O&C Date

Since my flatmate was going to be showing my room this evening (part of the "I want to live on my own but I still need a flatmate" situation that drives me crazy), I'd made plans to be out, so it worked out well that I had plans for the evening to meet the silly boy on my home turf, the O&C.

I'd said we'd decide on Monday when to meet up, but I absolutely just forgot to get in touch, hence I found a text from him first thing in the morning saying, "Purple girl, should we not have set a time by now? Oy. Comes down to this I guess: head straight after work, or go home and clean up first."

How funny, that he'd remembered I'd been dressed up in purple for Saturday's party. So I texted him back that of course I'd prefer to see him right after work, as I was sure he'd look fine however he turned up. To which I got the response: "Looks like I have an interesting day ahead. 8pm...bene?

Found it kind of amusing that he was using Italian when I don't speak the language, but luckily a quick search through Google translate found me the right word: "Perfetto." To which I got back, "Grazi, un giorno dificile, este notte ho bisogno bibita."

Okay, that's a bit more Italian than I actually speak! Although given my background in Spanish, I could pick up the gist of it, which is that after a difficult day, he would be looking forward to a drink.

My flatmate has asked if I could clear out by 6 pm when people were coming to see the flat however, so I left early, and went to the library of the club to see if they had anything interesting. Indeed, I was surprised when there was a copy of the new Phillippa Gregory book, "The White Queen", and so I picked that up and settled down in a big chair in the North Library for a bit. It also gave me a chance to pop a bit more Sudafed, as I was taking about three times the recommended dose in an effort to not sniffle and sneeze throughout our dinner. I know, probably not the wisest move in the world, but it was such an awful time to be sick!

Finally, it got to about 7:30 so I texted him in Spanish (I don't speak Italian, after all!) that I was at the club, and that he should come find me in the bar when he got there. To which I got the reply of: "Non problema, parlo un poquino spangol. Sono in tassi." Ummm....I'm going to assume that means he's coming soon...

I made my way down to the bar, where a large group of members was all gathered around, apparently all having their pre-dinner drinks before heading in to eat. I made my way around to the edge to get a glass of wine whilst I waited for the silly boy, and found myself standing next to an older chap waiting to get drinks at the bar as well. As I stood there, he gave his drink order to the bartender and then insisted that he be allowed to buy me a drink as well as reward for my patience whilst waiting. I protested that he didn't have to, but he insisted, so I gave in and allowed him to get me a glass of white wine. Despite my embarrassment at having random men buy me drinks for no reason, it was a nice confirmation of what I'd felt when I went out, that I was looking particularly attractive this evening. Hence, I saluted the gentleman with my glass of wine, pleased in the reassurance that I was looking quite nice. Got quite a few smiles from the bartender as well, which was a nice further confirmation of my good looks. Great ego boost when you're about to meet a guy for a date.

I was pleased to find that my favourite table in the bar was free, so I sat there and continued to read my book whilst I waited. The majority of the group in the bar moved on to dinner, and so I was sitting in a relatively quiet bar for a bit when the phone at the bar rang, and the bartender called out my name. I was so surprised, as the phone at the bar has never been for me! Yet when I got up to make my way towards the bar, the bartender simply assured me, "Your guest is coming up now."

Okay, so no idea why the silly boy didn't just come straight to the bar like I'd told him to, but so it goes. Indeed, he arrived shortly, and instead of sitting for a drink like I'd assumed we would, he suggested that we go straight in for dinner. So we went in for dinner, where luckily the staff managed to arrange a table for us on the fly, and it just took me a subtle glance at the waiter to let him know, "I'm the member, give me the menu with the prices." One of the reasons I'd wanted to come here, as this is MY place, and where I'm the one in charge.

We ordered our meals, and I made sure to get us a half-carafe of white wine for the starter, and a full carafe of red claret for the main. The sommelier automatically had the silly boy try the wine, which I thought was a bit odd (given that I'm the one who ordered) but I didn't really mind, as I will admit with my cold I was probably not going to do a great job of tasting anyway.

I'd wondered if I might have to tell the silly boy to pour the wine (as I love Sophie's rule, that a girl should never pour her own wine when there are men present to do it for her!), and indeed when both our glasses were nearly empty and he was making no moves towards pouring any more, I gently asked, "Would you mind pouring more wine, my dear?" and he startled to realise, "Oh, there's more wine!" He apparently hadn't noticed the extra remaining in the half-carafe, so perhaps we'll let that one slide, as I didn't have to make any more subtle hints throughout the rest of dinner. And when the bought him a finger bowl with his artichoke starter, he didn't attempt to drink out of it (like that chap at the grouse dinner!), but just rinsed his fingers in it like he should. So I suppose he's got decent manners, at least...

We actually had a really lovely dinner and dessert, with good conversation and chat the entire time. I enjoyed how much I was able to relax and enjoy his company, as I was just settling into a lovely time at the club. I did stress a bit at the end, as I tried to think of a way to pay the bill without him noticing, and so we lingered as I hoped the line at the cash desk might diminish and I could slip over to pay quickly. Yet it never seemed to quite be empty, so in the end there was nothing left to do except send him into the bar with instructions to get me another glass of claret, and I just waited around to pay the bill myself. I'm guessing he probably figured out what I was up to, but didn't protest. Indeed, when the bill came up, I winced as it was £79, quite a bit more than I'm used to paying (all that wine!) However, I'd invited him out, and it was my club, so it seemed like the right thing to do. Also maybe demonstrate to him that this is how dating works, where one person treats the other?

Once I had the bill sorted, I went into the bar and found that he'd gotten me a glass of claret, and himself a whiskey, so I suggested that we head up to the roof terrace to enjoy the night sky. Although it was a cool evening, it was still fine to be out, and we got ourselves a nice seat on a bench where I could snuggle up to him and casually lay a hand on his thigh. I know it's such a silly thing, but sometimes it's so ridiculously easy to seduce a man. Because I knew that he wouldn't be able to think about anything other than my hand on his thigh, and indeed it didn't take him long to turn his head towards me and snog me.

Yet, much to my frustration, he couldn't seem to forget that there were a few older chaps at the other end of the terrace smoking cigars, and so didn't want to do much with them still there, his kisses were quite restrained. He chuckled at me, saying, "I like where your head is at, but unfortunately we've still got a bit of an audience" (although the men in question certainly weren't giving us any notice!) In an attempt to hopefully get him a bit more distracted, I crossed my legs and artfully let my skirt slip so that he got a glimpse of the garters at the tops of my stockings.

It was really funny, as I could actually audibly hear him gulp, and then whisper in my ear, "Could we possibly go somewhere a bit more private?"

Okay, so not quite what I wanted, but at least it was nice to know I was having the desired effect. After a bit more murmured chat, he asked if I would come back with him to his place. After a bit of clarified negotiation (I wanted him to realise that the action would be stopping short, as I'm not THAT kind of girl), I finally thought I'd go for it. Because I was having fun, I wanted to play around, and actually as I'd been getting dressed that evening I thought my lingerie was so lovely, I'd actually been thinking it was a pity that nobody would get to see it that night. So perhaps, here was a chance to show off after all.

We grabbed a cab back to his (£20 from the club), and made our way into his place. A one-bedroom bachelor pad, nothing special but nothing terrible either, with a kitchen that looked rarely ever used. I asked for some water, and after obliging me he surprisingly quickly steered me into the bedroom. Okay, not much for advance seduction, but oh well...

So we started messing around a bit (and I was disappointed that he didn't seem to appreciate the lingerie nearly as much as I did), and it's hard to explain what happened next. Maybe it was because I was so hopped up on cold meds. Maybe it was because he'd had too much to drink. Maybe it's because it was a school night, he was nervous, or a thousand other things were going wrong. Maybe he was just having a particularly "off-night". But....I suddenly felt like I was at a GP appointment, being poked and prodded in the most un-sexy way imaginable. I couldn't even quite figure out what to tell him to do, because it was like everything he did was, "Ouch! Nope, more to the left, more to the right, no, no, not there either....what on earth are you DOING down there?"

I don't think I'm that hard to work with (many men have had amazing success playing my body like a beautiful instrument), but things weren't going too well from my end. Fortunately for him, at least, the same issues didn't seem to apply, as just as I was still trying to figure out something that might work for me, he gave a little moan. And with cautious disappointment I asked, "Is it over already?" Yup, it was over.

Okay, so that was kind of a let-down, but now we can cuddle, right? Cuddling is always nice.

So you can imagine my confusion when he got up, put on shorts and a t-shirt, and went to brush his teeth. He was getting dressed now? What was going on?

And then he came back to bed, climbed in, turned his back to me, and went to sleep without a further word. Not even touching me in the slightest. Not exactly what you would call very romantic, right? It really seemed one stop short of just asking me to go home, as while he wasn't kicking me out of his bed, he wasn't exactly making me feel super-welcome either. I seriously thought about calling a cab and just going home right then, except I figured it would be about £40 and I had no idea where I was.

I did think about waking him up to ask the address of the place to give the cab company, he started snoring. Snoring!! This evening was going from bad to worse, in the most comical way possible. All of those cold meds and alcohol were catching up to me as well, so I was just wired and lying awake, with no chance of getting any sleep.

Although it felt like I stayed awake all night long (damn those cold meds!) eventually I must have drifted off, for at some point I was roused when I felt him move beside me and check the time on his phone. "Almost time to get up?" I asked. "Almost", he replied.

Then he got up, went to the bathroom, and came back to bed. Okay, since he's awake already, it's almost time to get up, and I'm still naked in bed, perhaps NOW we can cuddle?

Nope. Turns out he needs to answer more e-mails from work and wants to try to get a bit more sleep, and he's not feeling well. So at this point I'm kind of wondering if I must look completely hideous, with mascara smeared all over my face or something like that. Therefore, I get up and go to the bathroom, where I'm surprised by the image that looks back at me.

Far from looking hideous, I look....dare I say it...damn sexy? Not a single smudge on the mascara (well done!), the hair is actually in very good shape, with a toussled, sexy, loose waves look going for it, and even stark naked, the body looks quite nice, with curves in all of the right places. Okay, so I'm a big heavier than I'd like to be, but I've actually lost a bunch of weight recently. So what is wrong with this guy?

Anyway, at this point I'd had enough, so while he was playing on his computer in the living room, I went and got dressed. Did he pick up on how awkward and stiff and seething with barely contained fury I was? Hard to know, but upon seeing me dressed he exclaimed, "I know what I'll do! I should go get my dry-cleaning, as I'm never around when they're actually open, and then I can walk you to the Tube station." I'm gathering at this point that he's going to be late for work, probably due to his hangover. I'd been drinking water all night long and kept offering it to him, so I was in fine shape other than being exceedingly ticked off.

So he walks me out of the building, his arms full of laundry, and shows me to the bus stop where I can pick up the bus to Liverpool Street. And then he kisses me and says he'll call me....soonish. SOONISH??? Argh. As though I weren't already annoyed enough...

I rode the bus, and then rode the Tube back to my place, where I was grateful to be able to stumble into my flat and strip down to take a shower. A night of no sleep and those cold meds finally wearing off was definitely catching up to me. So I got ready to take a shower, when I noticed the strangest thing on my neck. A dark purple mark, where I remembered the silly boy had been sucking on my neck the previous night....was that a HICKEY???

Oh my gosh, this made me laugh, as it just seemed so childish and high school. So of course I had to text the silly boy to tell him, to which he replied, "Hmm...c'e scandolo!"

Ugh, what a miserable night, but at least I was laughing by the end!