cold sober. She had locked her arm in mine and we were strolling quite happily along when she came out with "I really like it in Clapham. I could see myself living here"....

Within milliseconds of the final word of that sentence, I had stiffened up as though rigormortis had set in, my heart had stopped beating and I felt my sweat glands filling up. Some may say I'm over reacting, but those 12 words changed the course of an evening. This was only the fourth time we have met and already she had probed me about where our relationship was heading. Now she was putting into my sub conscious that she would like to live near - or possibly with, I wasn't about to ask - me. I muttered something back about it being a nice area, then dragged her into the first bar in sight - I needed a drink.....

I had paid for dinner so she offered to get the first drinks in. Whilst she was at the bar, my mind was working overtime to think of how to politely say I think we should move on. My first attempt was using the fact that I was her first date on Match - I suggested in a jovial manner that she should arrange some more dates to see what the compettition is like and it was a waste of her subscription fee to date just one guy. That didn't seem to register and she just laughed it off and told me to stop being silly....I'm really not.....

Then I started on with the fact that there must be a reason why I've had so few long term girlfriends. Listing all my bad points wasn't difficult, but again this just seemed to get jokingly swept aside. I headed off for a toilet break to gather my thoughts and as I locked myself in the cubicle, it came to me. Who would have thought a toilet seat could give such inspiration, but its as if it spoke to me....

Remebering that I had told her I used cocaine a fair bit - mainly being snorted on one knee in bar/nightclub cubicles, hence the inspiration - I suddenly saw fit for me to lie and say I had gone back to substance abuse and needed help before I could even contemplate letting anoyone into my life. Fucking genius. She doesn't feel like she is getting the brush off, her heart goes out to me, I get to walk away knowing that her feelings aren't damaged, everyone, quite simply, is a winner...

As I headed back down to the bar, I took a deep breath ready for a De Niro like acting performance...and to be fair I didn't disappoint with the conclusion of the story ending with a "So honey, its nothing to do with you. This is my problem and once I sort myself out, hopefully we can see where things go from there". I really think I handed my balls in a birth sometimes as I am such a coward to the bitter end. I've never finshed properly with anyone in my life as generally I just wait till I get the elbow, tell massive lies as above or I just stop answering calls and emails in the knowledge that they will eventually go away. As I said earlier, I'm starting to dislike me as well.....

Anyway, she was convinced by my little Oscar worthy performance and we ended up having a few more drinks, then heading back to mine as she had driven up. In the morning, for some reason it felt like a massive weight had been lifted and I was slighlty proud of myself as she left in fairly good spirits and told me to email her if I needed anything. Who said honesty is the best policy......

I'll Give Up Work At 28....

I have an age range of 23-33 on my online dating profile which I believe is broad enough to catch me the girl that I'm after. The beauty of life is that we're all attracted by different things, but one trait that has never been on my radar is the older woman. Maybe its my obvious fear of commitment, but I like the energy and care free attitude that comes with dating younger girls, although last night was an exception to the rule....

If I'm honest, I was sure she would be high maintainance from our email conversations, but I'm a sucker for a pretty face. She drove over to a bar that is a 2 minute walk from my flat, so I really had nothing to lose other than a few hours of my time.

She was 24 years old and living on her own in Mayfair. For those that don't know, this is one of, if not the, most exclusive addresses in London, reserved for the super rich. It is probably only 5 miles from where I live, but worlds apart.....and I think her sat nav was telling her that as she must have called at least 5 times on the way over to ask directions.

As I was guiding her in from the bar I saw a black Range Rover pull up over the road. Definately her. I knew she worked for a hedge fund, but without sounding too sexist, there is no way a 24 year old girl can afford to live in Mayfair and drive a Range without a little help....from Daddy no doubt.

As she headed into the bar, I could almost feel the class barriers crashing. Although I was lucky enough to go to private school, I ended up coming out of the education system with what can only be described as a slight Essex accent. Lets just say I'm more Danny Dyer than Prince Harry, although I have huge affection for my favourite Royal.

I was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and timberlands. She turned up looking like she was ready for a night at the Opera. Long black leather gloves, a cravat and a pair of shoes on that possibly cost more than the bar we were in.

Although I had been presumptuous about the type of girl she was, it soon became apparent that I was correct. Daddy was a celebrity in Malta and mummy was a Dutch model. She had come to the UK by herself about a year ago and although I have respect for anyone who sets out on their own, it does help to ease the loneliness when papa buys you an apartment in Central London to reside in and ships over a customised Range Rover for you. Its hardly the same as staying at the local YMCA or getting a Greyhound bus between destinations.

We started talking about previous online dates and it was evident that her theme was anyone with a bit of money, mainly hedge fund CEO's or Investment bankers. She told me that working past 28 years of age was not an option as by then she would "have a man to take care of my every need". Poor fucker. He'll be getting sex once a year or when she wants kids and thats his lot. She was so self absorbed I almost felt sorry for her as it clearly was beacuase the parents had given her absolutely everything, but then I looked out of the window at her car and the pity soon faded.

She wasn't drinking and the more alcohol I have, the worse my accent gets. By the end of the evening, I felt like Oliver Twist. I was almost tempted to ask her if she'd sponsor me - she could tell her friends she helps a Cockney fellow out for charity.

Although I take everyone at face value and I'd like to think I'm fairly easy to get on with, could I see myself quaffing champers at a polo match with Tarquin and Henretta talking about country retreats?.....well yes, but someone may release the hounds this South London oik so I'll stick to what I know....

I'm out with the air stewardess again this weekend. It maybe my second online dating break up if she carries on with the pressure questions and I'm not even 3 months in....

East Meets West...

So after a heavy friday night in central London with friends which finished up around 6am, I woke late in the afternoon on saturday. I looked a fucking mess and I was sure my Bangladeshi date that evening wouldn't have been to impressed with what she saw - literally looked like I'd just walked out of a joint do for Pete Doherty and Amy Winehouse. After getting a good lot of food inside me, shower and shave, I was still feeling horrendous, but like a true Brit, I was ready to go and drink through it....

I can go one of two ways here - sometimes with hare of the dog I can turn into a drunken mess within two drinks, whilst other times its as if I hadn't touched a drop the night before. I was hoping I could pull of the later, but it was in the hand of the gods...

I turned up a bit early to the bar we were meeting in and started realising that I had no idea what she did, if she spoke with a full on Bangledshi accent or anything about her culture.....luckily the barmaid told me it was still happy hour so that calmed my nerves and by the time my date turned up, I had two bottles of beer infornt of me. Good start...

She had an absolutely beautiful face and very calm manner. I'm fairly hyper at the best of times so this really was ying and yang. I was still pretty unsteady from the previous night's drinking so I kept firing questions about her culture and country to deflect from my obvious lack of conversational skills - she must have thought I was writing the Lonely Planet chapter on Bangledesh with the amount of facts I was after...

After a couple of hours, she was still nursing a small glass of wine with a bottle of water. By this point, I'd had my fair share of 2 for 1 bottles of beer and she did comment on my drinking. Not a great sign after 120 minutes of meeting, but I think if I'd tried to explain that I was drinking quickly to lessen my shakes as I'd got shitfaced the previous night, that wouldn't have been the answer she was looking for....We actually moved onto another bar, but it was more going through the motions. Come around 10ish, I was ready to get away, so told her I had work in the morning. We said our goodbyes and I headed home content with 3 pieces of chicken and chips....

I am all up for experiencing new cultures, but I think when it comes to a partner, there is alot to be said for coming from the same background or at least having the same mother tongue. You have shared alot of common experiences and can laugh/discuss these at will, whereas alot will get lost in translation with someone from elsewhere on the planet. Anyway, its each to there own, but think I'll be sticking to dating girls with English as their first langauge - if I can't find a girl in that wide a demographic, then I've got my own issues to address...

My air stewardess is back in town early this week so will be hooking up with her at some point. I've calmed down from her awkward questions, but we'll see how it goes this week. I've also been chatting away on the email with a young daddy's girl living in Mayfair, so may dust off the cravat and blazer ready fro a date with her...