The Dangers of Frustration

In the morning I was a bit late in getting to the club for squash, because I got stuck talking to some random guys from the club online. I've been trying to do my best to promote the Rotational Dinner next week (8 men's tickets still to be sold), although I do worry about how my incredible sociability is being perceived. After all, here are all of these men, being invited out to dinner by me, and I can start to understand why they might think my interest in them is more than just friendly.

Still, it was not good to get off to a late start, as I was supposed to play squash with Sophie at 11, go to Sweedy's birthday in Hampstead at 2, then go to rugby at 4, and be back at the club for a dinner at 7. Given that at some point I was going to need to shower and do my hair properly, the day was running on a tight schedule.

I was 10 minutes late for squash with Sophie, although we had a good game. I beat her handily, although I'm not sure if I'm getting better or she just isn't trying as hard. Definitely need to try and get in some games with some better players, as I feel like I'm not being challenged quite enough by Sophie. Yet, I think some of it at least is because she's a bit frustrated and distracted by the fact that Witty Windsor Boy still refuses to have sex with her, despite sleeping over all the time (as he'd done the night before). So being so sexually frustrated, her mind wasn't exactly on the game.

After the game she was supposed to meet the Witty Windsor Boy, who was sitting in a cafe across the street, since we were late wrapping up our game. I came over, intending just to say hello, but when I got talking to them, they insisted that I sit down and join them. Realising that my tight afternoon schedule was now going to completely to pot, I gave in and sat down with them.

Witty Windsor Boy was in a grumpy mood, as after staying over at Sophie's and not getting much sleep, the South African had failed to show up for their squash game in the morning. (Was anybody surprised by that? The South African had been in quite the state the night before!) As well, things apparently had not been going well at work, as he'd completely bombed his first management meeting with a poorly functioning Excel spreadsheet.

We started talking a bit about his work and what he was trying to do...and I realised that what he needed help with was exactly what I do for a living. It was kind of funny, as I got a chance to explain my job to Sophie through illustrating to Witty Windsor Boy how I could help him. I told him to send me some dummy data and I would mock up a spreadsheet for him, and he got very excited and in a much better mood. As a result he paid for our coffees, and was in a much better mood by the end of the hour, for which Sophie mouthed to me, "thank you." Funny how doing things for the boys of your friends can actually be a favour to your friends themselves!

I then went home to shower and change, and was surprised when my phone rang as I got off the train. It was the Tall South African! Even better, he was in London! He told me that he was about to go grab some drinks in Leicester Square, and after we talked a bit about lame girls who had been messing with him when he asked them out, he said, "If you can turn the shower and change thing around quickly, maybe you could come join me?" I promised him I would call once I was ready to go.

I managed to get properly ready to go out in 45 minutes, which I think is pretty damn impressive. I called him, and he told me to come to Leicester Square, and meet him at the All Bar One. The trains seemed to just work completely in my favour, and after hopping out at Picadilly Circus, I made the entire journey in just about 30 minutes.

The reason we were at this All Bar One is that he'd some time back made friends with one of the waitresses, who when I arrived and joined him, turned out to be paying a lot of attention to him. I had to laugh, as he'd told me about this girl, who often makes sure he's taken care of with free drinks and things, all just by flirting with her. It sure works out well for him...

She got me a glass of white wine while he finished up is beer, and we got to talking about playing squash (he's taken it up recently as well, and we had an interesting time talking about playing people and being competitive). We got to talking about playing with Sophie, which I explained was fun even though I often beat her, because it was always fun to gossip with her as well.

I mentioned something about Sophie and Witty Windsor Boy and how he wasn't really Sophie's boyfriend because it was a temporary thing and he was so young. Which suddenly made him ask, "Wait, how old are YOU?"

I thought for a moment about lying. Thinking about how many years I could reasonably shave off of my age. And then I realised that our relationship has no future, and I'm wasting too much time on the Tall South African as it is. So I might as well properly torpedo this thing, and told him the truth of my real age.

Now, I know that I look MUCH younger than I am. (Thank genetics, being able to get a full eight hours of sleep every night, or I don't know what, but most people are shocked when they learn how old I am). The Tall South African was no exception, who practically had his jaw on the floor when I told him. He then sputtered, "Well do you know how old I am?"

I just replied calmly, "You're 23."

And maybe that was it. The so obvious demonstration that I knew about our age difference and just didn't care. And so, after sort of shaking his head, we dropped that subject and moved on...

The conversation took a more interesting turn as he talked about his ex, who he dated for three years although they were in different countries most of the time. (Lotte had already told me about this girl, so I did have some background on the story here). Apparently she had cheated on him (actually carrying on an entirely separate relationship the entire time they were dating), at which point he started cheating on her as well, and the whole thing got very messy when he finally broke up with her. He still seemed frustrated about how he still tried to help her out with things, but she just didn't seem to have the motivation to take advantage of the opportunities presented to her, and continued to simply blame him for her lack of success in life. I definitely got the impression that he definitely goes for the girls who have quite a bit of drama, although I suppose that it makes him feel needed, the guy who can listen and try to fix things.

Still, the messy break-up definitely seems to have messed with his head a bit. He was telling me about how he'd be having sex with a girl, think of his ex, and then mid-act, kick the girl out. Out of his bed and out of his house. He said to me, "Lotte really saw me at my lowest of my low. And she still stayed friends with me." Yeah, I have to admit, I can't imagine doing that to someone. I mean, that's practically sociopathic, to use someone like that...

As well, he told me stories about getting a blow-job from a girl in the middle of a crowded night club, and saying that he found it intriguing and wanted to get to know the kind of girl who would "have the self-confidence to do that". I laughed, because it was so obvious to me that any sort of girl who would do that would have absolutely no self-esteem and absolutely no sense of self-worth. Indeed, when he did get to know her, he found that she was constantly telling him, "I can't believe that someone as good-looking as you would sleep with someone like me" and just constantly putting herself down. And now he found that he found himself constantly caught up in her low sense of self-worth, wanting to be the good guy who built her up a bit, but she really was just tremendously insecure. As I listened to this story, I just had to shake my head and think, "You couldn't see this one coming?" I guess there really is a huge age gap between us, as experience tells me that all the warning signs were there, but he was still surprised.

As I joked however about how men liked me because I had a big chest, he shook his head and said, "What I find attractive about you is not your boobs, but your self-confidence." Kind of a relief to have him admit that he was still attracted to me, and then what a thing to say. To recognise that our attraction is not based on looks, but it's a more fundamental chemical thing. I've joked before that he likes me because he's never met a girl with an ego as big as his own, but I think there's a certain degree of truth to that.

And then he explained not sleeping with me: As we sat there, eyes locked, slightly tipsy from the wine but the chemistry between us all too obvious, and the air practically crackling with electricity, he said to me, "Five minutes of pleasure, and all of this goes away. Is it worth it?"

Damn him. He's right.

I hate it, but he's absolutely correct on this one. The teasing, the flirting, the playful banter...it all works because it's based on the tension, the longing, the desires left wanting unfulfilled. And so, as much as it pained me, it made me agree to the limits we were placing on our relationship. It's not what I really want, but then again, if I always got what I really wanted, I'd have pizza and ice cream for every single meal of the day. Perhaps there is some pleasure to be gained from a little bit of self-denial? After all, it was like when CBDG held me just a second too long in the Tube last week. Would that have been nearly as exciting if we'd already been sleeping together? Probably not. So why not keep this game going for a while yet?

He then told me that he hasn't slept with anyone since Drunk Girl on New Year's Eve, and told me that this was particularly unusual for him, as he's used to getting it at least once a week. Apparently this is part of some New Year's resolution to have girls he sleeps with and girls he is friends with, and never to mix up the two. And when he means "girls he sleeps with", he's quite serious about the limitations on that, i.e. girls he can call up to come over, have sex, and leave again, without any further conversation or involvement. It amazes me that such girls exist, but with him perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that he can find them.

And so, this is where I become a problem. Because as he told me, "This is how things started with my ex. As I found a girl that I was attracted to and I got on with really well, so I figured, why not date her? And look how that one turned out." I have to laugh, because most men would say that's all they're looking for in a relationship, is a girl they are attracted to who they really get on with. And now that he's found that, he's trying to stuff me back into the "friendship" box, even though the ship has sailed on us pretending to have a platonic relationship a long time ago.

At some point, we had polished off the bottle of wine we were splitting, and then the waitress who was taking care of us brought out a second one... This had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but in retrospect was probably the dumbest move ever. It got close to the time when I needed to be back at the club for my dinner, and he needed to go to Lotte's for a "boy's night out" with Lotte's fiancee. He walked me back to the club (thankfully we were within walking distance), although I don't really remember this. (The next day I had to ask him what became of the bill, as I didn't recall that one at all either).

I got changed (such a smart suggestion on Sophie's part to bring my evening dress with me), and then went upstairs for the champagne reception, but I was still really totally out of it.

We went in for dinner, and I found that my friend Fiona was supposed to be sitting across from me, but she never showed. I was so drunk at this point though, that I started texting her like mad, and got the whole table involved in wondering why Fiona wasn't there. I eventually apologised to her the next day for my misbehaviour, although she laughed and assured me it was okay, that it had made her wish she had been there!

Thankfully, at some point during the dinner I began to realise how absolutely wasted I was, and made it my mission to start guzzling water. The crowd around me seemed really lovely and friendly, and this probably was a great occasion to meet some new people, but the whole thing is just a blur. I can't remember any of it.

We went back upstairs for post-dinner drinks, but despite my best efforts with the water, I just wasn't in great shape. So after managing to carry on polite conversations with people for a while, I realised it had reached 1 AM, and there was no way I was going to survive an after-party. Time to head home!!