Game, Set, Round Two


My first experience with (AKA I like old movies) was a slight failure. But I thought I’d give it another go, because perhaps I was too fresh onto the dating scene the first time around and didn’t ‘play’ properly? So here is a concise(ish) rundown of round two:The Kiwi We went out a few times. He bought me breakfast after our first date (yeah, yeah, first date…sometimes I get carried away). In hindsight, I’m baffled as to why I went out with him more than once. Sure, he was a nice guy, although a little immature…and then we get to the physical side of things. A little immature doesn’t really cover it. Unfortunately, it seems that he was under the impression that ‘faster is better’. Not only did I end up with a sore back, but my hair became so matted that the next morning I had to use half a bottle of (my good) conditioner to detangle. I thought perhaps he would improve with time (like a good red), but I was mistaken. After 5 months of not seeing him, I sort of accidentally on purpose booty called him and it was the same story. Another half bottle of conditioner down the drain. The Turktalian (see what I did there? Like Brangelina but with nationalities) Date one consisted of wine in Marylebone, then a nice kiss on Oxford Street before he went back to work (something to with the Asia shift?). Date two was supposed to be the following Friday but he cancelled. I was not optimistic at this point, however I decided not to lose all hope. He disappeared for a week, to Canada, apparently – and when he returned he asked if he could cook me dinner. I accepted. Turns out though, that the amazing scallops he had bragged about were not available, and so we were having a takeaway instead. Seriously?! Don’t tell me you’re going to cook me one of my favourite things, and then replace that with a bloody curry! Yes, I love curry, but if you say you’re going to cook me dinner, then actually do that! In fairness, it was a nice curry. Later that evening…things progressed to the bedroom (date two, I’m getting better). Whilst in said bedroom. Turktalian starts paying a LOT of attention to my feet. Now, I like a good foot massage. I could have a foot massage everyday and be happy as a clam, but when other things start rubbing against my feet, I get a little freaked out. Especially if there was no pre-warning of this. Now, I’m not opposed to a fetish in general, I just don’t like being surprised, and I don’t like to be surprised all over my feet. Needless to say, I did not see him again. Actually saying that, I didn’t even hear from him again, not that this caused any great distress. Holy Hotness, Soldier! I met this man in a bar in Balham, and proceeded to drink several glasses of wine quite quickly. When I am in the company of a very attractive man, I get a little nervous and tend to drink more than is probably socially acceptable. This can be either very good or very bad, as I am a temperamental drunk. Sometimes, and most often, I am endearing and giggly. Occasionally, I am messy. Messy as in I fall over/become irrational/cry. It seems that the odds were in my favour on this occasion and I became endearing, giggly, and apparently irresistible. After the wine, we went for dinner, then ended up in Brixton of all places, for more alcohol. The soldier was very entertaining, if a little arrogant, and yes, he came back to my place. However I was far too drunk and fell asleep as soon as I landed in my bed. Standard. The next morning, we were both slightly more coherent so the bedroom activities were a little more varied than plain old sleep, and much more enjoyable than recent encounters had been! Finally, someone who knows what they’re doing! As we walked later (him to the tube station, me to Sainsburys for hangover food), he informed me that he’d had an amazing time, and wanted to see me again at the weekend. I agreed with with the summary of the evening/morning and accepted the weekend invitation. Lo and behold, he suddenly realised three days before I was due to see him again, that he couldn’t possibly see me as he was ‘not in a place for commitment at the moment’.

I’m starting to get seriously pissed off with that line. You don’t want commitment? Don’t be on a dating website where the majority of women are looking for a relationship. No commitment? Don’t tell a girl how amazing she is and then leave her hanging. Men want to know why some women are a little bit nuts? You make us that way, idiots! Mixed signals and last minute cancellations make us wonder what the hell it is that we’re doing wrong. And the fact of the matter is, we’re not doing anything wrong. Well, most of the time anyway. All we’re doing is putting ourselves out there, going on date after mind numbing date in the hope that eventually, we will meet someone who makes all of the horrendous conversation and dull company seem worth it. Because eventually we will meet you, the love of our life. The person that you would not only walk through fire for, but who you would also drink cheap chardonnay for (and that’s a lot worse that fire).

There have been many other Match dates, but to go through them all would be far too tedious. The three above were the best worst dates (no, I haven’t written that incorrectly), and all the others aren’t really worth mentioning again.

Next time, a story of a boy who made me cry. While I was naked.

[We can't wait....xoxo BDGS editors]

Kate is 27, lives inLondon and is divorced. Until last summer, she had never actually been on a 'proper' date, so this experience so far has been very educational. She's met some good guys, some bad guys and some ugly guys. She's laughed and cried and is still looking for the person who makes me stop looking. On the whole, she is enjoying my misadventures in the dating world, although sometimes she does feel on the verge of drowning herself in a bucket of red wine. You can follow her on twitter @LDNSingleGirl and on her blog.