… So where were we?
Oh yes, texting after too much Vodka. Never a good idea. It seems it can get you into a lot of trouble.
I am a fairly confident person, in a social situation I mean. I can chat easily to people I do not know and integrate in a room full of people. I am not shy about offering my opinions on things and have something to say about most things. However, when it comes to flirting I can be a bit shy.
I am a subtle flirt not an overtly sexual one (in the first instance I mean) for example, a chap came to fix the door today on the surgery. The automatic doors on the front are never usually very automatic and people will keep trying to force them open, so they were broken and have been on and off for a few months now.
The crazy thing with automatic doors, especially ours, is that sometimes they work and sometimes they don’t and there is no rhyme or reason to this, that is just the way it is.
Anyway, our doors work perfectly well now thanks to the chap who came today and while I was attempting to sign my name on his machine thingy with my fingernail, as it has lost its attachable pen, he was saying something jokingly about the new lock, I was only half listening to be honest and as a half-hearted attempt to make amends for not listening to word he said, I put my hand on his arm. He looked a bit shocked to be honest and as I smiled and leaned in a bit too close I said, as long as your happy, I’m happy.
I might as well have had a sign around my neck saying… “not very young but definitely free and desperately single”
I wasn’t intentionally flirting with him but that I’m afraid, is what I am like. I’m not a sexual flirt but more a smile, bat your eyes kind of girl, a look and a gesture. It has always worked for me.
However, the trouble with a look and a gesture is that you have to be standing in front of someone to achieve results. When you are texting, a look and a gesture will not tell the bloke sitting on his sofa, watching TV, in his pants that you are thinking about him and that you want him to be on your sofa. He can’t see you smiling at your phone and grinning like an idiot while fiddling with your hair. He has no idea unless you tell him.
So that is precisely what I did from 12.20 am until 02.10 am on Saturday morning while very heavily under the influence of alcohol. M, who is 37 and from East Sussex was enjoying it a great deal and to be fair so was I, at the time.
I was a little bit more mortified later on Saturday after trawling back through some of the messages (bloody hell they were saucy) and berating myself very loudly in the bathroom mirror for being such a bloody tart.
The most shocking part of this tale is that I have agreed to meet him Wednesday for “lunch” in a Mackintosh!
I don’t even own a Mackintosh, So today I had to ask to borrow one from a friend, who obviously asked me if I was going to wear anything underneath it? My life is no longer a secret. Everyone knows what I am up to and when? They read my stories and they know what I am like, it is still a little bit weird though.
However, I cannot hide the fact that I am a little, actually make that a lot, excited. I can’t bloody wait.
Now, this is where the cynical in me comes out because lets not forget we have been here before. So far on my foray in to online dating I have been promised many a date and titillating time with many a good-looking chap and then a couple of days before the date he has disappeared into thin air.
This is apparently called ‘Ghosting’. A guy chat and flirts with you arranges to meet and then disappears off the face of the earth. It is, so I’ve been told all about the chase, the thrill, getting the girl, knowing you’ve still got it and then once you know you have you can quietly slip away and start to work on the next thrill.
The thrill of the chase. It’s what we all love but surely you need something at the end of it don’t you?
It’s all very well and good knowing that people fancy you, that they will flirt with you and agree to meet you but the reality is that when you do meet you might not like each other. Is that why they don’t follow through?
I don’t get it but then I don’t get a lot of things about online dating but we know that already.
So while I am very excited about my pending erotic encounter, I am also a little skeptical about it actually happening.
Anyway, back to Saturday and while I was sitting in the kitchen drinking gargantuan amounts of sweet tea in an effort to shift my hazy hangover I had a message from Manuel.
Manuel: “Hi, Where are we meeting today?”
Me: Oh, sorry I hadn’t heard from you in two days babe, I had kind of assumed we weren’t meeting today? Or words to that effect.
Manuel: Yes, 2 pm you said. I would still like to see you?
Me: Well, if you can get a little bit closer to me than Brighton you could probably twist my arm?
Manuel: OKay, lets meet in the middle, choose a place.
Really? Oh, FFS. I’m hung over, I’m not sure I can manage this today but manage I did and before you know it we had settle on Uckfield as a place in the middle and were meeting at a pub for lunch at the originally agreed time of 2 pm.
I moved my arse very quickly in to the shower, put a face on, jeans and a shirt and fled of to Uckfield, feeling like I would really rather go to bed.
When I saw him (and he was late) I wished I had gone to bed.
Same old story but instantly I knew it was going to be the usual, a nice lunch, probably good company/chat but no attraction for me. His profile picture was a beach shot and from a distance, so it was very hard to determine what he actually looked like apart from the fact that he was mediterranean and had a good mop of dark hair, which to be fair has been a rare find for me.
In reality he was mediterranean and did have a good mop of dark hair but he looked like he had been hit by a shovel. I don’t mean to be rude but that is I feel the best way to describe him. He had no profile. No shape at all in his face.
The pub was lovely and the food was indeed delicious, the company was okay, despite a few language issues, mostly in the humour department but the thing that did it for me was all the touchy feely stuff.
I am not very tactile. I do not like public displays of affection, stroking, I hate my hair being touched and people stroking my face, those gentle flicks, I am just not that way. Grab me by the arm and throw me up against a wall and I’m all yours but do not flick your tongue around my ear while stroking my hair it is not normal.
After dinner Manuel (aka Frank, but I prefer Manuel now), wanted to go for a stroll. Halfway in to the stroll I began to realise why. He was all over me. Not in a scary way so I felt threatened or anything but just in an obviously very intent on kissing me and being very touchy feely
At this point I am becoming a little bit unnerved. I didn’t want to offend him but I think we both had very different ideas about where this was going. We stopped by a small pond and while I stood cooing over the ducks, who clearly all thought we had come with food, he went for it. He grabbed my shoulders and started rubbing his nose against mine and moving his lips around my face like I was an ice cream cone.
Please stop! It is annoying and irritating and I don’t like it.
We are all different and we all like different things especially when it comes to foreplay, sex, even kissing and cuddling. Horses for courses. Manuel was just not my cup of tea but I will give him ten out of ten for trying and then trying again and then trying once more!
Finally we made it back to the car park and he was still trying to persuade me to kiss him ‘for ten more minutes’, I would struggle with ten seconds, nevermind minutes. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
On the drive home I was really, really, really hoping that M would turn out to be so much more my cup of tea on Wednesday. I was soooooo looking forward to a cheap thrill of my own! #returnofthemack
Please God make it happen… 😉