Good grief it’s hot.
We Brits are not used to all this nice weather, the grass is slowly dying everywhere, not a bad thing as my lawn mower is dead too, so it could be worse. There is talk of a water ban as it’s been days since it rained and the water board is getting twitchy. The news is full of it’s been the hottest day on record since 1970..something and there is going to be a heat wave and everyone is moaning because they are too hot.
Remember back in Feb/Mar we had snow, we never have snow, well not like proper snow anyway, sleet is about as good as it gets usually. Summer seemed a long way off then but Summer is definitely here now. We moaned about the snow and now we are moaning about the sun. We are British, this is what we do.
The air conditioning is broken at work. People seemed surprised by this, I don’t know why, the air conditioning is always broken every year by the time Summer arrives. Ever since I have worked at the surgery it has only ever worked in the Winter. This week we have had an army of engineers in trying to fix it. All day roaming about and it was still broken when they left. They will come back they say, yeah right. See you in October then.
It has been a long week. The end of which seemed to take forever to get here, luckily I had a half day Friday as I was lunching with my bestie. She has just celebrated her special birthday and so it was my treat for lunch.
It was the perfect end to the week, lunch was in a very lovely, family run, Italian restaurant in town, bliss. More carbs than a woman of my height can reasonably expect to hide and enough alcohol to ease me comfortably in to the weekend, along with a good old chat and gossip. There are not many things in life that come as enjoyable as this.
I had a date this week but it really wasn’t much to write home about they are becoming increasingly similar. We meet, we chat, all seems to OK, we get on as well as you can expect for a first date, the conversation is average mostly made up of small talk, there are a few laughs thrown in for good measure but there is no spark.
I have been trying to recall how many dates I have been on now and it is a fair few. Twenty-ish maybe? I am very bored with dating. I am especially bored with all the dates being exactly the same.
Maybe it’s the pub thing? Everyone wants to just meet in a pub, for a drink, no one wants to suggest doing anything out of the ordinary because everyone is so worried that the person who turns up wont be like the person on the profile or if history is anything to go by they just wont like you but so what if you don’t fancy each other, it happens, it doesn’t mean you wont have a good time.
Maybe it is a money thing? To some extent I get that because if you go on a lot of dates it can become expensive. However, meeting in a park for an ice cream could be relatively cheap and as an added bonus can be as friendly or as unfriendly ( 😉 ) as you want it to be, it could also be a bit more fun than sitting a very quiet pub on a Wednesday evening trying to make one drink last an hour.
The weather is soooo bloody lovely at the moment who wouldn’t want to have a stroll round the park, getting to know each other, before lying on the grass and licking the nuts off a cornetto?
Just me then!
My tour of every gastro pub between Kent and East Sussex really is becoming as dull as dishwater. I haven’t even sampled any of the delights I have seen and smelt and I have been in some lovely pubs, as eating is completely forbidden on a first date. I’m kind off happy not to eat, as it does prolongs things, especially if you are not particularly gelling and talking while eating is not the easiest or the most attractive thing in the world to do but it is just becoming very dull.
We meet, we drink, we chat, we go home.
I just need a break I suppose, I am so sick of hearing myself say the same things, I don’t think I would date me now.
Besides I might have to leave the dating and move on to prostitution soon, as I am trying to find a short break for me and kids during the Summer holidays. I wasn’t thinking of going far just a few days on the beach somewhere, a cottage or an apartment, as I am not a massive fan of hotels.
I did mention camping to Elsie, she is still not talking to me. I don’t think I could cope with it anyway. Elsie screaming in my ear every time she hears a noise, sees something with more than two legs or jumps at her own shadow is not what I consider a holiday. I wish I could show you a video of what she like if a fly enters the house. It is hilarious. Frustrating but hilarious. Outdoorsy, she is not.
Tom on the other hand could live surrounded by flies and his own waste, by that I mean rubbish, dirty laundry etc, not poo (or at least I hope not) and not bat an eyelid, until it starts affecting his gaming then he might notice that flies have replaced his wallpaper and he has a penicillin farm under his bed.
So, if I can find a reasonably priced rental for a few days that would be ideal, although reasonably priced when you have left it three weeks until the holidays start and just the fact that it is the school holidays means everything is twice the price, is unlikely but I will not give up… yet.
This morning as usual I have been online as I write, it is distracting and it can take me a long while to both reply to messages and to get this blog written up.
I have had a few interesting chats this morning though, one went like this:
Him: Now you are definitely a bit of me!
Me: Likewise. If we are purely basing this on looks?
Him: I’m just dipping my toes in babe, I’m not looking to date.
Oh, I do apologise for responding to your message, next time I will just ignore you.
Me: Then why did you message me?
Him: You looked at my profile.
Me: Yes I did. You caught my eye, you are very handsome. I am looking for someone to date though. Strange I know. Maybe you just want to dip something and I’m not convinced it is your toes?
Him: Are you being naughty?
Holy Mary Mother of God, is it me? Someone please tell me what the F*** is going on in this attempt at a conversation!
Me: No. I am trying to have a conversation. You messaged me, I responded, that is generally how it works. I like the look of you *trying to hold of on the sarcasm at this point you like the look of me and so we chat, do we?
Him: Like I said babe, I’m not really looking to date at the moment.
Well, might I suggest in the nicest possible way babe, that you stop fucking messaging people then!
Me: I haven’t got anything sorry, at a complete loss for words. (I didn’t send that, what is the point)
I didn’t send anything at all. I fail to understand what the hell that was all about.
On the plus side I have had a couple of very normal conversations this morning. One is a long-standing chat with a guy I have been messaging for quite a while. I don’t think he wants to meet me, we just chat every now and then. I asked him to meet me once a while back and he said he had plans or something came up at work, I can’t remember but I won’t ask him again. The ball is firmly in his court now and while I am polite and happy to respond to his messages I can’t really see it going anywhere and eventually he or I will just get bored.
The other interesting conversation was with a picture less profile. I looked at his profile first, I was intrigued by the photo it is a miserable, grey, desolate looking picture of some town or other, it looks Eastern European and very bleak. Pure nosiness on my part. The second thing I noticed is that he is a chef. My most favourite thing in the world. I don’t know why. I am not even a great foodie, in fact I would be a chef’s worst nightmare as a diner but I just always fancied dating a chef but then I fancy a lot of things.
He messaged me. I was pleased he messaged even though I have no idea what this guy looks like.
It is dangerous messaging people when you don’t know what they look like. Your mind has a really bad habit of turning them in to your perfect guy. The other danger is that they always turn out to be the ones who, at least mentally, probably are your perfect guy and this is going to be no exception.
He is quite nice to talk to. He seems a bit cautious, I’m not sure if that is me in over analyse mode but he seemed very matter of fact at first. However, once we got going the conversation was good. Stimulating as conversations should be. I am going to get sucked in, I know that, you know that.
However, I am going with it. I can’t be so shallow as to not engage because I do not know what he looks like but there is a part of me that is screaming out to know what he looks like because if he is fugly I will be bloody gutted, especially if he is on the same wavelength as me. I know it’s shallow but we all talk about this attraction thing and it has to be there, on every level. In exactly the same way as if it were physical and there was nothing else I wouldn’t be interested, I want the whole package. She says stamping her feet.
An hour later he was as hot as the midday sun in my head. Help!
Here is what I discovered, he is not a chef, he lied. Why, because he likes food and loves to cook and being a design engineer is not quite as exciting, apparently. He likes live music, enjoys his local pubs, where there is often a band playing (yes he did invite me to see one), he travels a lot for work hence the photo and today he is off to London town with friends for a meal and to see a show. He eats scallops often, I have never even tried one, they just look chewy and horrible to me but each to their own. He is apparently a serial joker although I have yet to see that come out, and describes himself as Marmite. Well, we are all Marmite. One man’s meat and all that.
I will now spend the rest of the day building a magnificent picture of him in my head. By the time I have finished he will be a mixture of every hot guy imaginable with an IQ to match. Yep, that impossible to find combination that really does only exist in your dreams.
Right, I’m off to sit in the sun and doze off in to that dream… it’s going to be a hot one!