How LOVELY.

I just went for coffee with a thoroughly lovely man. This was the nice local one that I'd missed two dates with - third time lucky indeed. He is very funny and odd and extremely handsome. He also does not smell of Dog and I am seeing him Wednesday. Approved!

Hoo boy.

So tonight I had a date with a New One, via Match. He invited me over to his for dinner and suchlike; after getting his address and leaving it with everyone I know, along with his phone number and a physical description, I set out all intrepid, hair done, makeup on, legs shaved, favourite t-shirt and all. Things began to take a nasty turn when he opened the door and an aroma that could only be described as Hot Wet Dog escaped the hallway. Oh please, God, let this not be dinner.

Anyway. He ushers me into a (reasonably....okay scruffy yes but not actually dirty) room and bids me be seated; I did try, but apparently the seat had been broken for quite some time, because there was no audible "oh God I just broke that" noise, more a soft flooooooooooooooooomp as I ended up sitting near as damnit on the floor with my knees round my ears.

The conversation was quite boring and one-sided (his). The food was indeed Hot Wet Dog (I pushed it around a bit and pleaded the fifth). The end of the evening came when I ventured into the bathroom - I just couldn't hang on any more - to discover that the toilet was still festooned with shit from where he'd apparently had a copious and explosive, er, release shortly before I came round. I mean for GOD'S SAKE. You'd never leave something like that would you? Would you? Anyway, horrified, I crept back into the lounge and, since he had started doing the slow creep towards me, feigned sickness (although after the bathroom and the waft of Dog it wasn't much of an effort), and legged it. LEGGED IT I SAY. *shudder* eurgh.

On the PLUS side darlings. The lovely local type who I keep missing has asked if I will go out tomorrow afternoon; the plan thus far is to meet for coffee at 2.30pm and see where the wind blows us. He is evidently not put off by my short fat cripple image. I am certainly not put off at all by his 6'4" really-quite-handsome thing. Oh well we'll see - although if he smells even slightly of Dog I am OUT.

Holdups, hangups and hookups.

So it's been a little while since I updated - I started a new, full time teaching job just over a week ago and that combined with the music writing (which has taken off in a quite remarkable fashion) and the dates - oh there's still dates believe me - has left me kinda wiped out! Anyway. Let us catch up on everything.

The last time I updated was a week ago. That evening, I went to review some bands for the magazine I'm writing for and Napoleon Dynamite came along with me, and you know - he's really quite good fun company. He's a bit odd. I mean...with his physical placing and behaviour around me, I can't work him out, but still we have a nice fun time. I went out again with him Sunday night to see a film, and he's picked some tickets up for some of the gigs I've got coming up to review, including one tomorrow night. He is not very demonstrative in words, but I had an oddly sweet text message from him saying, Hello. I have sent you a list of depressing films. I am looking forward to seeing you Thursday. X Sure enough, he'd emailed me his top fifty depressing films. Genius. He is so odd though. In a good way. Last weekend I also went over to spend the afternoon with the beautiful Italian, V, who is lovely and gorgeous and just...no, no, no. We had a really fun time but I think he is too emotionally messy for me. I like him but not for my man.

My lovely Iranian boy...well, we didn't get together as plannedlast weekend - hence I was out and about. Something cropped up and we put it off, and actually I've barely heard from him; I've actually had to be chasing to get anything from him. And darlings...I don't chase. Ever. Not unless it's really fucking serious. SO the current state of play is...I miss his cheerful little face and his, er, other cheerful physical attributes and so on but he needs to be in touch with me if he wants anything, which I've made quite clear to him.

What else. Oh well I was asked out on a date by a very local guy, literally round the corner, very nice looking, seems quite nice - an illustrator, but we've postponed twice now and he's just asked me out again this Saturday afternoon and so I've just asked my usual question. Hi, you do realise I am short and fat and a bit crippled don't you? No answer yet. Well, it sorts the men from the boys.

Finally...and here's the alarming one. Okay. So. Way back in the mists of time, about four months ago when I first signed up to the dating site for bigger girls (I pretty much just use Match.com now, except I barely use that either, but anyway), I got a few emails and IMs from a seriously...and I do mean seriously fucking gorgeous law student. Much too young. Somewhat out of my league. Vanished mysteriously around Christmas. Didn't really think any more of it. Anyway on...hm. Monday? Perhaps? I get an e-mail. Oh hi. Remember me? ...Why yes. Yes I do.

Well. For some time now I have wondered how straight people do the hookup for sex thing. That sounds naive and oldfashioned, but I have to be honest. Don't forget I never did this before and I've got nobody to ask! Let me explain. I know how Gaydar and the personals work for gay guys (and girls, to a slightly lesser extent). Where I worked, the work I was doing, and the guys I worked with cleared that one up for me. Haha. But for the straights...I hadn't really twigged how that one worked. Perhaps you still have to go out and find someone? Or...er...oh no apparently not. He basically chatted me up a bit, and then pretty much asked me if I wanted to go over to his place on Saturday night. No, shall we go on a few dates and see if we like each other. Just, let's fuck. WELL. Um. Blimey. I actually said, you know honey...we might not like each other. Putting aside all the other social etiquette rules...you just invited a completely strange woman to your house to have sex. Hi are you mad? Apparently no, this is now the Done Thing. I'm going to suggest we go for a DRINK. And then we'll see. I mean I'm not exactly shy but...crikey. *mops brow* Bejesus.

I tell you, it's enough to make you want to get under the covers and never come out.

Early morning muse

I guess this whole exercise has been, largely, about figuring out what sort of relationship I want and where I want to fit into that, and how I want that relationship to fit into my life, rather than - as has been for the first thirty years - the other way around being the case.

So, having said that, let's look at the current state of play.

V (the Italian) - sweet, funny, devastatingly attractive...lowest self esteem ever, depressed, doesn't go out very much...I'm going to have to get back to you on that one. I don't know if I want to be the fixer again. Look at me not going straight for my script for once.

R (came with me to a gig last Friday night) - nice enough, heard nothing from him since, I'm not down to chase.

C (Napoleon Dynamite Benjamin Button guy - well...he's a bit weird. He's nice, but odd. I've not figured out the problem yet.

W (the nice photographer) - showing no inclination to arrange any second dates anytime soon.

N (the Glaswegian) - talks to me most days. Begs me to go and spend the weekend with him. Also knows I've hardly any money and can't afford the petrol, has not offered once to even meet me halfway.

And finally...

A (the much-too-young-Iranian) - you know, I wonder if I'm looking for something that's not there. I think I'm almost put off because it's too simple. He's attractive, funny, perpetually cheerful, has a nice solid family background, no visible madness or trauma, owns his own house and if I'm sick or the weather's bad will cheerfully drive fifty miles to say hi. I always have fun with him. There is no big serious weirdness going on. He clearly thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread, but not in a creepy Heartbreaker ExBoyfriend kind of way. I don't know. I am quietly, secretly, quite fond of him. I was secretly rather worried last weekend when he had food poisoning and spent 24 hours in hospital and I couldn't get hold of him. Anyway. Last night he phones and goes, what you doing the weekend? I go, nothing so far. He goes, well, this might be too forward so you can say no but do you just want to come over here and we'll go for a drink and a dance and you can meet some of my mates? And do you know, it struck me. Best part of a year I was with the Heartbreaker Ex and he never once wanted to introduce me to anybody. A, my best friend, always says not to make the ordinary extraordinary but you know...what is worse is the feeling of sadness I get when I realise that actually for me it kind of is.

So anyway. Right now he's the only one acting normal, treating me like an actual normal girl, and to be honest it's just nice. At first I was a bit concerned that perhaps it was a case of I-only-like-him-cause-he-likes-me, but actually, that's not how it is really. I caught myself thinking I quite missed his cheery face last night, which was a bit odd. And speak of the devil and he'll text you to say good morning and have you left for work yet.

I'm going to give this some thought. (I didn't say yes for the weekend yet either.)

Further ponderings, and a post-weekend update

So...I had a strangely lovely time yesterday with a somewhat confusing man. You will remember, or praps you won't, that I'd had a few brief email exchanges with the guy who went ahead and booked the swanky sofa at the local indie cinema to see Benjamin Button? Well, anyway. I trundled into the city and met him - after a bit of faffing about because I'll be really honest...he didn't look like his photo. At all. He was very, very quiet. Exceptionally so. He was sort of...well. He was QUIET. And geeky but not in a cool-geeky way...more of a...Napoleon Dynamite geeky kind of way. But nice company. We watched the film, he stands up and blurts out, "Do you smoke?", we wandered outside and he's rolled me a cigarette and we stood there for a minute, me all tearstained haha...him saying nothing. And then from nowhere he dabs at my face all matter of fact, not awkward at all, and goes, have you got to go home? I say no, it's only 8 o'clock. He stands there just looking at me until I go, shall we go and eat? Since we were on the edge of Chinatown. So we did, and it was sort of comfortably awkward and we talked about travelling a lot and he just...kind of...he was very nervous. His hands shook terribly. His bus stop was on the edge of town, the way I was driving home, so I dropped him off and he kissed me. Not a 'we kissed', moment by any stretch - no. He was most definitely in charge. I was the somewhat surprised recipient. No nerves there.

He was an odd combination of terrified and confident and geeky and very funny. And not what I'd normally go for, but oddly attractive, in a gangly curly wearing glasses kind of way. Anyway I'm out reviewing on Wednesday and got guestlisted twice, and I'd already said if he wanted my spare he could have it so...I guess we'll see. He was odd. In a good way. I think.

Radar fail

I swear...one of the things I've not learned yet is how to tune in my Man Radar. I went out to review tonight, and R - the musician I mentioned - came along to meet me. We had a very pleasant evening, the bands were great, we got on like a house on fire. I didn't have the crazy flipfloppy tummy, but he's good company. (He's got funny teeth...praps that's it. Anyway.) So. We have a nice night. There is the customary standing too close, touchy feely contact protocol stuck to and followed all evening. He walks me to my car, and promptly legs it without even shaking hands. Okay so uh...perhaps he was standing too close because it was loud and crowded? Obviously didn't fancy me? Right? Right?

Er...wrong? I hadn't even got home when the text popped up on my phone: thank you for a lovely evening, I had such a good time, let's do it again soon? Well if you want to of course, but I do! Hope you're home safe. x

*blink*

But...I...you ran off surely that means...no? Uh? Huh?!

Okay and then there's the beautiful one from last Friday night, who has called and IMd and texted me all week, made me put my webcam on 'so he can see me', sends strangely touching affectionate little messages on his lunch break, has asked me to go up and see him, but is apparently unable to suggest something outright - I mean...I don't get it. I don't GET it...lol.

The only one I am currently understanding is the much-too-young-for-me guy, who is rather charmingly still displaying the appropriately awed behaviour of someone who just got shown the uncensored instruction manual and was allowed to have a go. At least he's upfront; when can I see you next? I'm free on these days, just tell me when. I'll come to you, I know you've got to get up early for work. See, that's easy. I say what shall we do? He gives a list of suggestions. (Not saucy ones, he just doesn't expect me to make ALL the decisions, which makes a pleasant change, and I'm sorry, but it's nice for someone to ask for what they want for once.)

And thus I share with you all my perpetual confusion and shall now bid you goodnight and go and lay down.

So...here's the weekend lineup.

lTomorrow night I have to go out and review some bands. A random straggler has invited himself along; I hope he understands I will mostly be touching up record label types and trying to snag setlists all night...we'll see. He's a musician. I think he's only coming because he suspects I may know the NME.

Saturday is the International Singleton's Day of Misery (or something). I plan to spend the whole day in my pyjamas eating chocolate and reading comics.

Sunday I'm meeting the guy who went ahead and booked seats for Benjamin Button - strangely though he's hardly been in touch since sorting it out so I'll have to wait and see. How peculiar. I'm presuming it's still on, but these man creatures are a funny bunch.

Now then. Without rubbing it in...I barely got any sleep last night so um...haha. *tosses hair* Night!

Home truths

1. I may INTEND to stick to my guns, but add alcohol and um...I might not be so...how shall we say...committed

2. It is entirely possible that I didn't make it home last night and

3. The camera never lies.





....HAHAHAHA! *cough*

...

...even if it is fucking enormous.

(To be fair, if I had a cock that big, I'd probably show you all too.)

For your amusement

Suggestions, please.

What do you think Much-Too-Young-For-Me-Boy said to provoke my statement:
"But I can't think of anywhere I could find a trampoline at that time of night..."

Go on. Let your imaginations run FREE..muahahaa. Poor fella. He really shouldn't have sent me all those photos of his cock.

Easy tiger!

Blimey. Well, yesterday was nice. I spent it at my friend's house eating far too much and watching silly films and...um...being the somewhat gleeful recipient of multiple phone calls from the gorgeous Friday Night Date. Oh hello. This morning when I got up (at the crack of dawn, I might add), he'd already e-mailed me to say good morning and wish me a nice day and to say he looked forward to talking to me this evening. How nice.

On the other hand...my much-too-young friend has redoubled his efforts following my refusal to spend next weekend with him being loved up (see previous posts) and has, er, took it upon himself to try a completely different approach. Up til now he's been very polite. No saucy texts, no dirty emails, no suggestiveness at all. I mean obviously he's not shy in person but he's never been, well. Even the slightest bit naughty.

...Until now.

Now, it appears, he's decided the way forward is to prove exactly how much he likes me...how very, VERY much....by showing me precisely what I'm going to be missing by not holing up in a hotel all weekend with him. I nearly dropped the phone when I opened that particular photo message. Good lord. *cough* Apparently...in purely physical terms...well, it would seem I am going to be missing a considerable amount.

I think I need a cup of tea and a smoke. And possibly...a lie down. Somewhere quiet.

Hrm.

God...I just read my last post back and you know...I'm not a meanie. I'm not some heartless horrible girl. That's precisely why I'm not going to see him this weekend; it seems I've got the wrong idea about what we're both bringing to the table here and maybe I'm older and can separate the love and the sex out better but I just don't want to break any hearts. I've always said that at thirty years old, I've never broken any hearts - and perhaps for some people that'd be a mark of failure but for me I'd rather keep it that way. I don't want anyone getting hurt, fucked over, or to go into something expecting one thing and getting another.

I know it's traditional to just expect the guy to be happy he's getting some, but you know...he's a lot younger than me. I think I'd feel I was taking advantage or being dishonest if I slept with him, suspecting that he might be...oh I don't know. Perhaps I've overreacted but you know what, it feels like the right thing to do. There's no need to rush anyway and I refuse to be held hostage by a day of the week. I'd rather overreact and be accused of being a dumbass than really, genuinely hurt someone. I'll be sticking to my guns.

He's gone very quiet, incidentally. I think I've done the right thing.

Arrrrrgggggggggggggghhhhhhhh

So. Next Saturday is the day guaranteed to strike fear into every singleton's heart. Fucking Valentine's Day. Gah. Quick! Find a date! Fall in love! Feel successful! So, to avoid all festivities I've made sure I'm working both Friday AND Saturday nights reviewing, and hopefully that will ensure I'm too busy all weekend writing to have to bother with it. Except of course...the much-too-young-and-now-with-increased-enthusiasm-boy from Thursday night is making a full on steamrollering attempt. I was momentarily caught unawares, as he just casually goes, so what time does your band finish Friday night? He'd already sent some rather frisky messages this morning so I wasn't really reading much into things - other than I might finally be about to get some - when he says, I think I'm going to nab a hotel room Friday night young lady. Sound good? Well yes, yes it does. Finally! Except THEN he goes....yeah I'll bring my laptop so you can write your article and then we can spend the day together...

[insert pause here]

I say, um, what? Since when did the third-date shag turn into let's spend the weekend together? (I didn't say that part out loud, at this point.)

He goes, yes, it's Valentine's Day isn't it - we can spend the day together it'll be lovely!

I say, um, I have to write an article and get it into the magazine and then I have another night out reviewing on Saturday, deliberately arranged so I can AVOID VALENTINE'S DAY. And hi...you're twenty four years old. If you're doing it right I'll need to go home to my bed and some PAINKILLERS during the daytime on Saturday.

Anyway the long and the short of it is I just said...ya know what? I'll see you the week after next. This is putting way too much pressure and expectation on things. I thought we were having a nice casual fun thing, possibly about to involve some lovely filthy happy sex, but um....apparently not. Time to start phasing this one out I think.

I probably sound contradictory. The thing is...I'm dating at the moment. I am looking for a partner, eventually, but I'm in no rush. I value being left alone when I say, leave me alone. I was enjoying having a lighthearted, casual fling with someone who I find attractive who finds ME attractive and to be honest I thought we were both just scratching each other's itch. I've made it quite clear that I'm nobody's girlfriend. I'm not being exclusive because there's nothing to be exclusive about; for the most part I don't have sex, or even end up in bed with the men I date, and to be honest that usually suits me pretty well. I'm in no hurry. I think what I'm most cross about is using the date as some kind of tool to kind of...ensure something. It's a very, oh I don't know. I'm just infuriated.

Anyway I think I've made myself very clear; I just said, look. Valentine's Day is all very nice for couples; it's a cute little marker of something that should permeate every day of the relationship anyway. But for single people, it's nothing. It's a celebration of love. Don't get things mixed up.

It's very late, but this tickled me.

Well

I am quite excited to see the Twitter feed already has a few followers - I shall be sure to announce loud and clear when I'm going out, in case anyone really wants the blow-by-blow accounts. I think it could be quite amusing. I sort of wish I'd been able to tell V last night, by the way I want to tweet the date as it's in progress - he's geeky enough he'd probably have found it funny, bless him. But I think the terrifying Chinese meal and the ketchup incident in the pub would have been quite entertaining had I been able to sneakily update on them as they happened. Well, we'll see. Perhaps I need to brush up on my sneak tweeting. Haha.

Anyway. It is EXTREMELY cold, and probably snowing again, so I'm going to creep into bed and sulk because...let's face it dear reader...I've still not got laid. Fairly soon I'm going to lose my mojo, or something. I will forget my BED FU. Le sigh. Right! I'm off.

All things in moderation

I just received a nudge on Match. I had a quick look at his profile. No photo. This was the entirety of the content:

HI LADIES IM SINGLE AND R LOOKIN FOR SOME FUN AND LOVEING . IM UR AVERAGE GUY FULL TIME EMPLOYMENT . UP FOR NEW EXPERIENCES AND ALSO UR AGE N LOOKS NOT IMPORTANT JUST SEND ME A MAIL AND SEE THE REST FOR URSELF X X X DONT BE SHY IL STIL CUM AND TRY X X X

I r looking for some loveing.
Indeed.

And completely out of nowhere...

Okay so...this is completely unexpected. This guy, local, cute, pleasant, likes music and travel and films, he's sent me a few emails via Match.com, this, that, blah blah. Never met him, not arranged any dates, nothing like that. Cute though. Anyway, I'm sitting here drinking tea and checking my email and...he's booked one of the sofas at our local indie cinema (I was telling him how much I loved it there) to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (I'd been telling him how much I like David Fincher). No checking to see if that's okay, or even if I want to meet up! No, 'would you like to meet'. No, 'how would you feel about going for a coffee'. No...just, 'So...I just booked us one of the sofas to watch Benjamin B next Sunday afternoon. You coming? :)' Well, I like his approach. No fuckery with this one. Heh.

Okay so

There has been sleep, and lying quietly in a darkened room, since my last (somewhat flustered) posts. I have to say...okay, well. You have to understand that until fairly recently I was quite clear in my head that I was the ugly fat girl that nobody would ever go out with (um...I think we've established that that's bollocks now). So while my sense of self-esteem is about 1000% higher than it's ever been, I am still surprised sometimes. And I guess...well, he's just the type I've always really had a thing for, since I was in my teens, but because I was an idiot was always too scared to talk to. Long dark hair, very goodlooking, just...oof. It also threw into sharp relief the men I've been out with who had no idea what I was talking about half the time - he has a lot of shared cultural points of reference, and just...well he felt very familiar. It was nice. He's the same age as me to within a few weeks as well, and that is nice too. I can't quite put my finger on it.

Sorry. I should also add that as well as being mind-numbingly, giggle-makingly attractive he is also very funny and geeky and shy enough that it leads to charmingly awkward outbursts rather than clammed-up silences. Oh de-ah. Very nice

Muahaha

He just texted to say he's home and had a lovely time and would I like to go out again please?

PLEASE?

I managed to be ladylike in my response, you'll be proud to know. *fans self*
(Only just.)

Good LORD.

I mean...I've seen some cute men in my time but good god. I think I just went on a date with the type of man I had awful, heartwrenching crushes on in my teens and early twenties. It is a good job he got in his car and left or I may well have eaten him like a fucking peach. God. Pass me a towel.

The weekend update, in brief:

I went to catch a film and for dinner with the much-too-young-Iranian guy last night and we have a lovely time and a real giggle, but you know...we were discussing our musical tastes last night and I just...I just don't know. This is going to sound dreadful but he has the musical taste of a 12 year old. Nickelback? Bon Jovi? Without being ironic? I marched him out to the car and plugged my iPod in. He wasn't even sure he'd heard of the Cure - not, I hasten to add, that that was the first band I threw at him. A complete list of bands he's not sure he's heard of includes Soundgarden, Nirvana, Bloc Party, Editors...oh god, the list. I hadn't even got to any of the stuff I actually listen to. He did however tell me some of the most recent things he'd bought...they included The Script and Katy Perry. I almost - not quite, but almost - choked. Gah! It's official. He's too young.

Next!
Tonight I have a date with a very attractive Italian guy, who we shall call...for it is his initial...V. He is most attractive. He is the one who cheered when I said I'd go out for a drink with him.

Tonight I shall also be premiering...drumroll please! For your VIEWING PLEASURE:

I shall be road-testing my Real Time Trauma Ticker, via Twitter, wherein I shall endeavour to update in real time how things are going. You can check back or sign up for maximum amusement potential. I direct you to the top right hand side of the page for the link.

Tomorrow I was supposedly going to the seaside with the nice photographer type that I went to the science museum with but I've sent him an email saying look...perhaps we'll do this another time okay? If he's ill (and this sounds dreadfully selfish) I just can't go out with him, because I'll be floored and I'm scraping by on short contract work right now and can't afford to be off work. Plus, since my immunosuppression comes from a lymphatic disorder, it really fucking works me over when I get sick. Just..it'll keep won't it.

Right and on THAT note I need to go and have a bath and make myself presentable.

Send help. And a big stick.

So...it's official. I am actually emitting. I think I must be. In the last 24 hours:

- small flurry of e-mails from (new) (exceptionally cute) local fellow via Match
- incessant and REALLLY keen phonecalls and texts from the ridiculously attractive one that I tried to put off with my chubtastic gym-hating ways and failed
- actual, genuine GLEE from one particularly sweet Italian guy who asked - extremely shyly - if we could meet for coffee and then ACTUALLY CHEERED when I said yes, bless him. (I think he is slightly awed. Which is always nice. Just...SLIGHTLY. Not overdoing it.)
- Finally, and maddest of all, is the guy who sent me an email via Flickr (he had obviously been looking at my photostream via one of the groups) and who is sending increasingly saucy emails to me which is...um. Distracting? to say the least? And again...a bit odd to me since he appears (well, if it's him in his photos and I think it is) to be some sort of uber fit martial arts championship competitor.

What is going ON? Has the world gone mad? Like I said yesterday...it's like there's been a switch flicked. I think I might have to fashion some kind of stick for beating them away with soon if these keeps up...lol. It's almost as if all the boys I never dated are catching up. The last fifteen years' worth...haha.

Finally: Shiny D? Nothing. Huh.

Pass me a stick.

Spores. I'm telling you. SPORES. So...the guy I did my best to put off by emailing him and saying, look, I'm short and fat you won't like it - well. I just shrugged and gave him my number. Three times he's called me today. THREE. *blink* We were talking on the phone earlier while I was waiting to go in and see my therapist (believe me, we had some THINGS to talk about today haha) and he blurts out something disarmingly complimentary about how pretty he thinks I am or somesuch (which threw me - I didn't know quite what to say) and THEN says...look. Let's just get this straight. What dress size are yoU? I say, I'm like, a 22. He goes...Ha! That's nothing. I actually blinked so hard I could hear my eyelids make contact. Evidently chubtastic is okay. So anyway.

...LIVE ACTION UPDATE ALERT!

I actually had to stop typing then because he phoned me AGAIN. Man. Spores, I'm telling you. Or perhaps somewhere in the galaxy the switch has been flicked and suddenly fat chicks are in. Who knows. Anyway he wishes to 'get to know me better'; uh huh.

Speaking of which...Shiny D. No contact again today at all. I sense this one is a funny bugger. Oh well, we'll see eh. I'm not about to chase; I have enough to be dealing with.

W, the fella I went to the science museum with, called me earlier to see if I was okay in the snow, which was rather sweet. He is evidently quite poorly but still wants to go to the seaside at the weekend (to take photos, remember I'd said about liking seaside towns in winter?) - I've said let's check in towards the end of the week, because although it's a lovely idea, I have a compromised immune system and I really can't be doing with catching anything and then not being able to work - which sounds a bit mercenary but times is hard. Sadly though if I get a cold or anything like that, with my cockeyed lymphatic system it's goodnight Vienna for at least a week. Urgh.

Well, beauty sleep is needed. Ta ta.

Good LAWD.

Man.

I think I mentioned, a few posts ago, about the incredibly attractive guy who emailed me via Match all eager despite his profile going on and on about how sporty he is and his preference saying he wanted someone with a slim or athletic body type, didn't I? Well. I'd sent a VERY brief reply and didn't hear from him again...until (insert drum roll here) this evening, when I get this:

Hiya [insert my name here],

I am great just been busy and then done my back in with a slipped disc - just getting my left leg back, kinda lost all the feeling, but it's doing ok now.

So how are you and what you been up to this weekend, and how's your search going ? Do you have a number- I'd love to have a chat offline :)

[insert his name here] x


Well bugger me. Right...this is just silly. I don't know quite what's going on but we have the most unsuited, mismatched wants and preferences (according to our profiles) that I've EVER SEEN, and I am so tired of all the fuckery, so I sent him this:

Hey!

I'm sorry to hear about your back - what a pain! I hope you feel better soon. I hope you're okay other than that?

This weekend I've been in London visiting my best friend. There was much singing and dancing and general silliness, so that was nice. Usually though I'm out at the cinema or reviewing a gig.

I am very flattered that you've asked for my number but you know...I *might* not quite be what you're after. I notice you're rather sporty and so on and me...well, I'm built for comfort, not speed. I dance but that's about it. So you know, I just thought I'd better point out that I'm actually short and fat and the closest I get to a gym is running away from it in horror. (Sorry.)

Obviously, if you're still interested, hooray! But, you know. Honesty's always the best policy isn't it! And this whole internet dating malarkey. My god. I wish people would just tell you the truth a bit more often, it'd make life a lot easier! So there you are.

X

And...well. I give up. The answer?

Hello again and thanks for your honesty, but I'd LOVE to have a proper chat to you. At best we may like each other a lot, and at the very worst just become friends. So that isn't so bad and look - my mobile is XXXXX XXXXXX - text me if you're still up. I like you so far, so good :)

X

God. I hope he's not some kind of fitness fascist. I don't LIKE going to the gym. Haha. I mean his profile, under exercise and interests, I think he ticked EVERY SINGLE KIND OF SPORT. *facepalm* Oh well. Perhaps he likes the idea of something soft to collapse against afterwards. I mean honestly.

In other news, Shiny D wishes to repeat the experience, apparently. I told you. I'm fucking giving off SPORES or something. Juicy fat girl LOVE SPORES.

...ewwww.

A good result all round?

Well. I was in something of a huff yesterday when I posted last, as you can probably tell. I am pleased to report that moments after I posted he responded - basically saying, look, I'm still stuck in [insert tiny town name here], I know it's getting late; perhaps we should postpone. I'm really sorry. My response was to gnash my teeth and wail slightly, fling my pyjamas and toothbrush into a bag and hurtle off down the motorway to my lovely best mate's house for an evening of copious alcomahol consumption and drunking singing and bellydancing, which did make me feel considerably better. During the proceedings Shiny D (like Sunny D, but with more facial piercings) texted to ask if he could make it up to me by taking me for lunch on Sunday - today. Being of sound mind and full of Jack Daniels I somehow managed to restrain myself and didn't respond until this morning, wherein I told him I'd be in [insert large city name here] at lunchtime to buy my dad's birthday present, and he could drive and meet me there.

And, he did! I'm a bit...well, the jury's a little bit out. He was very nice. I was so geared up to be cross with him and for him to be a bit of a cock that I think I was taken aback a little by him being so thoroughly pleasant and, well, polite. I've got all the way to thirty years old and never had my chair pulled out for me in a restaurant, and actually it was rather nice. I think I was expecting lightning to strike or something, and it didn't; he was just a nice, normal looking type, very funny, nice hat. Hard to read. I can't really tell what he thought of me, to be honest. I sent him a message about an hour ago saying thank you for lunch, hope you had a nice time, and haven't heard back, but eh. Doesn't mean anything really does it.

Anyway here - have a little giggle. This is my 'love horoscope' for the week:

For the Week of Feb 2nd, 2009 -- The Moon in your emotional sign brings your feelings to the surface this weekend. If you're vulnerable and don't want others to know, you might want to avoid crowds. Time alone or with one safe and caring person can help you hone in on what you need and what has to be changed to put you on a more rewarding relationship path.

Uh huh.

In other news, you wait years for a nice man to come along and then approximately fifty take interest at once. Egads. I need to log into Match.com and respond to the six - six - NEW emails I had while I was out of town for precisely 27 hours. I mean COME ON BOYS, I'm short and fat and generally quite antisocial. Right...let's go and see what's what. If there's any exciting ones I shall report back. In the meantime, I'd like to announce that my hangover has apparently caught up with me approximately ten hours later than anticipated. It's karma, I tell you.