Adventures in Dating...or how not to:

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to share the story of Last Night with you. But first the backstory:

As you know, I tend to hang out at 103. It's a lovely eaterie within staggering distance from my house. It's a place where I can indulge in great food, with or without company. It's the sadly rare place where a single person can eat, or drink coffee and not feel like Billy No-Mate or Desperate Woman on the Pull (I am determinedly neither). During the summer, I fell into conversation with a gentleman who was witty and not-so-long divorced. We'd bump into each other there every so often. He appeared good company and I encouraged him to join the Unthank Supper Club. I was in London and so unable to go to September's do. At the October do, I was pleased to see him there. My adventures in London and with Northern Bloke meant that I've not been frequenting 103 as regularly. I gave him my mobile number and said, text me when you're having coffee and I'll join you.

Now, I abide to certain rules regarding the newly-divorced male. I am friendly, but I leave all romantic inclinations to one side. Generally speaking there's usually a pattern with them that I prefer to steer well clear of: they're either very wounded and need someone to pick up their pieces (and laundry) or they're angry and bitter and want to pick a fight. Having been through both those states myself, I figure if you're newly-divorced and living in a new city, you need a friend far more than a lover.

Yesterday, I got a text from said gentleman asking if I'd join him for dinner. I said yes. Never pass up on the opportunity for great food is my motto. I'm shallow like that. So, I rock up. The evening began well. He'd already had half a caraf of wine and ordered me a glass of Merlot. There was casual banter and I was enjoying myself. He was quite tactile, which surprised me. And I began to look at him more closely. The view was most illuminating as he drank more wine.

We were sat at the bench, in front of the windows of the deli, so we had a great view of passers by. He then began commenting on the women passing by. We both agreed that some women can't park a car for toffee, and frankly some just shouldn't be driving if their spatial awareness is so poor. But that's my bitch.

His bitch was perhaps a little more...bitchy and unkind, shall we say. He expressed very negative views on curvy women and his language was not so much bitchy, as offensive. I kept my peace. Until, a teenaged girl stood waiting for her friend. She looked very much like one of Boy's good friends (she wasn't, but very similar). And he started to drool. Don't get me wrong, I have tended to go out with older men. However, there's something really not right about a man in his late forties drooling over a woman not quite into her 20s. And there's something exceptionally not right about a man doing so, in the company of a woman, whose hair he's been trying to stroke.

I called him on it. He just shrugged and said 'it'd be different if we were an item.'

Actually, no. It wouldn't be different. In my mind, it's bad manners. But perhaps that's just me? In fact, I'm okay about it. No, I don't want my dinner companion drooling over other women in my company, because it implies I'm an 'also-ran', I am the boobie prize; even if we're just mates meeting up.


And then I got the low-down of his marriage. It didn't paint an altogether flattering picture of him. Especially, as he missed his wife's housekeeping skills. He then started to talk about his chat-up strategy in the meat market scenario. He's the sort who sits on the sidelines, watching the pretty girls waiting for them to come talk to him. Because, obviously they are telepathic and know he's interested because he's looking at them. He doesn't do any work in the scenario. And then gets bitchy when they go off with someone else. I told him I wasn't doing NLP on him for free.

I think I'd had enough when he started going on about fat guys. I said, 'I like my guys with a bit of meat on them' and swanned off for a smoke (yes, lecture later). We parted company upon my return. He didn't offer to even buy me a drink.

Boy was suitably unimpressed when I gave him the full low-down. He rightly asked 'why did you go?' Good question. I went because I am curious. I wouldn't have known, had I stayed home. I had a lovely meal, and now I know. I'm not particularly disappointed, I am slightly miffed at my loss of 2 and a half hours of my life. But that's okay. I do know that I am beginning to recognise how sexy kindness is. Had I stayed home, I'd have missed that lesson. Heck. You don't know, if you don't try. And I'm prepared to kiss a few frogs.

Memed!

The fabulous Ms Scarlet has tagged me for a meme. She wants to know what are the ingredients for my secret recipe for my perfect man. I had to leave this one and think about it all day. I finally came up with this:

1. Must not be a bright and chirpy morning person, but must not be grumpier than me. In other words, will bugger off and leave me to wake up in peace
2. Must know how to make a cup of coffee to my exact specifications. And deliver it with a smile
3. Must think pink, fluffy dressing gowns, worn with silver, woolly booties are the sexiest thing ever
4. Must like chocolates with cream centres, leaving me the nutty ones. On a similar note, must think buying olives, sun dried tomatoes and anchovies as gifts are normal
5. Must like red wine, for drinking, or cooking, or drinking with
6. If  he must have an interest in competitive sports, must adhere to strict gender role and not insist on boring me with a) the details or b) the events, either live or televised
7. He does not need an orienteering course but doesn't mind getting lost occasionally
8. Must be a more than competent driver of a vehicle that is lustworthy (and doesn't mind getting lost occasionally)
9. Will have interesting hobbies that include etchings, but not require a 3 day lecture or an instruction manual (or props). This does not include bottle cap, assembling flat pack furniture, stamp collecting or trainspotting
10. Must have a music collection that complements mine. Celine Dion fans, need not apply
11. Must not think it odd when I curl up in bed with nothing than a good book for an afternoon (delivering coffee and/or red wine a bonus)
12. Must think dirty dishes are the scourge and downfall of civilisation and it is his civic duty to keep the sink clear at all times (laundry basket, double points)
13. Most importantly, must believe that 'weird' is normal and 'normal' is weird.

I nominate:

Cyberpete
Hayward
Dave
XL

Please adjust the meme for your sexual preferences. Let me know if/when you've memed.

An addendum: should any readers meet these requirements, please apply in writing, with a recent photo, supply good references and prepare for a panel interview. Opening date May 2011. Thank you.

92 Days to Christmas

I'm a mobile at the moment. This week I've worked in Fashion Accessories, Linens and Soft Furnishings, Clearance Shop and the Christmas Shop. On Monday I did everything but the Christmas Shop and it was not a good day. Linens turned out to be an expensive way to spend 7.5 hours on a Saturday, I ended up buying new bedding for me, and I've seen new bedding for Boy as well. Ouch. The bedding is gorgeous, thick cotton sheets, chocolate with a flowery pattern. Pretty, but not overly feminine. My bed looks great. I can't wait to get into it tonight.

Today, I was in the Christmas Shop. Now, those of you who have been with me for some time, will remember I am not over-infused with the Christmas Spirit. Fa-la-la-la-la-fuck-off, is more my attitude to Christmas and today hasn't helped. Calendars, cards, cute decorations, decorative bags, candles all wanting a home by 24th December. Hello, it's not even October.

But it's not been a total loss. I've had quite an amusing day working with a guy who is incredibly sweet, and very good looking. He's all of 21 and he's got the hearts of every single teenage/twenty something girl in a twitter. They've been finding excuses to 'drop by' all day, which is ever so sweet. He's a lovely lad, but a bit unaware of it at times. He's just trying to be nice to everyone, and I suspect it's going to back fire on him big time. The girl's claws are out behind the scenes as they vie for pole position. He's not particularly looking for a relationship at the moment and should he settle down with a girl from work, there's bound to be aggro.

It's quite interesting watching this drama unfurl while straightening up plastic-wrapped cards for the umpth time, I wonder if he realises how much of a confuffle he's causing. But to be fair, it's not his fault. He's just a nice guy, with a better than average face and not enough ego to really work it.

And Finally the Winner is.....

Narcisso Rodriguez. I could bathe myself in it, it is so gorgeous. Clean and fresh fragrance, with good lasting power. It's classy and understated. Should anyone have an urge to buy me the EdP, it'll only set you back £46.00 for 50ml! Failing that the Prada tendre, comes in a close second at £40.00 for 50 ml. There is a tie for third place between JPG Classique and Boss Femme, I can't remember the prices, so never you mind.

I've really enjoyed working at the department store, and apparently they've liked having me because they've asked me to come back to do some data entry work for them in the New Year. So it's all good.

My favourite customer comments have been:

1. You will take the price tag off before you wrap that, won't you? No, showing how cheap you are, is all part of the service.
2. I can't remember what the fragrance is called, it came in a twisted, mid-green bottle with a red crown. Really?
3. I'm in a real hurry, will you be done wrapping my gift in 2 minutes? If you are in that much of a hurry, wrap it your bloody self.
4. This is the first gift I've bought. (This is at 17.55, shop closes at 18.00 on the 23rd of December). It must be so difficult to plan ahead for Christmas, after all, it only happens for one day, on the same day, once a year.

It's not because I'm just being stroppy (okay, I do admit I have no patience with people), but getting stressed with me, when I am genuinely trying to help, isn't going to improve matters; or my mood.

I've really enjoyed this first serious foray into the retail world. The department store has been a hub of social gathering, I saw more people who disappeared off my social radar in the last 9 days, than I have in the last 4 years. Including my recent 'date'. Which was quite amusing.

He is a friend of a friend, who had the mistaken view we might get on well together. To be fair, we did get on well with each other. But, one of our last communications went along the lines of:

him: I fancy you a little bit.
me: oh
him: I have some things I need to sort out with my (psycho) ex-girlfriend
me: okay

I was more miffed that he told me he only fancied me a little bit, than I was about him going back to his ex. What was funny about today was he came scuttling in, Xmas panic etched on his face along with horror that I went up to him. I was polite and helpful. He wanted a Chanel perfume, for a 'friend' of the family that he didn't like very much, but his mother told him to get it. This from a 44 year old man.

So, is it just me, or do you think that he was buying for his woman? See, because Chanel does not do cheap, relatively inexpensive or even moderately priced. And I don't see why some one would spend £50+ on a perfume for someone who wasn't well liked, mother's orders or not. I think I would have had more respect for him if he would have said "I'm buying a gift for someone" or "I'm buying a gift for my woman." Life is way to short for games like that.

Hottie arrives tomorrow. Hopefully, by the time she rocks up, I will have bought the duck, some munchies, booze and done some laundry. Hears hoping. Have a good Christmas and New Years if I don't see you before.

Prada ~ tendre EdP

This is a light, sophisticated perfume that I would personally love to bathe in. As I'm just starting out in the perfumery business I lack the proper vocabulary to describe it. I just love it, love it, love it. I give it 9.5. This is so going on my wish list.

Fragrance has 3 categories. Eau de Toilette, which is the weakest and cheapest form of the perfume; it does not tend to last as well and you can be liberal with application (depending on the scent). Eau de parfum is more concentrated and therefore you need less of it. It should, in theory last longer. Parfum is the most concentrated and most expensive scent. Apply sparingly.

My mum always used to say, a man should only be able to smell the perfume when he stands close enough to kiss you on the cheek. There are a lot of women and men upon whose forehead I would like to stamp that on. It really is not meant to be anaesthetic. Mind you, having said that, there are a lot of people who ought to get acquainted with the simple concepts of soap, water and anti-perspirant.

Today, despite my aching feet and streaming cold (thanks so much Boy), I made my way into town to have lunch with flirty Gertie and her fab mates. Nope. She still hasn't stop smiling. When they all left I had another cup of coffee and planned my attack. I went into work, squirted myself liberally with Prada and bought my cards. I then pushed my way into the throng, called into 4 shops got my pressies and wrapping paper. I have one more present to get and then I'm done. I am really pleased with myself, had it not been for my cold, I would be even happier. This evening will be spent wrapping pressies and writing cards, were it not for the cold remedy I will soon be taking, I would indulge in a bit of naughtiness to see me through. Ah well.

As I was juggling 4 carrier bags, three rolls of paper, three bags of bows and ribbons and gift tags in WHSmith, I spot my ex and his grown daughter out of the corner of my eye. Now in case I haven't mentioned him before....we were on/off for 4 years and when we finally split in February it got quite unpleasant. He queued behind me and initiated conversation. I was shaken, but not stirred. We exchanged small talk and I was sweetness itself. On the way home, I realised I was quite pleased to see him. He became a man again inside my head, rather than my arch-nemisis with hooves and a tail. It allowed me some perspective about the whole situation and reinforced the pleasure I have in my life and current situation. I can finally wish him well and let him go.

Jean-Paul Gaultier ~ Classique EdP

Lovely fragrance. Good staying power. Slightly powdery and feminine which I really, really love. Yummy. I'm giving it a 9.5. Another good day at work. I glammed up again. I could start getting used to this apart from my feet, which are killing me.

I rushed home, got changed and headed out to Gertie, for it is her birthday. We drank wine, ate munchies while we waited for her friends to come up from London. They are absolutely lovely. She has such good taste in friends. We all headed out to the Waterfront for the 80s night, which was just excellent. As a venue, it's just great. You can wear jeans and trainers, it's not a meat market, there's a good selection of music. I'm not sure why I left it 5 years to back there. Gertie got her birthday present courtesy of a couple of mates who fixed her up. I believe she's got a date Tuesday. Go Gertie. I danced like it was 1999. Smiled at a couple of guys who blanked me, smiled at a couple of guys whose girlfriends blanked me, smilled at a couple of guys whose boyfriends blanked me. At that point I thought 'perhaps there's a wider cosmic message going on here'. Then bumped into this quite nice guy who danced well, if a touch enthusiastically. Our conversation went as follows:

Him: so are you single?
Me: yes
Him: why?
Me: I'm awkward
Him: really, how awkward?
Me: very
Him: so, what do you do when you're not being awkward?
Me: I'm a student
Him: so, what are you studying?
Me: Creative Writing
Him: why are you going to university to study that? why don't you just write?

We didn't talk much after that, and he siddled off with his friends to dance enthusiastically elsewhere.

Message received loud and clear. Thanks for that great Cosmic Energy. These things are obviously not mine to have. Whilst I might feel wistful about the idea of having a relationship, my dissertation is far more important to me. My feet might need amputating at the moment and my tininitus might be playing Big Ben, but I had an excellent single time with some fabulous women. I am going to bed a happy woman.