Saturday 6 November 2010

Damned if I do, Damned if I don't

Nights out in Dubai are not uncommon for me; I can be found gracing some of the city's best bars every weekend, and occasionally during the week too. Sipping cocktails is a Dubai-expat's most popular hobby. We'll fill every bar, beach and boat during the weekend. After long hours at work all week, it's almost necessary to unwind with a beverage in hand at the weekend. You know what they say - work hard, play harder!

With the majority of the city's population descending upon its watering-holes on a Thursday night, you'd think it would be prime mate-hunting ground. Well, it's not. At least it's not for me. Many of my friends always score on nights out, but I find it to be a rarity these days.

However, on the odd occasion I do meet a charming young man, I struggle with what I'm actually meant to say and do. It's been drummed into me that I need to be mysterious and alluring, that I should never go home with a man on the first night I meet him, that I shouldn't wear short skirts and low-cut tops if I want to be considered girlfriend material and that I need to give them the chance to chase me, etc. None of those things are me; I wear my heart on my sleeve, I'll answer all sorts of questions, I like wearing low-cut tops, I'm easy going and if I want to have sex with a man on the first night, I will.

However, having been single (dateless in fact) for almost 18 months, I decided I might just take some of my friends' advice. But before I go on to tell you what happened when I took their advice, I'll first tell you about what usually happens when I don't take their advice...

It was a Friday night, I'd been at brunch all day and I was a little bit tipsy. I wasn't at one of Dubai's classier joints, but everyone in the club was up for a good time. Stood at the bar, trying to order a drink, I took a toke on my cigarette. As I did, a tall, handsome stranger turned to me and asked to borrow my lighter. Of course I obliged and he struck up a conversation with me. His name was Gerry, and not only was this guy cute, he was also intelligent and interesting without being a complete dick like the rest of Dubai's male population. I was hooked.

Next thing I know, the bar's lights come up and we were being thrown out. We'd been chatting for four hours. I was so into the conversation, that I'd forgotten I was wearing high-heels and that my feet were killing me. I felt like I'd know this guy for ages and I was so overwhelmed that I'd actually met a man I found attractive and intriguing.

When he asked if we could continue drinking at mine, I was a little apprehensive at first, as I didn't want to give him the wrong impression. But then I thought one little drink wouldn't hurt, and so we jumped in a cab and headed back to my place.

At mine, I made us both a drink and we sat on the sofa chatting. We must have been chatting for another three hours, because the next thing I knew, the sun was coming up. I remember thinking how much I liked the guy, something which is so rare for me these days. When he asked if he could stay over, I told him he could sleep on the sofa, but somehow, he made it into my bed. We chatted some more and ended up falling asleep, cuddled up, but without so much as a kiss. However, in the morning, that all went to pot.

I'd done so well up until that point, but I didn't stress about it as we had so much chemistry, I was sure this was the beginning of something beautiful. He took my number and made his way home whilst I snuggled up in bed feeling so very, very happy.

Needless to say, I didn't receive a call, or even as much as a text from him. I felt so disheartened; it had been such a long time since I felt that way about someone and I suddenly remembered how cruel men can really be. Seeing as I didn't have his number, I thought I'd look him up on Facebook and send him a friend request. I typed in his name and up popped his profile picture... with a woman in it. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I thought I better try and find out if he was in a relationship or not before sending him a friend request. I googled his name and, through various other social networking sites, found out he was married.

Why I was surprised, I'm not sure. As I've mentioned before, married men seem to buzz around me like bees around honey but single guys, single guys don't come within 20ft of me... It was, as Alanis Morissette would say, ironic; I'd met the man of my dreams and then seen his beautiful wife. I vowed not to take another guy home ever again.

A few weeks later, I met Steve. Steve was a silver fox that reminded me of an ex (GJ, if you're reading this, it was you). He was tall with beautiful dark brown eyes (although I usually prefer blue) and a cheeky chappy demeanour that kept me hooked. We chatted for ages, discussing everything from work to politics - it was heated, and I loved that he was so opinionated.

We moved from the bar we were in to a karaoke bar across the road. We continued our heated conversation until he ended up singing Johnny Cash songs to me. It was also here we shared a little kiss. Nothing full on, more small pecks on the lips than drunk, high school style snogging.

As we lived in the same area, we shared a taxi home. Steve was first to be dropped off, and as the taxi pulled up outside his building, he tried to persuade me to come in for a drink. I had to really resist the temptation to go up to his apartment, but I knew an innocent drink would end up being not-so-innocent sex, and so I continued my journey back to my apartment. However, despite having had a great night together and Steve inviting me up to his for "a drink", when I declined, he didn't ask for my number or when he might see me again. He was clearly a good-time guy up for whatever he could get his hands on, so to speak.

Then there was Craig, the guy I did follow my friends' advice with. I met Craig at my local, where our eyes literally met across a crowded room, and he spent the evening looking over at me. When I caught his eye, I smiled, but he didn't come over. It was only as he was about to leave that I smiled and waved and he came over to chat.

Craig worked in construction and was manly and flirty. He's definitely one of those guys you'd feel protected being with. After a few hours of flirting, I told Craig my friend and I were moving on to another bar and he immediately asked me for my number. I took it as a good sign and gave him my digits. He did text me, but only for a booty call, which obviously I declined.

After that, I bumped into Craig on a couple of occasions. He continued texting me, but never asked me out on a date. I gave up texting him back.

So, despite all my friends' advice of abstaining and playing a little bit hard-to-get, none of the scenarios proved to be fruitful. So, what is it exactly that makes a guy want to take a girl on a date? When I meet guys, I always have interesting, intelligent conversations but I always throw in a little bit of flirting too - in fact I can't help being a little flirty - but, I never let it become smutty or full of innuendo. So where am I going wrong?

What I've learnt from this is that it doesn't matter how far you go with a guy on the first night - a little flirty conversation, a kiss or hot, sweaty sex - the scenario isn't based on any of those. So, if you want to sleep with the guy you just met, why not? A friend of mine is currently dating a girl he met in a bar and slept with on the first night...

What I've concluded from all of this is that it doesn't matter what I do; I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't.