The story so far, also known as Instalment One in the frantic catch-up

Well, I guess I'm a little late in starting this blog. I rejoined the online dating site which is going to be my...haha...passport to good lovin on November 3rd. I had previously joined it in March this year and was a member for approximately two minutes flat before I was sucked into a crazy, crazy relationship with a man who...well we had some issues. It was wonderful, then it was awful, then it was painful. And then, it was over. So as I said, on November 3rd, I rejoined. I cautiously put up the profile that got me into this mess in the first place, and then, having lit the touch paper, I ran away swiftly and waited for the bang.

The first bang (oh, the puns are going to be plentiful, let me TELL you) arrived in the form of D. D was tall, goodlooking, funny. Sweet and shy. Oh. And had lost his wife barely 18 months earlier. At the age of 27. To a failed operation. Oh yes. Issues. Tragic, awful ones. Ignoring the frantic arm-waving and panicked noises of my friends (and the shouts of "Wife-killer!" from A and N), I said why yes, let's go on a date, when he asked me out. And so off we went and do you know what, it was actually very nice. He was indeed very sweet and goodlooking and he smelled delicious. He kissed me outside the comic store. It was nice. It was lovely. The only problem was he never spoke. I mean...barely a word. In fact he spoke so little that I fell asleep on his sofa...on the first date. There was no scintillating conversation, oh no. There was sleep. He ended up putting me to bed, and in the morning I got up, had a shower and tiptoed away. The week that followed was considerably subdued; I wonder if he'd hoped to silently will me into sleeping with him? Perhaps, I suppose. I hasten to add that he'd have had a lot more success if he'd just thrown me over one shoulder and gone forth to the bedroom. Or asked. Or...anything, really haha. Anyway, finally, on the following Friday he managed to ask me to the cinema over that coming weekend. No time, no specific day, mind you. Just, let's go. I said, sure, and then promptly waited all day Saturday until at 9pm he blurted out via text that he was off to the cinema to watch the film we were supposed to go and see together ON HIS OWN. Yes, dear reader. That's right. He stood me up to go out BY HIMSELF. Don't mind me, I'll be over here HACKING at myself.

Anyway, we've not seen him since. Rather unsurprisingly.

So while that one was burning brightly and fizzling out quickly, in the background there was another contender quietly staking a claim. We'll call him S, also Lovely S will do. He was quiet and gentlemanly and careful and courteous with the courting. There were lots of emails, all polite and funny and sweet and not asking any offensive questions about my breast size (which is a whole other ENTRY'S worth, we'll get to that one soon enough). After about twenty emails, he asked if he could add me to messenger so we could IM. After an evening of frantic and hilarious IMing, he very coyly gave me his phone number and asked me for mine. For the last couple of weeks there has been a steady flurry of kind, sweet, and occasionally VERY dirty text messages, and a couple of really quite lovely heart thumpy phone calls...RIGHT up until today. Nothing. Not a peep. I suspect this may have something to do with my stunned response to him informing me that he wanted me to "make him drink my piss". *blink* So um...well, I'll keep you all informed on that one. Rather disconcertingly I still really quite fancy him so um. Let's keep an open mind. And try not to drink too many fluids around him. Just in case.

I've forgotten one particularly tragi-comic episode from very early on - and that is the first person to send me a message. We'll call him...T. T started out quite promising. He was a little young for me but hey - one of my exes isn't quite 24 yet so let's not think on that too hard. Anyway, like I said, I'm just aiming to have a little fun, get back on that hoss. As it, er, were. Except...T...isn't really much of a hoss. I suspect that T was being allowed to go on the internet by his carers. I actually think that T may have been a lot more special than he let on, and I was quite worried by all accounts. Anyway quite apart from that - and I was very gentle and said no, I did not want to "be his girlfriend" - I shall share with you what tipped things off for me. It was his disclosure that I "sounded a bit trendy" (this because I wear Dr Martens); he himself likes "a jumper and some tracksuit bottoms and some nice shoes". I do vaguely remember shoving my entire fist into my mouth in abject horror. This? This was going to be the young stud who got me back on that hoss? Uh, no. Poor boy, I felt awful. And I didn't allow any further contact, I hasten to add.

Now, there's a whole lot more to come on the catching up, but right now I'm exhausted from dodging randy cobblers (oh...the hilarity. No really) and shopping for birthday presents for my mother, so they'll have to be captured in all their glory tomorrow.