Thursday, 24 June 2010

Stop press!...Romance is NOT dead!!!

Okay, so before you get excited, nobody's been getting romantic with me. Obviously. But this week I have witnessed(ish) not one but TWO romantic acts. Which kind of gives you hope.  And by you, I do of course mean me. It gives ME hope.

Romantic gesture #1
I was at a concert on the weekend (very quaint in a marquee on the lawn of the village court of course). The conductor who lost his wife several years ago but now has a new partner had run the orchestra for 23 years and this was the final concert before he and his new lady move away. Half way through, the orchestra were unexpectedly handed scores to one of his partner's all-time favourite pieces of music.  While our conductor friend joked that this was to demonstrate that the orchestra sound the same sight-reading as they do practised (true in fact - I should know, I played in it for ten years!) it struck me that this man had actually written a 120-part arrangement of a piece of music his lady loves just for her. It's like the extreme version of a mix-tape. The orchestra of course massacred the piece but it's the thought that counts, right?

Romantic gesture #2
This week it was a good friend's boyfriend's birthday - his first since they've been together. So my friend emails me...
"I'm trying to decide whether to buy him cupcakes and bring them at lunch...or if that's a little crazy."
Now for me this is a no-brainer. Someone just said cupcake for goodness sake. So of course I offer mild encouragement...
"Definitely think you should get cupcakes! It's not crazy, it's EXCELLENT!!" 
Fast forward a couple of hours and I get another email which starts "So you'll get a kick out of this story..." My friend has trekked miles across town to a specific cake shop (cost - $10 cab ride), spent an age carefully selecting the cakes she thinks her boy will like best (cost - $25) and then walked four blocks just to take a bus over to his office.  My friend has to spell her boyfriend's surname about sixty-five times before the security guy eventually gets it and calls his desk. He's not there.  He tries again.  The boyfriend is still not there. So my friend explains about the birthday and the cakes and whatnot...can she leave them with security for the boyfriend to pick up whenever he comes back from wherever he is? No! It's food. You can't leave food with Security (presumably because they'll just eat it!).  Ok, well can it be delivered to his desk by the post guys? Hell no! Post guys can only deliver packages and the cakes aren't technically a package.  Finally my poor friend gives up and hot-foots it back to work (cost: $12), cakes still in hand.  

Ordinarily I'd say you can't put a price on romance but in this case...well, 47bucks!  Eeeesh...

In other acts of random gallantry...this week I watched a guy heroically fend off a killer seagull as it swooped down on his girlfriend. Okay, so the gull was mostly interested in the pasty this girl was stupid enough to be holding in plain sight (rookie mistake) but the boyfriend did still throw himself into the path of the bird.  And knocked the pasty from his girlfriend's clutches in the process! True story.

So you see, romance AND chivalry are alive and kicking.  Now, if someone would like to throw a bit of both in my general direction, that'd be lovely.

Monday, 21 June 2010

Strange Irish Boy

I’m not known for entertaining weirdos. In fact until very recently I was the go-to girl for any sticky man-related look at my disapproving face never failed to send them running for the hills.

But that was then.

Nowadays, reveling in my new found optimism and take-one-for-the-blog attitude, I find I am actually enjoying the often insane, sometimes inane and frequently deeply inappropriate conversations I keep ending up in. How else do you explain that weekend text? I knew it wasn’t going to tempt him to my place any time this century but I couldn’t resist the kick of getting a reaction.

And clearly I am not alone. Logging in to Guardian Soulmates on Monday morning I was greeted by two messages. One read:

I want that spontaneous moment where someone dares me to strip at a party and I do it.

The other read:

“I seem to have got myself into a ridiculous messaging situation with a 29 year old in Northern Ireland...very odd”

It didn’t take a genius…

I could also see that he was online so, at the risk of communicating with a man who’s wanking himself dry behind his computer screen while the good ladies of GS send him their strip stories, I decided to see where this might lead.

You mean you've never done that?

Never. Have you?

Not recently. I can't resist a challenge though.

How many times have you done it? All the way? When was the last time? Tell me all!

Why would I? I'm sitting at my desk pretending to be respectable!

Is that all I'm getting?

Well...there was an incident in a log cabin in Bavaria. That was fun.


Ski chalet?

School trip.

And that really is all you're getting. You've got to give to receive...

School trip!

What do I have to give?

You'll think of something. I have faith.

Radio silence. I’ve lost him.

Bah! FAIL.

So tell me this many women replied to the blanket email? You were emailing my best friend only last night....

HaHA! Yeah I'm starting to panic!

Well, a woman last night started telling me what she'd like to do after I strip.
Should I send it?


HaHA! Here it is!
i like the idea of an open bottle of champagne, I meet you at the door - you can have one sip - then come in, strip, will have a bath run for you - will wash you all over and then dry you off. With a towel or any other method I choose or feel free with your ideas?! What would you like to do?

Good lord. Just the one sip. She sounds strict.

What did you say to that?!

I played along. She sent more. Should I send it all?

Why the hell not! You're livening up my Monday morning that's for sure.

Ooh that sounds great!!

He then ACTUALLY sent me the word-for-word conversation he had with some poor woman. Well, I say conversation but she did all the work as she points out in a rather bewildered way in her last message (I will spare you the rest):

well when i have finished massaging you - am hoping that you have kept up! then i think i will climb on top of you and lower myself onto you and then slide up and down until i come and then .... feel free to join in - at the moment I am doing all the work!! I have to go out for 5 mins - you tell me what you are going to do to/for me!!!!

Oh!! Don’t go looking at her profile or she’ll get suspicious I’ve told you!!!!!!

She's 41 by the way. And she emailed me some pictures. I could email you them if you really wanted a look.


Well I guess it's one way to get your kicks. I on the other hand prefer to meet people in real life! Revolutionary I know.

Also, I hope you don't mind but you're probably going to be immortalised on the web. I write a dating blog.... I don't tend to mention that in my profile!

HaHA!! Will I be immortalised with a fake name?!
And the stripping thing isn't dating by the way! It's not a chat-up line!

You can be called whatever you like. I was going to go with StrangeIrishBoy. I may send you the post when I've done it.

It's been interesting.
Is there any chance we could be friends or am I just material?

*Ok she’s not really going by that name on GS but I’m not gonna tell you her real one am I?

Wednesday, 16 June 2010



On ending up in bed on a first date.
“My problem is I’m just too comfortable naked.”


“So I read this (totally true) news item about some guy in Kent who had his hands mauled off by a bear leaving him unable to contact the awesome girl he met on Saturday. Sad story...Was this you? Either way, when are we having coffee?”


"Ok so either I was too subtle or you're not up for some no strings attached hot sex. Which is it?x"


On complaining about having to sleep in a single bed at their house.
"The day you actually come home with a partner you can have a double bed."



i m Kevin man he resist one man betrayed by a kiss Pride in the Name of Love”


Well, you have to follow your heart....(or whatever it is that you follow)... does it feel to have someone come on to you, part with a passion kiss, then dump you by e-mail? Not great really...betrayal I believe is the word. I guess there's shallow too. Kinda fucks with your bearings...and what does it say about YOU that you think that it is an OK way to treat someone?

So...if you're gonna date anyone else here's my advice: pay your own way 'til you're sure you like someone...that's good for your soul (i.e. don't be a cheap bum*, well, unless you're dating a banker)...but most of ALL be careful where you show affection... people might even think that you mean it.

oh yeah...that's the last rule, before you kiss someone for kicks...ask yourself whether you actually give a shit about them. Because otherwise you might just as well punch them in the stomach. ( they won't see that coming either).

on a positive have managed to up my sure is a shallow and selfish world out there...!

Eeeshk! Too many more like that and I'm going to have to retire from this dating lark...

*please note this guy spent max £20 on me over the course of two dates.

Monday, 14 June 2010


I didn’t think there was going to be a third part to this post but events have decreed otherwise so here’s the scoop on the rest of my uber-dating week…

Some ill-advised drunk texting saw me putting in a booty call to a man I met recently. Unfortunately as he doesn’t live in London I used the pretext of inviting him to a party. There is no party.

The whole of London had World Cup Fever. Except me. I had man fever. For a change. A night on the tiles was on the cards and my favouritest ever venue – Passing Clouds - was the destination via a quick stop off at Dalston Superstore which was jam-packed with hot, stylish but very definitely gay men. So off to PC I skipped with my beloved next door neighbour and partner-in-crime hell bent on seeking out some mischief. Mischief, and a lot of whisky, duly found we were heading cab-wards around 4am when I suddenly spotted a hot guy who’d been flirting with me earlier. As I’d been in the process of flirting with someone else immediately beforehand I had decided it wasn’t seemly to flirt back (too much) but as I ran past him towards the taxi I figured I’d never see him again and planted a huge smacker on his cheek. Whereupon he grabbed my arm, spun me round and gave me the snog of my life. Seriously, the earth moved, fireworks exploded overhead, I gibbered like an idiot and somehow had the presence of mind to exchange phone numbers before weaving my way unsteadily to the waiting taxi.

Ouch. And double ouch when I remembered I had a date that afternoon with a Guardian Soulmate. I wavered and wavered but with an hour and a half to go I’m ashamed to say I cancelled, changed out of my date clothes, climbed onto the sofa with some good old Jilly Cooper and a couple of furry companions for some serious hangover time. Maybe it was Jilly's influence but my mind kept wandering back to the 4am guy. Would I ever hear from him again? Then hey presto! A text. The next thing you know he's virtually hot footing it round to mine to help 'cure' my hangover! Reason reasserted itself at the last minute and I managed to steer it towards meeting for a drink instead so it was bye bye Jilly, dogs, trackie bums and blankets and back into that date outfit for round 2!

Pleasingly he turned up. Even better he was hotter than I remembered. And best of all I got to have another go at the fireworks display. Next time I will be giving him my address...

Saturday, 12 June 2010


And at the risk of sounding like Craig David...

Tuesday's date launched a text and email assault on my diary. We had agreed Monday for the rerun but by bedtime he had somehow brought this forward to Thursday. Yes, TOMORROW. Was this dude another nutter? I thought I might as well find out sooner rather than later.

So...the following evening, accompanied by my two dogs, I meet him in my local(ish) boozer. Cue lots of slightly tortured jokes about dogging and dating three women - two of whom turned out to be right bitches. See me cringe? But he was cute, he was keen, he was paying. He was also, unfortunately, driving, which meant as I knocked back the g&ts getting steadily drunker and drunker he was on the water. He also complained from time to time of pain in his ribs. Not being naturally sympathetic I just ignored him but around about the time my face started its customary cycle through the red pantone chart he was putting on an extra jumper and starting to shiver.

Undeterred and aware that I was going to have to make the move or risk reaching THIRD DATE without so much as a peck on the lips (and frankly who has the time to invest in such fruitless dating?) I snogged his face off in the street. Poor boy (I say boy - the man's 36 for god's sake) was terrified. And frankly I was disappointed; kissing my own knee would have been more exciting. At this point the cringe-factor rocketed off the scale. I can't bring myself to relate what was said but the word 'minx' was involved and a later text message spoke of our 'fabulous kiss'. Good lord. Not from where I was standing!

The following day my poor love-sick boy texted me from his sick bed, wrapped in blankets and worried I might have caught his bug. Not helpful when I'm trying to erase all memory of the evening from my brain but at least his incapacitation gives me a few days breathing space to figure out how I wriggle out of this one!

Of course I could just send him a link to this post...

Thursday, 10 June 2010


Forget Paul McKenna, just take the first train to crazytown and shwazam! Okay, before you get excited I’m not actually thin but this dating malarkey is playing havoc with my eating skillz. As in, I don’t have any because I am racked by extreme nervous tension resulting in a state of perpetual date-related knotty belly syndrome. Last night, for example, I had dinner with a friend and despite a measly tuna sandwich being the only sustenance to have passed my lips all day, I still could not finish my meal. Unprecedented! At least if I don’t get a boyfriend out of all of this, I may lose a few pounds. ...Or just pass out.

Wednesday, 9 June 2010


From the sublime to the ridiculous, from date desert to man magnet, suddenly a slot in my diary is seriously in demand!

So, MONDAY. Speed dating. I tackled this in the same way I do everything – interviews, business trips to scary places, work - giving it absolutely no thought whatsoever until I arrive and then freaking out. I knew the organizer and arrived an hour early. BIG MISTAKE. Cue an hour shifting uncomfortably in my seat and attempting to eat a mammoth portion of chips slathered in ketchup in an enticing (not repulsive would have done) manner as wave after wave of stunning, stylishly attired ladies rolled up to be shiftily assessed by the male ‘talent’ already in situ. A sticky label with my name hastily scribbled on it marked me out as a contestant (because lets make no bones about it this was definitely a competition…unfortunately I’m not sure the prize turned up) and gave each man a legitimate opportunity to ogle my chest. There was an initial glimmer of hope in the form of a rather handsome chap but he hastily distanced himself from the whole sorry affair by loudly pronouncing himself spoken for. In fact anecdotally you are far more likely to pull at a speed dating event if you are already in a relationship as the entertainingly titled DJ Reacharound found on Monday…his girlfriend looking on in hysterics while some poor unsuspecting girl launched herself at him.

Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t terrible. It was actually quite fun at times, especially once I’d taken rather too many beers on board, but my favourite moment was when I looked down at my score sheet and realised that instead of writing the last guy's name on the sheet I had written my own. He was fairly dire...clearly I thought I would rather date myself.

Verdict: quite fun but it's essentially the worst bit of every first date over and over again. Not sure it’s really the way to meet someone. Might give it another go though just in case…

TUESDAY. Actual dating! The second attempt at my first internet date in fact. Let’s hope this one isn’t a stalker. Once again I used the old la la la fingers in the ears approach aided and abetted by a hangover and a severe sleep deficit from the speed dating the night before. I yawned my way through the day, we exchanged a few texts, both of us being totally flaky about where or when, and leaving it as 9ish, somewhere. This gave me the opportunity to head home, walk my dogs, catch an hour’s kip on the sofa (risking squashed stripy pillow face) while fending the dogs off intermittently (nothing like a dog’s tongue down your ear to get you in the mood for a hot date), then quick change, new make up and I was ready to rock by 8.30pm.

So all dressed up and no idea where we were going I powered up my laptop and started surfing Guardian Soulmates for talent (this is my usual activity when at home). 20 minutes later I texted him. He rang straight away to say he was stuck at an exhibition in Brick Lane. Slightly irritated, and stunned to find myself suggesting I come to meet him in Shoreditch (he had been meant to be coming to me!), I headed out at last.

Arriving at 9.30pm he still wasn’t there and my phone beeped ominously with what turned out to be my friend informing me she had bailed on her date for the evening. Before mine had even arrived! Still, he chose that moment to finally make his entrance and after some awkward peering at each other to establish that yes we were the right people we vowed to try and have a more successful night than my friend. At which point it all started to go with a bit more of a swing. There were some awkward moments like the mishearing of boobs instead of boots. This went on for a while…why he thought I would have been talking about my boobs I do not know but nevermind. I had also managed to squeeze us into the tiniest corner of the restaurant and what had seemed like a romantic nook swiftly became a sweating hellhole with my face steadily moving from rosy glow through beetroot mess to pulsatingly puce. Those of you who know me won’t necessarily be surprised by this but it is unfortunate on a first date. It is also something that always happens when I drink on a hangover so I should know better. And sadly the hangover let me down in more ways than one as by 11pm I was virtually incapable of stringing a sentence together and when asked what I like doing when not at work (we had talked shop a fair bit) I literally could not think of a single thing apart from drinking! How to present oneself as a rounded individual eh?

So, on the basis that neither of us was making much sense we decided to call it a night and catch up again another day. He very sweetly promised to call me and has been in touch already to arrange another date for next Monday, so now I just have to stay off the booze on Sunday. Except, you guessed it, I have a date with someone else Sunday afternoon…oh dear.

Monday, 7 June 2010

Buh-bye NOT date, hello HOT date!

Hooray, hooray, hooray! We have one actual bonafide non-shit date under our chastity belts. It went so well that in my head I am going to marry the man and move into his four-bedroom seaside house imminently. I nearly high-fived everyone in my path on the way to the tube this morning. But then I remembered that yesterday was the day for punching the air in jubilation. Sadly I was too hungover, the window of opportunity has passed and today (day 2 post-date) is the downer. It's 8.48am and I'm halfway to crazytown. Mentally. In real life I'm halfway to work. Frankly I'm not that keen on either destination.

So here beginneth the undignified insanity...Why hasn't he called?? Why? Does he not like me? (Would I blame him? Christ, I'm behaving like a deranged person) He said he'd "drop me a line" to sort out meeting up again this week...drop me a line??? Doesn't he realise that's waaaaay to non-specific a notion for my tiny brain to deal with? Of course, were I remotely capable of being reasonable I would just take the fact that he did actually indicate that there would BE another date as a positive and shut the fuck up, right? Ha! As if. So, dear blogettes, what's the form with this nowadays? Do these boys still play it cool for three whole days before getting in touch? Let's hope not. I'm fairly sure I'll have given myself an embolism obsessing about it by then...

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

You're hot; I'm insane: we should hook up!

Cupid was clearly working overtime this bank holiday weekend as the single men of London simultaneously turned on, logged in and copped off.

Or tried to.

Judging by the amorous overtures of these wannabe cassanovas I think our mothers can keep their hats firmly in the wardrobe. Here's a small selection of genuine love notes received by eligible ladies of london this weekend for your delectation...

hi darling,

arent you mighty fine in every way possible !!

dont worry i live a mere 2hrs from london and i ll be there thurs - sat also dont get TOO excited, steady .....

if you like caring genuine strong yet romantic men then you should make the effort
"because i am worth it"


Having read your profil I find you complex, pretty, interesting and a great challenge. In fact you're just real !
You don't seem to be the kind of girl who like to know people through a laptop...
So if you fancy lets make it real, a call, a catch up...and lets start building the feeling between us.



Please excuse the unsolicited intrusion, however, having read your ditty I feel we have mutual interests worthy of exploration. I would welcome the opportunity to catch up and investigate the potential 'spark' we could experience to our reciprocal pleasure.

I'm hopefully a little different to most people you're going to encounter here, so if you're unhappy with the kind of approaches you're receiving you might wish to get in touch...



i notice we are an 84% match - for each other

i wonder what that means - that we're just a couple of dicks?


3 rambling paragraphs came before this…

Anyway, thanks for reading my message. Enjoy the rest of the bank holiday weekend, have fun and take care.


PS I have to admit my name is not really Kobuta. It was just some memory of my childhood of a mug with it on I used to use in Japan. It means piglet. My real name is Robert.

Hi goldilocks. Only boys with OCD like lists. I like them. why not marmite? awesome. found some marmite cheese the other day.


Of course, the thing about Cornwall is that if you like it, you *have* to like it whatever the weather, because any visit there - no matter how short - is guaranteed rain at least once. And proper rain, too.

It's possible that this isn't your experience with the place; but then I'd be forced to conclude you're a witch, or something...

- Aakash

ps if are you a witch, or something, I wasn't being derogatory.