Sunday, 20 June 2010

Confessions of a Dating Dilemma, Part Three

So I stayed over that night leaving first thing in the morning in a mad panic to get to work on time. Several texts were sent throughout the day, just the normal kind of thing, followed by a phone call that evening with an arrangement to go out the following night.

The next day, as I’m so poor till I get my first wage from my new job, my phone was cut off. I know, how council, so I had no way of texting him. I still assumed that we’d be going out that evening though. As the time passed by I thought I’d pop home for a shower after work instead of going to meet him straight away. I used a brillo pad and some wire wool to try and scrape of the scent of desperation. Anyway, time passed by and he didn’t get in touch so I phoned him to see what was going on; he’d decided to have a night in with one of his friends but hadn’t let me know. Even though I’d only met the lad once my blood boiled, I wasn’t to impressed and had the smallest of bitch fits, so small in fact I’m sure it wouldn’t even make it onto the bitch fit metre.


So a few days passed and heard nothing so I deleted his number, you know that thing you do to stop yourself from sending any drunken messages only to find yourself going through your inbox to hopefully find a message from them that you've missed. Just then he popped up online and I found myself apologising for slightly over reacting on the Wednesday to which he said he hadn’t even given it a thought he’d just been to busy with work. Call me an old fashioned type of girl but I think if you like someone you’ll always find time to send a text. Anyway he said we’d speak later that night, but yes you guessed it, we didn’t.

The next time I heard off him was three days later when he phoned me from Spain whilst he was on holiday to ask me where the gay bars were as I’d been to the resort a few times before. I’m sure the neighbours heard my jaw hit the floor. I honestly couldn’t believe his cheek. Not even a polite ‘how are you?’
Fast forward a few days and once again we were chatting on line and he said he’d like to meet again but was so distant you’d need a telescope to see him to, I told him bluntly to delete my number and that I couldn’t be arsed with game playing.

So you see, I am a complete disaster when it comes to dating. I am a self confessed compulsive over thinker; I analyse every little meaning and word. I will never get my head around why people feel the need to play games or lead each other on. Maybe it’s a downfall of mine that I tell people exactly what I’m thinking, maybe I come across to strong sometimes or rude at others.

That’s the second lad in two weeks I’ve met and told to delete my number, I don’t know what it is with gays these days, I wish they’d try and be a little more straight. And before you say I’m high maintenance I beg to differ, I’m just very expressive.

Now who’d like to take me out?

Sunday, 13 June 2010

Confessions of a Dating Dilemma, Part Two

Jean Paul Gautier make up applied I hoisted myself into a little yellow t shirt, even though I know I’m no longer slim enough to wear such articles of clothing. After carefully placing a bulldog clip just above my arse to pull back my love handles I decided I was ready to go. I didn’t plan on taking my t shirt off anyway, I was positive this was just a date and there’d be no funny business, well that and the fact I’ve have stretch marks all over my stomach which looks like I’ve had a tattoo of the A-Z.


Climbing aboard the tram to the other side of town I felt the nerves starting to get me. It didn’t really bother me though as I knew that after a large glass, who am I kidding, after a bottle of Blossom Hill the nerves would subside. Well I wasn’t disappointed when I met this lad; let’s call him Lee, because that’s his name. He was tall and handsome and had an amazing arse; you the not the type I mean, could crack Brazil nuts between perfectly formed cheeks.

Relaxing back at his place he revealed his hot tub in his garden where he’d made plans for us to have a quick dip, I quickly suffered a mild panic attack after realising I didn’t have my tankini to hand. I could also hear the police helicopter over head and was certain I’d make the 6 o clock news after being mistaken for a beached whale. Two hours of small talk later we went for a cig at the back door where he then pounced on the back of my neck, kissing me with such a force that made my knees buckle. It was a lovely time. As you know it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone and this was well worth the wait. It was gentle but passionate, his delicate plumped lips slowly moving from my lips to my neck.

As the steam was rising from my sling backs I took another glug of wine before he suggested going up stairs. Well I didn’t need to be asked twice. I felt an awkward moment as it was revealed we were both wearing the same pair of Aussiebums; his arsed filled his out perfectly, I could only pray that he couldn’t see the scaffolding that was holding mine in place.

You don’t need a running commentary of what happened next, but if you would like one feel free to phone my 0901 number where calls are charged at £1.50 a minute. Well after the bedroom frolics we went back downstairs where I polished off another bottle of wine before getting in the hub tub. Just then he dropped a bombshell ‘I’m not a big drinker.’ It was like a dagger through my heart. I knew immediately it would never work......

Part Three coming tomorrow.

Friday, 11 June 2010

Confessions of a dating dilemma, part one

Confessions of a dating dilemma
I can’t bare it. It’s true; I’m completely hopeless with anything slightly related to dates or relationships. In fact the slight suggestion that I could possibly meet a suitable suitor sends me into anaphylactic shock. This could quite possibly explain why I haven’t been kissed where I wee in the last 11 months, or anywhere else for that matter.

After a little persuasion from my best friend Nikkie, well I find it hard to say no when I’ve been head locked and there’s a distant smell of petrol wafting over from the shed, I found myself signing up to a dating website. Now I use the term ‘dating’ loosely, it was Gaydar; it’s actually more like a cattle market for cock. Anyway I signed up, using photos that I could actually get sued over due to the trade descriptions act and this is what happened…..

After typing in the Manchester chat room ‘anyone looking for more than just shag?’ I was literally overwhelmed by the one response. As it turned out I actually quite liked this lads profile and personality, before you know it we were chatting on cam on msn and no you dirty bastards, it wasn’t cam sex. We arranged to meet the following day even though I obviously had no intensions of meeting him at all. Anyway, the next morning I got a text asking if I was still up for meeting, surprisingly I found myself biting the gusset and saying ‘yes.'

Now surely it’s not just me who then goes into panic overdrive, just how the fuck was I going to make myself look presentable for my date? Immediate body grooming commenced. Now it would be fair to say I’d somewhat let myself go, in fact the cast of Robin Hood had currently set up residence in my own Sherwood Forrest. Even though I had no intentions with sleeping with him on the first date I thought it would be for the best that I got my lawn morrow out, avec weed killer.

This problem solved, I then turned my attention to my slightly hairy back & bum, now I normally get this waxed but under time restrictions I decided to Veet. Now it is with this experience that I encourage anyone else thinking of doing the same to seriously rethink. After smelling my hair burning I then jumped into the shower to realise that my arse was also burning; a lesson to everyone out there to read the instructions on the label first. Out the shower I caught the site of my now patchy and hairy back in the mirror, however, undeterred I decided to carry on and get ready for the date; my burnt flaps in tow.

More to follow tomorrow……