Saturday, 29 October 2011

Coming thick and fast

Men, that is, not orgasms.  I realise it's 2 whole months since my last post, but that doesn't mean I've had another dry spell.  It does mean that I have been rather busy - work has gone mad, MM has moved in with me (well, we thought 10 years together was a good sign) and both my sons have dropped out of uni/college and decided to lie around in bed all day (well, not the older one, he has actually got a job).  So, the homestead is seeing rather a lot of male occupants while I'm out at work fighting bedbugs/cockroaches and other property-related problems.  Still, I've managed to find time for a bit of illicit naughtiness - though god knows how, most of my friends have stopped talking to me because I haven't rung them back for weeks.

It seems obvious that Aussie Bloke has dumped me (par for the course..) but good old is still alive and buzzing.  I decide that I've been too picky so far and that weeding blokes out on the basis of their photos and how witty they are on paper isn't necessarily the best way of finding a lover.  So, I go for the bulk-buy option and basically agree to meet anyone who can string a sentence together and doesn't live too far from Brighton.  So following Prep-Man, and ITMan, I meet, in quick succession, the following:
  1. an accountant (monosyllabic)
  2. a dentist (uncannily like my ex-father-in-law)
  3. a food-stylist (just no)
  4. a hygiene product salesman (strangely, maybe..)
  5. a print consultant (no, I didn't know they existed, either)
  6. a surveyor (thank god, at last, YES!)
I never thought I would get to the stage of getting fed up with being wined and dined by attentive men, but I really was thinking of giving up and taking up crochet instead, until I meet number 4, Jim - the man big in bog-rolls - at The Cricketers in Berwick.  I have on my normal pulling outfit of skinny black jeans and blue T-shirt and denim jacket. (doesn't sound much but it does make me look about 10 years younger).  I park up and am about to get out the car when this guy comes up and is grinning at me like a maniac. I realise it's Jim.  He looks his age (older than my specified max of 49) and, well, he would be the first to admit he's not handsome.  Let's just say he has an interesting face.  Still, if I've learnt one thing from all these dates I've had recently, it's that I can talk to anyone for an hour at least, usually two, and I can still have a good time, even if I never want to see the guy again.  So, I mentally plan to give him at least an hour, maybe a bit longer and then make my excuses.

Well, 3 hours later and we're still gassing away like we are long lost mates.  Jim is from up north and I feel instantly at home with him - I sometimes forget how different southern men are from those north of Watford Gap and I do sometimes really miss the open and direct men I used to take for granted.  The trouble is, I still don't fancy him.  So, when he asks me if I want to see him again, I realise I definitely do, I just don't know if I want to snog him.  As I'm in an open and direct frame of mind, I tell him this.  He is a bit gutted.  Actually, I am a bit gutted I don't fancy him, cos I really, really like him.  After a bit of huffing and puffing from him about how women always say looks don't matter and it's personality that counts and here I am being all fussy about his looks, I eventually agree to meet up with him next week for a no strings evening of fun at the casino and see where it takes us (into debt, probably, knowing my luck.).  Just to double check, I snog him on the way back to the car to see if there is any stirring in my loins.  There isn't, but there is a definite stirring in his so I leave him to it and head off home.  Don't want to be out too late because I have 2 more dates tomorrow (well, I'm getting fed up with it all, so I'm doing one at lunch, one in the evening to get them out the way, then I'm giving up for good.)

Lunchtime date in Henfield pub was OK, he definitely thought he was in with a chance and looked quite amazed when I said no.  Men are so sweetly egotistical it's quite funny.  But I am feeling a bit guilty about saying no to so many nice men, maybe there's a better way of doing it, but I don't know how.  I am a bit more hopeful about my evening date with Sam, the Surveyor, because we have had ongoing flirty texts for quite a while now.

I meet Sam in a pub in Ditchling (could write a pub guide with all this dating) and I like what I see straightaway.  He is tall and well-built, with a big smile and a big hug.  I feel instantly at home with him and we get on really well.  So well, that we start chatting about the website and what a good idea it is.  I see out of the corner of my eye that the guy on the next table keeps looking over at us and I remember I am supposed to be discreet.  I tell Sam we are being listened to and the guy gets up and goes outside.  We fall about laughing and start chatting about something else.  Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather - this guy comes back in and comes over to us and says "I do hope you don't think I was eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but overhear some of your conversation and, well, I'm quite interested in this website you were talking about, and I wonder if you would be good enough to let me have the web address?"   I go bright red, but being the obliging sort, write the address down for him on a beer mat and he heads off - straight home to his laptop, no doubt.  Sam is killing himself laughing and I am apologising, saying "I'm sorry, that was probably my fault, I can get a bit loud, I'm not being very good at being discreet".  Fortunately, he seems to think it's hilarious, which is a relief (Henry, take note...).  Anway, IE probably have me to thank for another customer in East Sussex.

After another drink Sam and I decide to go.  We have established that we would both like to see each other again.  I am looking forward to a nice snog in the car park.  He holds my hand on the way there and then, yes, we have a great snog.  AT LAST someone I fancy.  In fact, I actually say that out loud which surprises Sam - he can't believe I am so picky that I have had 8 dates in a row and he is the only one I fancied (or maybe he was being genuinely modest - nah, that theory goes straight out the window when he tells me I won't get better than him!!!!). 

At least the week has ended well.  Lucky Jim and Sam the Man are on the final shortlist.