A little wobble.

Last night I had a phone date, and it was brilliant. For 43 minutes we sat and chatted, and Bd squeaked his plastic rhino (at least I know the guy loves dogs!) The conversation flowed, to some slightly weird places, but it had the desired effect. There was no time to ponder answers, as you can with texts; we just chatted away and now we both feel confident that if we had a date we would at least have fun.

Then we hung up.

And it was back to the waiting game. Whose job was it to contact first. I had made the phone call, so shouldn’t he be the one to contact me first? Or was he waiting for me to text? Would we both not contact each other cause we were waiting for the other one too?

And this is where I wobbled.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to be back here. Back analysis everything, worrying about everything… “what it meant that it had taken him 2 hours to reply to a text… but he’s put on a kiss so that’s good…. Should I send back a kiss… or is that too keen… but then I like him….why not up the ante and put two….don’t be silly far too soon, no kisses play hard to get….I can’t reply yet it’s only been 5 minutes…message sent, he’s responded straight away…. Is that too keen…”

I decided sod it, and I contacted him first. He responded saying he had enjoyed talking to me, would like to keep in contact, perhaps meet in person… but that he doesn’t know exactly what he wants as he himself is just out of a long relationship and so wanted to give me the heads up so he’s not stringing me along.

Second wobble.

Whereas I appreciate this guys honesty, and know I am in no rush myself to jump into anything new. The thought of him being hesitant made me hesitant and my wobble grew.

I don’t want to be back here. I had done the dating thing. I was ready to settle and start that next stage of my life.

And now I am back here, but I am battered and bruised. I no longer trust myself to know who the one is and who isn’t, who’s worth fighting for and who isn’t.

It makes me want to bury my head in the sand and go back.

Advertisements

A step in the right direction.

I am in a very good place right now. I spent Valentines weekend alone with only Bd and Poppy for company, and the crappy Tv and long walks (and cuddles, there were so many cuddles) really gave me some time to think and work through some stuff.

I spent an entire weekend just focused on me. I had lovely food (which is something I don’t often treat myself to while the budget is still tight), a few glasses of wine and a lovely long semi-relaxing bubble bath; which would have been more relaxing had Bd not spent the entire time worrying I was either going to drown or put him into the bath. I do love that dog so much!

However, the best bit of news was me realising that I am ready to start dating again. My motivation has changed and it is no longer about proving to everyone I have moved on, or even a desperate hope to find someone. It is just something I will do when I find someone who I want to get to know better. If it goes somewhere great, if it doesn’t well it doesn’t.

And this new outlook had me a little excited.

I have a few dates coming up and I am really looking forward to them, in a way I wasn’t with the previous dates I have been on. Tonight, I have a phone date with a guy and I have to admit that it was the only thing on my mind this morning when I was walking Bd. In the past (as much as I try to stay very much in the moment) my mind wanders on walks and I end up thinking about things, “how could he lie, should I still see Bd, when did it all turn to b*llocks…” but on todays walk I couldn’t help but think about tonights phone date, “will we get on, what is his accent like, will it go well, could this be the start of the next chapter…”

Although it may not sound like much, day dreaming about a future that doesn’t involve him turning up and saying letting me go was the biggest mistake of his life is actually huge. Having butterflies about tonights phone call, well that’s pretty awesome!

Just to be clear, I have not been stood up OK!!

It’s happened again, and it some aspects it is even more maddening than a really bad date…

Tonight I was supposed to be going on a first date. We have been chatting for a couple of months on and off, and had finally found a gap in both our schedules where we could meet. It has been in the diary for weeks and the suddenly the week of the date he has vanished.

At first I wasn’t particularly concerned about his lack of a response. One of the attractions was he had his own life and so we chatted when we could. Going  few days hearing nothing was perfectly normal.

But tonight is date night and so far he has ignored both the texts I have sent him this week. So my assumption is the date is off, which to be fair I am not going to be crying myself to sleep over. Yes, it would have been nice to meet him but I wasn’t planning long term. In fact I’m not seeing long term with anyone on my radar at the moment. In fact I am far more excited than I should be about my new tonight plans, which include chicken fajitas, red wine (and here is the worrying bit) a bit of hoovering and maybe a load of washing (I have no idea when that happened to me!)

However, the thing that annoys me is this is the second bloke who has vanished without a trace as ‘D day’ has arrived. Is it too much to send a text saying “I’m sorry but I met someone” or “I’ve been hit by a bus so can’t make tonight, rain check?”

 

 

 

A bad date

Three weeks. That’s how long I had been looking forward to it, Three whole weeks. From the moment I knew he was willing to travel to meet me in my home town and go out for dinner I knew.

For newer readers (I like to think there are some of you) I am a massive foodie. I love cooking new things and I adore eating out. However, with the new house, a tight budget, friends all saving like crazy and no ‘other half’ to treat me I can count on one hand the number of times I have been out to eat over the last 12 months. In fact, I am not fully convinced that my willingness to attempt online dating wasn’t fueled by the idea of lots of lovely restaurants, and meals out hopefully with him picking up the bill (after all I hope chivalry isn’t dead!)

I hadn’t been to this particular restaurant for a while. I had popped in for drinks to the bar bit, but not ventured into the restaurant.

I had decided within minutes what I wanted to order “prawn and chorizo salad for starters, confit belly pork with leeks and mash and a cider jus for main with a delicious looking chocolate orange pudding for desert”.

I asked him if we were doing starters. He said he would prefer to just do mains. Gutted I said goodbye to the prawns and chorizo (two of my favourite things). The waitress came and we placed our order.

5 minutes later the waitress returned to apologies. They had run out of his order and asked if he would like to see the menu again. He refused and said he just wouldn’t eat anything.

8 minutes later they came back to see if he had changed his mind. He hadn’t. They asked me what I wanted to do and I told them “It’s fine just cancel it all”.

I should have thought sod him and just ordered. But I worried too much what he would think, how it would look…and I think a little bit of me was in shock, who comes out for a ‘first’ dinner date comments he’s had nothing since breakfast and then doesn’t eat?!!

20 minutes in and the conversation had dried up. I looked around for help but the serving staff were giving us a wide burst. Understandable really after all who comes into a restaurant and then refuses to order food?!

30 minutes in and the only thing keeping me there was the notion that the date should at the very least last longer than his journey to come and meet me.

An hour in and I was wishing his pint away (seriously, an hour to drink one pint). I had supped my drink well over 40 minutes ago, and as the waitress was giving me a wide birth, I was amusing myself crunching on ice.

An hour and 10 minutes in I was starving. I had decided the guy was a definite no go and had decided ‘sod it’ I will just order food. Then it dawned on me the kitchen was closed.

An hour 15 minutes in he started mentioning how hungry he was, and how much he was looking forward to getting a takeaway when he got home. (It is here that I deserve an award for not telling him exactly what I thought about him!)

An hour and 30 minutes in, having spent the last 15 minutes tell me how hungry he was, he sighed and I told him if he was tired I was happy to end the date and let him get off. You have never seen me put my coat on so fast.

I let him walk me to the car, thanked him for making the effort to come and meet me and hightailed it to the nearest Chinese.

 

Yearning

I had a bad date last night, and it didn’t have the desired effect. I had hoped that by dating a few people my heart would yearn for Edward and I would know… this guy who was so right on paper was right for me; and that it wasn’t that I didn’t fancy him, and could see me getting board of him within the month that was stopping me from committing but fear holding me back. The bad date made me yearn alright…but it wasn’t for Edward.

All it did was make me miss the ex. I missed how easy the conversation was even in the early days, how he would look at me and I would feel my ovaries skip a beat or how when we were together the rest of the world slipped away.

It made me look back wistfully over our time together and yet again resent him for giving up too easily and moving on too fast.

I ended the evening upset and missing him; well the guy I thought he was.

Introducing Edward

Now I am going to start this post by pointing out I am a little poorly, sick, dead dying and this post is been written through a haze of lemsip, cough medicines and hallsoothers. If there are grammatical errors, or it just doesn’t make any sense… well I guess you won’t really notice a difference! 

I’ve met someone. Well I have sort of met someone… come on this is me, you didn’t expect it to be a straight forward story did you?

Edward has been in my life since Christmas day. He contacted me and I was having a ‘what’s the worse that can happen’ moment and so responded without looking at his online profile. I didn’t expect it to go anywhere. I didn’t expect him to be any different to the tens of other men who I have met online, and who after a little standard back and forth vanishes never to be heard from again.

Only he is.

From a few messages in it became obvious that there was something special about him. I found myself opening up to him in a way I have never opened up to anyone. We talk all day, every day. I look forward to hearing from him, and when I can’t text him there is a little part of me desperate to get back to my phone to see if I have heard from him.

We had our first date last week.

Leading up to the date we had both been very realistic. We both admitted that despite how well we got on, there had to be some sort of spark, an attraction. For the first time in years I had excited butterflies when I stepped out of the car to meet him… and then all my dreams came crashing down around me.

He didn’t look like his photo. There wasn’t a spark.

To be completely honest, I am gutted. I think he would be good for me. I think we will be good together. But this lack of a physical spark has me worried. Am I settling, if I over look the fact there is no physical attraction but go for a great guy? Or for once do I decide that looks aren’t important and go for someone who seems unlikely to hurt me but always wonder what if?

He seems pretty ‘on it’ and has a couple of times asked if we would be better suited as friends, but I don’t want to put him into that box just yet. However, I can’t help but wonder if I am holding off on the inevitable?!

We are going to have a second date. I haven’t made any decisions yet. But I do wish, for once, I could have caught a break and I could have just felt….something!

First Date

Well I did it. I’m officially heading out on my first online date, and I don’t think I could have picked a bigger idiot. Last night he changed his mind and decided he didn’t think meeting up was a good idea.

For some reason I decided to persuade him otherwise and so I’m currently sat, freezing cold, on a train on the way to… Well God alone knows!

I suppose I can’t fully blame him for me being cold. With him blowing hot and cold I decided not to look into train or bus time tables. So unable to find the right bus stop I gave up and headed to the train station where I spent 30 minutes sat in the cold waiting for a delayed train.

I think I have butterflies, but I don’t really know. There is a feeling in the pit of my stomach and I don’t know what it is, fear, apprehension, a little excitement. Although I’m scared for there to be too much, I’m scared to get hurt again.

I don’t fully know what I’m doing here. I feel like a failure for not being able to meet someone the traditional way. Do I honestly want to meet someone yet? I don’t know. My opinions on being alone change more often than I change my socks. One day I feel alone isn’t so bad, I’ll survive a life alone. Next day and you can find me close to tears because I just want someone special.

I feel this is a ramble, at least it’s killed the best part of a train journey where I’ve forgotten my book and iPod.

Trains pulling into the station now, so here I go. Wish me luck!

Dog Poo confessions

This is a long over due post, which I originally got the idea for whilst commenting on the lovely Pamela’s Something Wagging blog. (Yes, go and visit but not until you have finished here. You have to share the love!)

Now if I was a little more organised I would now be linking to the post which inspired this confession, but I’m not so just accept that it was brilliant (most all of her posts are!) and cut me a little slack because I’m single-handedly rebuilding a house after the man of my dreams kicked me out (FYI, there is no limit on how long I can use that as an excuse for being rubbish!!)

Anyway….

There is no easy way to say this so I am just going to put it out there……

I suck at picking up dog poo.

Yep, I’ll say it again, I suck at picking up dog poo. Now I don’t suck as in I don’t do it. That would make me irresponsible and (in my opinion) a bit of a pregnant goldfish. More I pick it up 99.99999999% of the time but more often than not I will end up covered in the stuff. I don’t know how, and I really can’t explain why but the more I pick up the worse I get! I have taken to removing jewellery, bracelets, my coat before picking up, which always causes some confusion as this means I spend a good few minutes trying to figure out which hand I am going to use to! (We’ve all done that right? RIGHT??)

I then put bag on hand and pull the handles up my arm as far as they will go to make a sort of sleeve. Then I search the area to see if there are any stray bits on any long bits of grass (they will both only poo in long grass) and I go for it. For some unknown reason I seem to have a 50:50 success rate. If I have managed to scoop the poop I will congratulate myself and be in a good mood for the rest of the day. However if I have failed usually I will then start scanning around for something that I can wipe my hand/arm/face on.  (please note, it has never actually been my face, I’m using artistic licence!)

That leads nicely to my first confession.

I was a teenager and Mity was only a few years oldand I decided that taking my dog for a walk would be a perfect first date (cheap). The date started off well enough and everything was going fine until Mity decided that he needed to do a number 2. I was a little embarrassed but kept my cool. I pulled out the poo bag, walked over to the poo…. and completely misjudged the bag angle and ended up with far more than I would have liked on my hand! I tried to wipe it off on the grass near me, but it didn’t all come off. By this time I had taken a while ‘scooping the poop’ and I was worried I would start to look weird and so I walked back to him, subtly changed sides so that he wouldn’t have to hold the ‘poo hand’ and we resumed our walk.

I spent the rest of the walk trying to remove the poo from my hand. This included (but was not limited to) me wiping my hand on any tree, bush, tall pile of grass, stone wall or anything else with an abrassive surface we walked past. When that failed I had  brain wave, and whilst walking past a puddle I dropped to my knee to ‘tie’ my tied shoe and tried to wash my hand in the puddle. It worked. The poo came off…. and was replaced immediately with brown mud which I got onto my hand while drying my hand (because it would have looked weird had I had a wet hand you understand) on some nearby grass!

My second confession.

It was before work and I had taken BD for a walk. Again the poo picking hadn’t gone to plan and so after wiping on some grass nearby when I got home I washed my hand and arm in copious amounts of soap and water. Everything was going fine, until someone bought cake into the office.

The cake was lovely, it was carrot cake but without the minging nuts and plenty of topping. I was enjoying it, and just polishing off my slightly large slice, in fact I was just licking my fingers which I had managed to get covered in icing, when I looked at my hands. My heart stopped because there around the edge of my nails, just slightly under the corner was a brown smear.

I have to admit I felt sick. I also have to admit that the first thing I did was sniff it a couple of times to see what the hell it was.

Of course it turned out to be cake (i don’t know if I would have shared this it hadn’t been!) but for a split second I was panicked!!

So what about you? Do you have any dog poo confessions? Surely I’m not the only one that these things happen to…. promise I’m not the only  one these things happen to!

Friday Night is Date Night

Yep you read that right. It is Friday night. I do have a date.

Tonight I am going for a drink and game of pool with the pregnant goldfish that I have been talking via text for a few weeks.

To begin with I was pretty keen. I couldn’t help but get carried away with the idea of a guy with a wicked sense of humour who seemed interested in me and wanted children and marriage (yes I did blatantly come out and ask him that about 3 messages in) and wondered what he would look like in a trunks when we went away on our summer holiday together. I knew it was too soon for anything serious (and again have told him this) but he appears to have a good sense of humour, doesnt’ scare easily (the kids/marriage/I’ve got a counselor bombshells haven’t yet sent him running for the hills) and is an expert pool player and so I accepted the date thinking I should have a laugh and hopefully come away with a new life skill. Yes, I am now assessing which men I will date based on what new life skill I can get from them! (I think it’s genius)

However, this week he’s been hanging around with his mates and the texts I have received from him have completely dried up “when he’s had a better offer”. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a bunny boiler, let’s spend no time apart and report to me every second of every day that we are not in each others presence kind of girlfriend, but I do like to be thought about when we are not together and I appreciate the occasional ‘thinking of you’ kinda text. I know that the reason this bugs me is partly to do with the ex, if he was out with the boys I didn’t get a message. It wasn’t a problem, I didn’t need a text or assume because he wasn’t texting me he was screwing something else. But when I’ve had a drink I will sneak into the loo and whilst peeing send a quick, “love you, miss you” text (over-sharing?) before carrying on with my night – is it too much for them to do the same? The fact that he hasn’t contacted me when having a ‘better offer’ when we are not even dating has made me wary and so I have very mixed feelings about tonight.

I no longer imagine a drunken kiss after an evening of fun. In fact partly due to my cold, but partly cause I’m now feeling a bit blah I have decided to drive and save myself some money so there will be no drunken anything, and if he comes a drunken ass like the other time I met him…well let’s just say he won’t even last the date.

I’m not completely writing him off just yet. I have pre-planned what to wear down to the very last item and I am giving myself about 3 hours to get ready and pull off the ‘this old stuff, I just threw it on’ look. But let’s just say I will be shaving my under arms but I’m not going to waste time and effort on shaving my legs!!