As some of you may know, I have recently been catapulted back into the dating game. It’s been a long time since I’ve been part of a courtship. Too long, actually.
I’ve been a member of a dating website in Dubai for almost a year now, but it had never proven to be fruitful. I found the guys to be either too sleazy or unable to communicate properly, and I certainly had no interest in meeting any of them. Then, out of the blue, a couple of decent guys popped up. Firstly, there was a very good looking guy in his forties, who I began exchanging messages with. He was refreshingly open and honest and his smile blew me away. Then there was the Dutch finance manager, who I engaged in some online conversation with. I found his brooding looks and well written messages very attractive. Both the guy in his forties, Mr. S.P., and the Dutch guy, Mr. P.C, asked me out. This is what happened:
My first date was with Mr. S.P. We’d arranged to meet up at a date-safe venue for dinner and a few drinks. Nothing fancy, but still quite nice. I was so nervous but very excited to meet Mr. S.P. We’d chatted online and over the phone a lot and seemed to get on well, so I was fairly certain conversation wouldn’t run dry.
As I waited outside the restaurant for Mr. S.P., I wondered if I'd recognise him and if I would still fancy him. The second I saw him, I instantly knew it was him. He looked exactly like he did in his photos. But, for some reason, I didn't feel that thunderbolt. We greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek, and Mr. S.P. complimented my outfit – a tight black and green belted dress, accompanied by killer black heels. As we walked into the restaurant, I told myself to give this a chance, that everything was exactly as I expected and that the butterflies would come eventually.
We sat down for dinner, and I instantly felt at ease in Mr. S.P's presence. He asked so many questions that, by the end of the evening, I felt he knew my whole life story and more. But, despite getting on so well, the zsa zsa zsu, as Carrie Bradshaw would call it, was still missing.
At the end of the evening, when Mr. S.P asked if I would want to see him again, I answered positively and told him that I would. Even if the the zsa zsa zsu never came, at least I had given it my best shot and it placed me firmly back on the dating scene. He dropped me home, despite living at the other end of town, and we parted with a double-cheek kiss. Ok, it hadn't been the most fantastic first date I had ever had, but Mr. S.P was a gentleman and very easy to get along with and I looked forward to seeing him again...
My second date was with Mr. P.C and, for some reason, I had higher hopes of there being more chemistry than there was with Mr.S.P. I'm not sure what made me think that, perhaps I had calmed the pre-date nerves having been on a date with Mr. S.P earlier in the week. Perhaps it was because Mr. P.C was closer in age. Whatever it was, I was really looking forward to meeting him.
We met in a bar which is local to both of us. It's fancy, without being pretentious, and has a great view. An ideal place for a first date. But, unfortunately, the place bears little or no significance when it comes to the success of a date. Whilst Mr. P.C and I were in an ideal setting, for the majority of the date, I felt like I was chatting to a fifteen year old boy who happened to have a responsible job.
Mr. P.C was the polar opposite of Mr. S.P. He was shy, not very forthcoming, barely asked me a single question, let me take the lead and had a lack of enthusiasm. Great, I was dating two extremes! And the chemistry I thought was going to make me melt was non-existent. Mr. P.C's lack of drive ambition and curiosity was a turn off for me. Up until nine months ago, he had been living with his parents in a small town in The Netherlands. Having not lived with my parents since I was 18, this was something I found a bit tragic. No matter how cool your mum and dad are.
As I jabbered away and asked Mr. P.C a number of questions, which were followed by single-syllable answers, my mind wondered back to Mr. S.P. I had really enjoyed his company a few days earlier, despite him being a little forward occasionally, but it was better than being sat across a table from someone who had very little zest for life.
I cut my date with Mr. P.C. short. When we parted ways, I gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him for the pleasant evening. By the look on his face, I think he was expecting more of a snog than I peck on the cheek, but I just didn't fancy him enough and so I wandered off home.
After two dates, little chemistry and no snogging, I began to think that riding the proverbial horse wasn't as fun as I thought it might have been. Having only been in short relationships with friends or friends of friends, I'd forgotten what a chore going out on dates can be. However, being the trooper that I am, I decided I plough on through. Besides, I'd already committed to another date with Mr. S.P and didn't want to let him down. I'll let you know how that went in my next post...
Saturday 25 June 2011
Thursday 9 June 2011
London Lover
He’s been my on/off lover for almost eight years and, whilst we’ve never been boyfriend and girlfriend as such, I find my feelings for J are stronger than they have been for any man I’ve been involved with. I can’t bear to not have him in my life, not matter how difficult he makes it for me.
Having not heard from J for almost five months, I’d almost resigned myself to the fact that he and I are best off apart. I don’t want to wait around for him and he has his own life and family now. But on a recent trip back home, I couldn’t help myself and ended up trying to contact him one last time.
I’d lost my original UK number that J had saved, so I had to text him from my new one, which he didn’t have. I knew the curiosity of not knowing who the message was from would be too much for him and that he’d reply… he did. Within five minutes. I’d been calling and texting him for five months without a response and now he can reply in five minutes!
Our texts went back and forth until I finally told him it was me. Cue the barrage of texts explaining why he couldn’t reply to me in the past and how hard it had been for him to not reply. He then goes on to tell me sex with me is the best he’s ever had and always will be. If you knew J, you’d have been touched by that too.
An hour later, J called me. He told me how he’d missed me and how much he wanted to see me, even if it would only be for an hour. I caved in and agreed to meet him the next day….
In the past, I’d have always made my way to his house in Shepherd’s Bush but that’s no longer possible, so we arranged to meet at a train station in London. I didn’t like the fact I’d have to meet him somewhere else. I missed walking past my old flat, down his street and through his gate. I missed the anticipation of him opening the door and seeing that gorgeous smile. I missed him grabbing me as soon as I walked in and giving me a passionate kiss. It just wasn’t the same.
I still had butterflies before meeting J. I always do. He’s one of only two men that have ever made me feel that way. He picked me up from the station and the second I got into the car with him, I melted. I’d been angry with him the entire past five months and now I was putty in his hands. He looked gorgeous and all I could think of was planting my lips on his, but I wasn’t going to make that move this time.
We drove away from the station to a quiet park. It was a beautiful, sunny bank holiday Monday in London. It was so peaceful, and fluffy white clouds sailed through the perfect blue sky in the gentle breeze. We got out of the car and went for a walk, but we’d barely taken twenty steps before J grabbed me and gave me a kiss.
Nothing had changed. The chemistry between us was, undeniably, still there. Next thing I knew, we were traipsing through the woods to find a secluded spot. Pinned up against a tree, completely out of sight from passersby, we kissed more passionately. I knew what was going to happen. I’d been unsure earlier, but had prepared anyway, but now it was inevitable.
J’s hand made its way up my leg, over my thigh to my derriere. He was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t wearing any underwear and it made our rendezvous smoother, given the location. J unzipped the front of my dress and put his mouth to my breasts. Nobody could do to me what J was doing. After more than seven years of sleeping together, he knew my body like the back of his hand. He knew how to make me melt and he used it.
All of my feelings for J resurfaced, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I knew it was dangerous territory but I couldn’t control myself. His kisses made me so weak. We had sex against the tree, and I held onto J so tightly. I never wanted to let him go. It was an amazing encounter and one I will never forget.
Afterwards, we went for a few drinks at a pub. For the first time in a long time, we spent time together where we weren’t fucking like animals. We talked, and for the first time since he told me he was having a baby, I saw things clearly. We both laid our cards on the table. We were a couple in love with far too many barriers to overcome to make it work.
J had matured greatly since having his son. He’d become the guy I’d move back to the UK for. The guy I could finally be honest with. It’d taken us over seven years to get there, but we’d made it. It’s just a shame there are too many obstacles in the way to make it happen. But that doesn’t stop me loving him. Or hoping that one day it might work out, despite knowing, in my hearts of hearts, that it never will.
We parted on a good note and J promised to keep in touch with me more regularly. Not because I asked him to, but because he wanted to. I wanted to cry when he left the pub. I’d missed him so much and the few hours we had spent together were so amazing. But, I was happy that we’d kissed and made up. Literally.
Since I’ve been back in Dubai, J has kept his word and been in contact with me. And for the first time ever, he was the one to arrange a Skype date. But now I’m wondering what I want from this relationship. Are we friends with occasional benefits or are we something more? Is this the ‘happy ever after’ fairytale every girl dreams of or is it going to be a complete mess?
I’ve been considering moving back to the UK for J, but my life in Dubai is pretty good, I’d hate to uproot myself and then two weeks later find out it’s not going to work. It’s taken so long for us to get this far, I’m not sure I can wait another 7 years to find out if it’s going to work for us. I guess all I can do is wait and see. I’m not putting my life on hold for J, but if there’s progress, I’ll definitely go with the flow…
Having not heard from J for almost five months, I’d almost resigned myself to the fact that he and I are best off apart. I don’t want to wait around for him and he has his own life and family now. But on a recent trip back home, I couldn’t help myself and ended up trying to contact him one last time.
I’d lost my original UK number that J had saved, so I had to text him from my new one, which he didn’t have. I knew the curiosity of not knowing who the message was from would be too much for him and that he’d reply… he did. Within five minutes. I’d been calling and texting him for five months without a response and now he can reply in five minutes!
Our texts went back and forth until I finally told him it was me. Cue the barrage of texts explaining why he couldn’t reply to me in the past and how hard it had been for him to not reply. He then goes on to tell me sex with me is the best he’s ever had and always will be. If you knew J, you’d have been touched by that too.
An hour later, J called me. He told me how he’d missed me and how much he wanted to see me, even if it would only be for an hour. I caved in and agreed to meet him the next day….
In the past, I’d have always made my way to his house in Shepherd’s Bush but that’s no longer possible, so we arranged to meet at a train station in London. I didn’t like the fact I’d have to meet him somewhere else. I missed walking past my old flat, down his street and through his gate. I missed the anticipation of him opening the door and seeing that gorgeous smile. I missed him grabbing me as soon as I walked in and giving me a passionate kiss. It just wasn’t the same.
I still had butterflies before meeting J. I always do. He’s one of only two men that have ever made me feel that way. He picked me up from the station and the second I got into the car with him, I melted. I’d been angry with him the entire past five months and now I was putty in his hands. He looked gorgeous and all I could think of was planting my lips on his, but I wasn’t going to make that move this time.
We drove away from the station to a quiet park. It was a beautiful, sunny bank holiday Monday in London. It was so peaceful, and fluffy white clouds sailed through the perfect blue sky in the gentle breeze. We got out of the car and went for a walk, but we’d barely taken twenty steps before J grabbed me and gave me a kiss.
Nothing had changed. The chemistry between us was, undeniably, still there. Next thing I knew, we were traipsing through the woods to find a secluded spot. Pinned up against a tree, completely out of sight from passersby, we kissed more passionately. I knew what was going to happen. I’d been unsure earlier, but had prepared anyway, but now it was inevitable.
J’s hand made its way up my leg, over my thigh to my derriere. He was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t wearing any underwear and it made our rendezvous smoother, given the location. J unzipped the front of my dress and put his mouth to my breasts. Nobody could do to me what J was doing. After more than seven years of sleeping together, he knew my body like the back of his hand. He knew how to make me melt and he used it.
All of my feelings for J resurfaced, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I knew it was dangerous territory but I couldn’t control myself. His kisses made me so weak. We had sex against the tree, and I held onto J so tightly. I never wanted to let him go. It was an amazing encounter and one I will never forget.
Afterwards, we went for a few drinks at a pub. For the first time in a long time, we spent time together where we weren’t fucking like animals. We talked, and for the first time since he told me he was having a baby, I saw things clearly. We both laid our cards on the table. We were a couple in love with far too many barriers to overcome to make it work.
J had matured greatly since having his son. He’d become the guy I’d move back to the UK for. The guy I could finally be honest with. It’d taken us over seven years to get there, but we’d made it. It’s just a shame there are too many obstacles in the way to make it happen. But that doesn’t stop me loving him. Or hoping that one day it might work out, despite knowing, in my hearts of hearts, that it never will.
We parted on a good note and J promised to keep in touch with me more regularly. Not because I asked him to, but because he wanted to. I wanted to cry when he left the pub. I’d missed him so much and the few hours we had spent together were so amazing. But, I was happy that we’d kissed and made up. Literally.
Since I’ve been back in Dubai, J has kept his word and been in contact with me. And for the first time ever, he was the one to arrange a Skype date. But now I’m wondering what I want from this relationship. Are we friends with occasional benefits or are we something more? Is this the ‘happy ever after’ fairytale every girl dreams of or is it going to be a complete mess?
I’ve been considering moving back to the UK for J, but my life in Dubai is pretty good, I’d hate to uproot myself and then two weeks later find out it’s not going to work. It’s taken so long for us to get this far, I’m not sure I can wait another 7 years to find out if it’s going to work for us. I guess all I can do is wait and see. I’m not putting my life on hold for J, but if there’s progress, I’ll definitely go with the flow…
Thursday 2 June 2011
I am beautiful no matter what they say...
Having been living in the desert for over five years, I’m well aware that this blog can get me into hot water, but I don’t know anyone crazy enough to report me. Most people have commented how much they enjoy reading about my escapades, and a few have mentioned they live vicariously through me. Some of the guys I’ve written about haven’t been too pleased about my blogging, but they know if they reported me, they’d be dragged down too. After all, they’re just as guilty as I am.
So, all in all, there was never a reason for me to make my blog private. Those who didn’t like what I was writing just did not continue to read it. Or so I thought. But there’s always one person who scrutinises every last detail in I write, nit-picking for faults or wrongdoings, so that it can be used against me.
Ordinarily, I don’t care what others think of me. I live my life by the rule that if I don’t want people gossiping about my actions, I don’t do it. That’s not to say I’m necessarily proud of all of my actions, but nor am I remorseful. I do what I do because I follow my heart. It may occasionally be selfish, but I’m no saint. If I lived my life thinking about every person my actions could possibly affect, I’d lock myself away in my room for eternity.
I do, however, believe in treating my friends and family with respect. I’d never do something to intentionally hurt them, but I also wouldn’t tell them everyone in the world will look out for them either. There are threats and opportunities everywhere in life, the world is not a perfect place. I’m not condoning inconsiderate behaviour, I’m just pointing out that it’s inevitable not to encounter it.
Which is why, after a recent blog post, I found it somewhat strange that, two girls I knew, found my actions so awful, they thought it was necessary to verbally and physically attack me. Despite them not being connected to any party mentioned in my blog, they were up in arms about what I’d done. I’d have respected their opinion had they not lashed out with a tirade of abuse, but their juvenile behaviour made me quickly realise it was not me who needed to grow up, as they had told me, it was them.
The abuse I received from these two girls had absolutely no affect on my feelings towards the situation they were so upset about, but it did change my attitude towards them. But it wasn’t the abuse that led me to decide to no longer pursue a friendship with these girls, after all, we can all get angry occasionally and say something we don’t mean. What changed my mind about these two were their lies... They insisted that all of my friends thought I was "utterly disgusting" and that none of them "had a good word to say" about me. I was then told that all of my “friends” were too gutless to tell me so.
WOAH!! Hold your horses, ladies! It’s one thing to insult me but to insult my friends? That’s just too far! When I quizzed my real friends about what they thought about me, and what I’d done, not one of them used the term “utterly disgusting”. In fact, they used nothing of the sort. Instead, I was told the exact opposite. Ok, they didn’t think I’d made the best decision (neither do I), but they did tell me they loved me regardless of any mistakes I made. Which is exactly why they’re my real friends.
The girls who had abused me made out that they were being my real friends and, therefore, had to take their advice. When I said I wouldn’t be, they became rude and aggressive. Not the sign of a true friend…
I’m not sure what their obsession with my personal life is. I can understand being nosey and wanting to know the gossip, but to try to control my actions and demean me is not sane behaviour. I’m not sure what’s going through their heads to make them think they have the moral high-ground, particularly as I’ve seen these two act far worse than I have in the past. It seems it’s easy for them to criticise other people’s behaviour, yet they struggle to look inward and rectify their own misdemeanours. Not that I ever judged them for being unable to do so.
Since all of this has happened, I’ve now erased these two girls from my life, and it feels as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I’m not dragged down, caught in unnecessary drama or feel the need to constantly explain myself and my actions to others. I’ve received a few messages from them since, but I didn’t read them. I don’t see the need, and am quite happy to live my life without these two. If they don’t like me, they don’t need to contact me, I’m more than happy for them to stay away.
So, despite these girls trying to bring me down, I’m still standing. As I’ve said before, my blog is not about what people want to hear, it’s about my personal experiences. Feel free to offer advice, but don’t attack me if I don’t take it…
So, all in all, there was never a reason for me to make my blog private. Those who didn’t like what I was writing just did not continue to read it. Or so I thought. But there’s always one person who scrutinises every last detail in I write, nit-picking for faults or wrongdoings, so that it can be used against me.
Ordinarily, I don’t care what others think of me. I live my life by the rule that if I don’t want people gossiping about my actions, I don’t do it. That’s not to say I’m necessarily proud of all of my actions, but nor am I remorseful. I do what I do because I follow my heart. It may occasionally be selfish, but I’m no saint. If I lived my life thinking about every person my actions could possibly affect, I’d lock myself away in my room for eternity.
I do, however, believe in treating my friends and family with respect. I’d never do something to intentionally hurt them, but I also wouldn’t tell them everyone in the world will look out for them either. There are threats and opportunities everywhere in life, the world is not a perfect place. I’m not condoning inconsiderate behaviour, I’m just pointing out that it’s inevitable not to encounter it.
Which is why, after a recent blog post, I found it somewhat strange that, two girls I knew, found my actions so awful, they thought it was necessary to verbally and physically attack me. Despite them not being connected to any party mentioned in my blog, they were up in arms about what I’d done. I’d have respected their opinion had they not lashed out with a tirade of abuse, but their juvenile behaviour made me quickly realise it was not me who needed to grow up, as they had told me, it was them.
The abuse I received from these two girls had absolutely no affect on my feelings towards the situation they were so upset about, but it did change my attitude towards them. But it wasn’t the abuse that led me to decide to no longer pursue a friendship with these girls, after all, we can all get angry occasionally and say something we don’t mean. What changed my mind about these two were their lies... They insisted that all of my friends thought I was "utterly disgusting" and that none of them "had a good word to say" about me. I was then told that all of my “friends” were too gutless to tell me so.
WOAH!! Hold your horses, ladies! It’s one thing to insult me but to insult my friends? That’s just too far! When I quizzed my real friends about what they thought about me, and what I’d done, not one of them used the term “utterly disgusting”. In fact, they used nothing of the sort. Instead, I was told the exact opposite. Ok, they didn’t think I’d made the best decision (neither do I), but they did tell me they loved me regardless of any mistakes I made. Which is exactly why they’re my real friends.
The girls who had abused me made out that they were being my real friends and, therefore, had to take their advice. When I said I wouldn’t be, they became rude and aggressive. Not the sign of a true friend…
I’m not sure what their obsession with my personal life is. I can understand being nosey and wanting to know the gossip, but to try to control my actions and demean me is not sane behaviour. I’m not sure what’s going through their heads to make them think they have the moral high-ground, particularly as I’ve seen these two act far worse than I have in the past. It seems it’s easy for them to criticise other people’s behaviour, yet they struggle to look inward and rectify their own misdemeanours. Not that I ever judged them for being unable to do so.
Since all of this has happened, I’ve now erased these two girls from my life, and it feels as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I’m not dragged down, caught in unnecessary drama or feel the need to constantly explain myself and my actions to others. I’ve received a few messages from them since, but I didn’t read them. I don’t see the need, and am quite happy to live my life without these two. If they don’t like me, they don’t need to contact me, I’m more than happy for them to stay away.
So, despite these girls trying to bring me down, I’m still standing. As I’ve said before, my blog is not about what people want to hear, it’s about my personal experiences. Feel free to offer advice, but don’t attack me if I don’t take it…
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