Damn He Looks Good in a Suit…

The morning after my first date with the Very Cheeky Englishman he is keen to line up date #2. It’s Wednesday and I have a few things on the following nights, so I suggest a date on the weekend.

He says he’ll take it, but it’s too far away and he’d like to see me before then. He asks if I’m free for lunch on the Thursday. I’m not working at the moment, so a weekday lunch date sounded good.

He asks me to meet him in his suburb outside of a hotel, for ease of meeting only but he of course makes the obligatory joke about having booked us a room.

I arrive before him and have the usual ‘will I actually remember what he looks like’ paranoia. But then he appears wearing a blue suit and aviators and he was rocking them both.

Rocking them hard. It was kind of a ‘take my breath away’ moment when I saw him. WTF. How drunk was I on our first date for me to have not noticed how hot he is?!?

He wasn’t in a suit on date 1 though. Mental note, I must think of ways to always get him to wear a suit when I see him. Always. 

He kisses me hello and suggests that we find somewhere to eat on the strip overlooking the beach and takes my hand as we walk off.

As we are walking I again notice the height difference, but I had intentionally worn flats today to suss the situation out. I think he may be 5’9″, but I’m too distracted by the suit hotness to worry about it right now…

We find a restaurant that looks nice and take a seat outside. He is being all sweet and lovely and telling me he loves my eyes and trying to hold my hand across the table. I am feeling strangely awkward for a second date, maybe because he seems so much hotter today and I find myself sitting uncomfortably, often with my arms crossed. He playfully accuses me of throwing bad body language at him, thus being ‘unromantic’ and that I date ‘like a man’, but assures me that he has enough of a romantic side to play the part for both of us.

Which sounds really naff doesn’t it?!? But he is quite a masculine man so I’m actually not put off by it.

At the end of the meal he again refuses to let me pay and we have about 30 mins before he has to head off to a meeting, so we take a walk along the path alongside the beach.

As we walk I find myself slouching a little so I don’t feel so much like a giraffe next to him. The height thing will likely become a problem soon, but for now I’m feeling quite attracted to him, so I’ll let it slide…

We eventually end up where I’ve parked my car. We have discussed the car at length (because it’s the love of my life and his current competition) and he asks to take a look at it. I know he isn’t terribly into cars and he has also told me that he thinks only drug dealers drive white sports cars, so this was obviously was just a ploy to get in the car and pash like teenagers.

But I wasn’t complaining. Once inside he takes off the aviators and I notice that his eyes are a gorgeous colour. Green outside the iris, but they seem to blend into blue on the outer rim.

When time is up and he must head off to his meeting, he tells me that he can’t wait to see me on the weekend and jumps out of the car. I watch him walk away in the rear view mirror, damn I like him in a suit…

Before I drive off he has already sent me a txt. It starts off telling me how much he likes me, but then follows on that we’ve met at the worst time as he has to go home to the UK in a few days to attend to his business there for a couple of months.

Fuck.

The Very Cheeky Englishman

Of all the dating sites that I have tried, POF is certainly the worst. I’ve looked at it a few times and have always found that most of the guys can barely string a sentence together. But my friend Ms A was using it and convinced me to give it another look in.

Scrolling through the masses of degenerates someone catches my eye and we get chatting. Mr T has nice pics, he is tall (well 6 foot), has his own business, lives in a nice area, is 40, no kids, a non-smoker, has a coherent profile. Tick, tick, tick.

We chat a little online and exchange numbers. When I call the next day, I get his voicemail and I am surprised to hear an English accent. Oh no, I wasn’t aware of this fact. I didn’t leave a message, rather I jumped straight online to check his profile again. His teeth, I need to see the teeth!! In my experience I’ve met a lot of people from the UK with bad teeth, so I usually avoid them online unless I can clearly see the teeth situation from the pics. Don’t hate me UK readers…

Fortunately he is smiling in his pics, his teeth on full display, they are all there and they are perfect. Phew….

When Mr T calls back we chat for about half an hour and it’s non-stop laughter. He is hilarious. My cheeks actually hurt from laughing when we hang up.

We arrange a date for the following night. He arrives early and txts me whilst I’m still on my way into the city asking what I want to drink so he can have it waiting for me. I tell him that I’ll get something when I get there. First rule of online dating, don’t let them roofie you too easily…

When I arrive I call him to find him as the bar is really busy and I like what I see when I get there. He is very pleasant looking and he seems to quite like me…as he tells me. A number of times. Oh stop it Mr T, no go on, no stop, no go on…

We get a bottle of wine and it disappears fast. I try to buy the second bottle, but he won’t let me claiming that he is a gentleman and that just won’t do. When he returns from the bar which I am sitting with my back to, he swiftly leans down from behind my shoulder and kisses me saying that “he just had to do that”. Ok the cynical ‘I’ve dated a lot of douchey men’ side of me thinks oh what a tosser, but the quite tiddly side of me thinks he is quite lovely…and a good kisser. #winning

The second bottle somehow disappears too and we both need to head to the bathroom (separately of course…) and as we are walking along I notice that I seem a bit taller than him. He was meant to be 6 foot, I’m 5’10”, but I was likely wearing 3 inch heels so I expected a little difference, but this is more than an inch. Whilst wondering that thought he stops me and pulls me in for another kiss. Oh he finds me irresistible. Stop it Mr T, no go on, oh whatevs…..#YOLO.

We get a third bottle of wine and my previous fuzzy thoughts about it probably being a wise idea to get some food have dissipated. Who knows where that bottle goes, but all of a sudden I’m drunk. Drunk, drunkity, drunk, drunk!

Remember how cautious I was about not getting drugged and being incapable of fending off a dodgy internet guy earlier in the night? No? Me either…

After plenty of shameless public pashing it is time to call it a night. He walks me to the cab rank, kisses me and tells me that he really doesn’t want to send me home, but he knows it’s the right thing to do being a gentleman and all. See, he does have morals! He puts me in the back of the cab and then leans into the front window and hands the cab driver cash to take me home. What the hell? How old school. Indeed a gentleman. I’m kinda digging it…

He then proceeds to send me quite dirty txt messages all the way home…..well actions speak louder than words right? ;p

On Standby for my Soulmate

Head and heart

Last week I saw posts kicking around Facebook about a new project that has been designed to find your soulmate just by answering 8 questions. Ok, I’m listening…

I clicked through and the site claims that the average person only gets acquainted with 1000 people before they die (which I think is terribly low?!) and that the odds of your soulmate being 1 in 1000 is very slim.

But through the power of the interweb, this site can increase your chances of finding this person anywhere in the world (that the survey currently covers) if they have also completed the 8 question survey.

These 8 multiple choice questions with 8 possible answers each are apparently (there is not compelling evidence of this) based on the core elements of compatability psychologically. The odds of you answering them exactly the same as someone else are  1 in 16,777,216. If you do, it means that you think exactly the same as someone else, hence they are your soulmate.

There are warnings and disclaimers all over the site. Do not take the test drunk or stoned. Do not overthink your answers. Your soulmate doesn’t necessarily mean a romantic partner, it may just be someone kinda like you. You may hate your ‘soulmate’. Your soulmate may try to extort money from you, avoid this….

Well, what could go wrong huh? I decided to take the test and I was dubious of its validity from Question 1.

I find it hard to believe that a soulmate, particularly a romantic one, should always have the same personality type at a party. Sure, you probably don’t want to be at polar extremes, but there really can only be ONE centre of attention. Also, for those that are highly competitive (ahem…) there needs to be a winner. Doesn’t there?

Surely the centre of attention could be highly compatible with the one that likes to have a really good time, no matter what?

The rest of the questions seem even more trivial. What frustrates you the most, if you had $100K how would you spend it, what would you do first if writing a novel?

But I completed the survey, popped my email address in and confirmed it when the validation email came a few days later.

Now we wait. Likely a very, very long time. At the time of this post, the site indicates that 217K surveys have been completed with 5K matches. Which seems an unusually high success rate considering the initial 1 in 16,777,216 estimate.

I’ll keep you posted….

I’ve Fallen For a Man That I Don’t Find Attractive

Who would have thought it was possible? I certainly didn’t. Sure, I’ve heard stories of it happening, but only to people with far lower standards than me ;p

I count physical attraction as one of my top 4 elements of compatability for me to be really in to someone. No, I’m not expecting the chiselled good looks of the deliciously tall Bondi Vet or the Magic Mike body of Channing Tatum (although I wouldn’t knock them back…) but I do want someone that I actually like to look at when I talk to them.

I’ve often debated this issue with people that like to tell me that I’m single because I’m ‘too picky’. I’m told to give the guy with the bad teeth or the wonky eye a go because attraction can grow.

I agree that attraction can grow. I can prove it. I don’t usually feel that attracted to guys with dark eyes, as evident by the guy that plays Mr Grey in 50 Shades doing absolutely nothing for me! But I do remember a guy I was seeing for a few months who had brown eyes that I found reasonably physically attracted to initially, but I grew to really like how intense his brown eyes were they more I grew to like him to the point that it was my favourite feature about him even though I had hardly noticed them when we met.

So I was quite fascinated by the U.S. version of Married at First Sight when in both season 1 and season 2, one of the three women matched for marriage openly admitted that they were not attracted to the guy chosen by the ‘experts’ as her ‘perfect match’ and that the guy they picked ‘did not look like my husband’.

<<<<SPOILER ALERT>>>>

I’m only halfway through season 2, but it seems that both of these women committed to the experiment and ended up getting ‘crushes’ on their husbands and becoming attracted to them the more that they got to know them. As they learnt more about the guy they realised that they actually had a lot in common and they understood why the experts had matched them. These couples seemed to end up being the matches with the strongest long term relationship potential.

Now, maybe season 2 doesn’t work out that way (I’m currently binge watching the series, so I’m sure I’ll know shortly…) but from season 1, I am quite shocked that the couple stayed together.

I completely understood the bride feeling hesitant. Her groom strangely reminded me of Gargamel from the Smurfs cartoons. He also had a number of raised bubbly moles on one side of his face, he was balding and tall but hunched over. She was gorgeous and he was practically licking her lips when he saw her…

227022_103_gargamelWhen the bride saw him she shut down, still went through with marrying him but then hyperventilating cried with her family about not feeling attracted to him and claimed that she had made the worst mistake of her life. They went on their honeymoon and she was pretty much giving him death stares the entire time and smacking his hand away if he tried to touch her.

But after they moved in together and spent more time together she started to like him – and I did too!! It really surprised both of us. I didn’t see it coming AT ALL!

Especially on my behalf. I think if I turned up to a Tinder date with that guy having seen only a pic of his good side, I potentially would have faked appendicitis and called an ambulance to escape the date.

But he had a really cheeky personality, made lots of bad jokes and he was a really sweet and genuine person. He became more and more attractive to me with each episode. I felt like I was being deceived with the producers deployed some kind of photoshopping to make him more likeable. But no, it was just me falling for him…

So, I’m confused. Does this mean I should go on a date with the most repulsive man I can find on Tinder??

My Night with the Chicken Pot Pie

Superhero Businessman French Cityscape Concept

Hellooooo! Sorry, it’s been a while I know. I have been busy and just not in the mood to write lately. But tonight I’m in the mood to rant!

I was meant to go on a date tonight with a very sexy (supposedly) French man. We met on Tinder last week and after chatting for a few days on the app, I decided to give him my number and ask him to call so I could do the voice test before moving to a face to face date.

That call actually didn’t go well. When I answered he said hello and that it was ‘Mr A’. I responded with a ‘hey how are you?’

He must have misheard that as he replied with ‘you know I’m Mr A, we were just talking on Tinder, I live in…’ like I had so many Mr A’s that I had just given my number to that there could possibly have been some confusion. Okaaaaay….

The call continued and I could hardly understand him at all. I think he said that he had been in Australia for nine years, but his accent was very heavy. It was the awkward type of conversation where after you’ve said ‘pardon’, ‘sorry’ and ‘what’ and still don’t know what he said after three attempts that you do a little giggle and move on.  We cut the call short after discussing catching up soon and I couldn’t help but think I may need subtitles on the date.

By Tuesday we’ve agreed via txt to meet up on Sunday night. By Thursday we’ve agreed the meeting place and have been chatting some more, including him sending me some pics of the view of the Vivid light festival from his apartment with him suggesting that he would invite me over, but he understands that I probably wouldn’t be keen to do that on a first date. You think?

Sunday lunchtime comes and I shoot a txt over to him to confirm that we are still on for our date that evening. He replies immediately saying yes and reconfirms the meeting details for 5:30pm. It’s all sorted.

I start to get ready about 3:30pm as I’m planning on catching the bus into the city about 4:40pm. It’s one of those days when your makeup just works and you like what you see in the mirror. I’ve started doing my hair when my phone chirps from the bedroom a little after 4pm. It’s him.

“Hi SSIS, sorry for the short notice but I have to cancel, I apologise”

WTF?!? Late notice and no elaborate excuse as to why?! I expect to see an excuse of the calibre of my grandmother died, or my dog ate a tube of superglue, or I fell down the stairs and broke my face for pulling the pin so late.

I reply “Oh…” giving him the hint that I’m expecting more than that.

He replies “I am really sorry, but I am feeling like shit and tired”.

Tired? Tired!!! Everyone is fucking tired. All the fucking time. I just reply “Ok” and leave it at that.

I finish doing my hair, but decide that a night in is in order and also that I’m in the mood to cook. I pull out my Mum’s recipe for Chicken Pot Pies and head out to the shops to grab the ingredients.

Whilst I’m out I see a crazy cool sunset with the sky all sorts of pink and orange and the pies I made were pretty damn good if I say so myself. So perhaps it wasn’t all bad that my plans changed.

Frenchie continues to try and make himself feel better by justifying his sudden ‘illness’ sending messages that he has been in bed sleeping, that he had a big night last night and is really hungover, and that he should remember that he isn’t 20 anymore.

Whatevs dude. I unmatched him on Tinder…but with a tiny pang of sadness seeing he was smokin’ hot…