In the morning, the Tall South African texted me at 7:30 AM to ask if I was really coming up there. Indeed, I assured him that I'd checked the train schedules the night before, and we agreed that I would try to come up there sometime after 11 AM. So after sleeping a bit more (it was too early to get up yet on a Sunday!), I showered, dressed, and made my way to King's Cross.
I caught the 10:58 train just in time, and the Tall South African called me to tell me to get off at Stevenage, where he would pick me up. After exiting the wrong side of the station, I found him, and we went for a little bit of a drive. It's funny, as he has to wear glasses to drive, but otherwise doesn't really wear them. Hence, kind of funny to see him in glasses. I know he wears them, and have seen him in them occasionally before, but it still strikes me as I'm not used to seeing them!
We just drove around for a bit (ostensibly we were looking for a tennis club), but mostly we just drove and talked. It was funny, because I'd had absolutely no plans coming up here, other than to hang out with him, yet I knew we didn't really need much of a plan beyond that. Things are always just so easy with him, that before long we were chatting and laughing as we always do. Plus, I'd kind of forgotten how much fun it is to just drive sometimes, chatting over the radio, and talking the way you do on long car trips. I had to admit as well, even though he went quite fast on the motorways, he IS a good driver, which was sort of reassuring.
We took a brief driving tour of Letchworth, and then parked the car in Hitchin and got out to go for a walk. We found that his favourite restaurant (which he's told me about before, "Just Desserts") was open, so we stopped in for a bite to eat. The place is true to its name, in that it only serves desserts, so although it was my breakfast, I had a mint chocolate chip sundae, which was really delicious.
We then went on a little hike up a hill in a park, where we just talked about some of his antics in high school, which really had me shaking my head. I know if he tells me these things, they must be true, yet he's always so sweet and nice with me, that I just can't quite believe it. Tales of sleeping with three girls at the same time, sneaking into all-girls common rooms, and quite frankly just being more than a bit manipulative with women to get his way with them. And why did he do all of these things? He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Because I could." I know he isn't proud of it, but the truth is, he probably could get away with it all...
The skies started to cloud over, so he insisted that we go back to the car. He really timed it perfectly, as just as we drove out of the parking lot, rain drops started to fall. We went back to his house, which was a charming, if standard, suburban row house. It had the most gorgeous kitchen though, which I don't think he fully appreciates!
His entire family was down in Cornwall on a camping trip, which is why he was in the house by himself and a bit bored. I asked him if he felt left out, to not be going with them, and we had an odd conversation about how the rest of his family is very close to one another, but he's always felt a bit like the black sheep, the odd one out.
So we hung out at his house for a bit, drinking Pimms without fruit, watching some of the Olympics on television, and doing nothing much, but still having a fabulous time. Just a lazy Sunday, avoiding the thunderstorms, but enjoying it nonetheless. I was enjoying seeing where he lived so much, I imagined how much fun it would be to take him to New York sometime, something I hope I get a chance to do someday.
The Young Dutchman called me, wanting to get my feedback on his thesis, and I think was surprised to learn that I was spending the day with the Tall South African. I never talk to the Young Dutchman much about the Tall South African, as I don't think he likes knowing that there's another important boy in my life. The Tall South African, for his part, knows that I'm close to the Young Dutchman, and hence I think saw that confirmed with the Young Dutchman's constant pestering of me..
After this, the Tall South African missed a call from The Girl, although just turned it off and said he'd call her later. We talked a bit about her, this girl who he's been friends with for years, who he's been trying to have a dating relationship with for a few months now. The one thing I sort of wanted to point out to him was something I knew he already knew: If he had the house to himself, why was I the girl up visiting him, not his girlfriend? And it's that weird sinking feeling you have, when you know something isn't going to work out for someone, but yet you try to pretend it's all fine.
Because after listening to the Tall South African talk about this girl, I realised it would be the equivalent of me trying to date the Young Dutchman. And on one level, everyone probably assumes that our relationship would run incredibly smoothly, for he's one of my best friends in the world, who I practically take for granted, as I know how much he adores me. And yet, I would (just the way this girl the Tall South African is with) always assume that he was going to cheat on me. What would be the only way to reassure me, to establish that trust? Well, it would be to spend lots of time together. And yet, this girl never goes to see the Tall South African, they don't sleep together, and at this point he hadn't seen her in over three weeks. Even worse, she's so self-concious about her body, she won't even let him see her without her clothes on until she's lost another 5 kilos. Which of course, he could care less about. I want him to be happy, yet the writing is just there on the wall for all to see. Maybe things will change, but I just think when I compare how easy things are with the two of us, and how much he struggles with this girl, I wanted to ask, "Doesn't something seem wrong here to you?"
When the skies cleared, we took a walk down to his local pub, splitting a bottle of wine out in the back garden and just chatting more. Originally he'd said that we could have that one bottle, and that would be it, but somehow when it came time to walk into town, we stopped at another pub, and got another bottle. He was so distracted by his phone that I stole it from him for a bit, and continued to ramble on as we discussed, life, emotions, and grand plans.
Then, he got a call from his friend Troy, who was out with his girlfriend, and when he handed the phone over to me, I managed to convince them to come out and join us for a drink. Which they did, and then we ended up at another pub, until it was quite obvious that the Tall South African and I were in no state to even walk home, so Troy drove us back to the Tall South African's place.
At which point it was also stupidly obvious that there was no way I was going to make it back to London that night. So the Tall South African went to work in the kitchen, making up an apple crumble that I had to admit was amazingly good for drunken cooking, and then decided to put me in his brother's room. (I wondered why not just crash with him, until I saw that he had a single bed. Yup, there is no way either of us would get any sleep if we tried that!)
So he put me in that room, and when I asked for something to sleep in, he took off his own shirt and handed it directly over to me. Which I then found a bit strange, as he just kept standing there with his shirt off, so I guessed there was nothing to do but change right in front of him. Yet when I did the usual dance that girls do, getting their bra off under their shirt, he laughed and asked, "What is it with you girls always trying to be so modest? It's not like I haven't seen you naked before..." True, so at that point I just gave up and stripped down right in front of him. Such a strange relationship we have!
I crashed into his brother's bed (when was the last time I slept in a single bed?) and was sound asleep pretty quickly, but after an incredibly fun day!
Sunday, 29 July 2012
Saturday, 28 July 2012
Lotte's BBQ
In the morning, my head hurt like it hasn't hurt in quite a while, and since the Tall South African can always seem to sense this, he called me just to laugh... I always do feel better after talking to him on the phone however, and was feeling halfway decent by the time we finished chatting. He was obviously quite bored (all by himself in the house with his parents on holiday and nobody to talk to), so I assured him I would come up and visit him the next day.
I also got a text from Lotte's fiancee inviting me over to their place for a BBQ in the evening, and I promised I would go later after I met up with a Belgian friend of mine for drinks.
Met this girl, who is now living in Utrecht, for drinks nearby, and got to have a nice little chat and catch-up on what she's been up to lately. She'd broken up with the boy she was seeing, who was a relationship that probably wasn't going to work anyway, but still seemed a bit puzzled over how it all happened. Then when she related the tale of how he'd been gone for three months in the bush, but she'd written him e-mails once a week to tell him all about her life, I had to laugh as it was so obvious. The guy would have come home to a million long e-mails, and totally have flipped out. Why is it that girls are so often never able to see how their actions will appear to the guy, and often appear quite creepy too?
Still, after a little bit there, I made my way on over to Lotte's, where I found there were quite a few people gathered, and I was quite late. No matter, as I found myself pretty quickly swept up in conversation with three guys, and once was quite entertaining, so very much enjoyed the stories. Had almost no wine or food, but whatever...
Finally, towards the end of the evening, it turned out that the very entertaining guy lived quite near to me, so the two of us decided to head home together. Although since the bus we would take wasn't running (we waited at the bus stop for ages before figuring this out), we ended up walking home, a distance of about an hour's walk!
Still, it was kind of cool as it was a reasonably warm night, and we walked right by Earl's Court right as a match let out at 1 AM, and we got to watch all of the people streaming out to the Tube, affirming why the Tube was running late during the Olympics.
Overall, a decent walk, even if we didn't get home until nearly 2 AM, and you could tell that the guy had maybe hoped to hit on me at first, but eventually just got tired and cranky. Oh well, but one of those great nights just to be out and enjoying the summer and the Olympic spirit!
I also got a text from Lotte's fiancee inviting me over to their place for a BBQ in the evening, and I promised I would go later after I met up with a Belgian friend of mine for drinks.
Met this girl, who is now living in Utrecht, for drinks nearby, and got to have a nice little chat and catch-up on what she's been up to lately. She'd broken up with the boy she was seeing, who was a relationship that probably wasn't going to work anyway, but still seemed a bit puzzled over how it all happened. Then when she related the tale of how he'd been gone for three months in the bush, but she'd written him e-mails once a week to tell him all about her life, I had to laugh as it was so obvious. The guy would have come home to a million long e-mails, and totally have flipped out. Why is it that girls are so often never able to see how their actions will appear to the guy, and often appear quite creepy too?
Still, after a little bit there, I made my way on over to Lotte's, where I found there were quite a few people gathered, and I was quite late. No matter, as I found myself pretty quickly swept up in conversation with three guys, and once was quite entertaining, so very much enjoyed the stories. Had almost no wine or food, but whatever...
Finally, towards the end of the evening, it turned out that the very entertaining guy lived quite near to me, so the two of us decided to head home together. Although since the bus we would take wasn't running (we waited at the bus stop for ages before figuring this out), we ended up walking home, a distance of about an hour's walk!
Still, it was kind of cool as it was a reasonably warm night, and we walked right by Earl's Court right as a match let out at 1 AM, and we got to watch all of the people streaming out to the Tube, affirming why the Tube was running late during the Olympics.
Overall, a decent walk, even if we didn't get home until nearly 2 AM, and you could tell that the guy had maybe hoped to hit on me at first, but eventually just got tired and cranky. Oh well, but one of those great nights just to be out and enjoying the summer and the Olympic spirit!
Friday, 27 July 2012
Opening Ceremony
I had physio in the morning, but then since I'd taken the whole day off of work, I went shopping afterwards, and got myself two nice lace dresses, at least one of which I can hopefully wear to an upcoming, "Leather and Lace" party I'm going to.
In the afternoon, I met my friend, Scottish Guy, for drinks at a pub near Hyde Park. We had drinks while we waited for a few others to join us, and then we made our way over to Hyde Park for the event itself.
As we were standing in line, I got a call from the Young Dutchman, calling to share the exciting news that he'd been offered the job at Google! Admittedly, I hadn't worried about him at all from the moment I'd heard he'd gotten an interview, for he can talk anybody into anything. But was very pleased for him, he sounded all so excited about it. Although also startled, because unless I mis-heard him, he's going to be making more money than I am! Definitely need to do something to step up my career a bit...
The experience of being at the park for the Opening Ceremony was epic, standing out in this field on this warm summer evening, the sun just setting, a light breeze blowing, and everyone standing up and singing "Jerusalem". And as thousands of voices around me sang, "In England's green and pleasant land", chills were absolutely running down my spine. Everything made me gasp, from Kenneth Branaugh reciting from Shakespeare's "The Tempest" to the celebration of the NHS. But I had to wonder, "Will anybody else from other countries know what on earth this all means?" But whatever. It was amazing. I loved it.
It sounds kind of corny, but when they were all singing "Jerusalem", all the thousands of people in the park started singing along, and there were absolute chills running down my spine as we were singing about England's "green and pleasant land." I thought the show was spectacular, and Danny Boyle should be proud of what he accomplished. I did wonder however if it was the sort of show that might appeal more to the "hometown crowd" though, as it was so thoroughly British! But I LOVED that the Queen was in on the joke with Daniel Craig as Bond, and the big with Mr Bean doing "Chariots of Fire" had me laughing my head off. It was a warm summer night, and just standing out in the park, with all those people, a light breeze in the air....utterly amazing. Definitely a moment to remember.
In fact, my only complaint about the evening was that they kept cutting out the live feed (including the parade of nations) to show concert footage from the concert we were at. Boo, put back on the Olympics! Also, we had so much to drink that I kind of lost track of things at the end of the evening, and then ended up walking around half of London with Scottish Guy at the end of the evening. It was funny, as we walked with our arms around each other, in an embrace that with any other guy would have definitely seemed like he was making a move, but with Scottish Guy, who is very gay, it was just the warm way you hang on to your closest friends. And let's face it, we were all quite tipsy!
Somehow made it home in the end, after a brilliant start to the Olympics!
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
Last Wednesday Drinks
When my phone rang this afternoon and I saw the Tall South African's name pop up, I answered with delight, "Always my favourite name to see pop up on my phone!" And the Tall South African replied with a laugh, "Well that goes without saying, doesn't it?"
We had one of our usual half-hour chats as he went about acquiring his lunch, and we talked about everything from how much fun PacMan was the night before to healthy eating habits. I have to admit, he had many points when he talked about my Diet Coke consumption, and while I did feel a little bit like he was encouraging me to go on a diet, I know it was more of his gentle way of suggesting that we both needed to eat better.
Mostly though, it was one of our usual freewheeling conversations, and even with a sensitive topic like losing weight thrown in, I still just enjoyed talking to him so much. Particularly after the weirdness and immaturity of the night before, I was struck by how damn easy everything is with the Tall South African. If only all boys could be like this!
In the evening, I had to go out for the "Last Wednesday of the Month" drinks at the club, where this chap I've always thought to be a nice individual had made a big deal about how he would be playing squash beforehand and was looking forward to seeing me. It was good to see him and catch up, and I even learned that he is Swiss, something I hadn't known before. Kind of strange, I couldn't tell if he was so eager to see me because of other reasons or just to catch up, but regardless it was nice to see him.
Although as the evening went on, I found myself with an excuse to go over and sit with JG, who was there I think because Tristan had brought him. Hadn't seen him since that Rotational Dinner back in February, and although I assumed we were just friends now, I did want to catch up with him.
Had a nice time talking to him, and even walked back to Green Park station with him. Where you can imagine my surprise as we got to the point where we needed to pick our trains, he asked, "You're not coming my way?" I guess I was a bit slow on the uptake, for I just kept talking about where I lived, and was then as shocked as heck when he silenced me by kissing me full on the mouth. No joke, my stunned reaction was just to say, "Oh." That one seemed to come out of nowhere, as far as I was concerned!
And then, to at least try and give him the sense that I wasn't rejecting him or anything, I went back and kissed him again, to properly kiss him back (I'd been too surprised the first time to do anything but stand there with my mouth open). But then didn't say anything else, just went home on my own. I feel a bit badly about it, but we've all got work in the morning, and I need to get up early to go to the gym to see my personal trainer. No way could I have had overnight guests, nor could I have been anywhere else. It was the right move, but I still feel a bit like I missed out on something there... How many times can I hope that there's a next time?
We had one of our usual half-hour chats as he went about acquiring his lunch, and we talked about everything from how much fun PacMan was the night before to healthy eating habits. I have to admit, he had many points when he talked about my Diet Coke consumption, and while I did feel a little bit like he was encouraging me to go on a diet, I know it was more of his gentle way of suggesting that we both needed to eat better.
Mostly though, it was one of our usual freewheeling conversations, and even with a sensitive topic like losing weight thrown in, I still just enjoyed talking to him so much. Particularly after the weirdness and immaturity of the night before, I was struck by how damn easy everything is with the Tall South African. If only all boys could be like this!
In the evening, I had to go out for the "Last Wednesday of the Month" drinks at the club, where this chap I've always thought to be a nice individual had made a big deal about how he would be playing squash beforehand and was looking forward to seeing me. It was good to see him and catch up, and I even learned that he is Swiss, something I hadn't known before. Kind of strange, I couldn't tell if he was so eager to see me because of other reasons or just to catch up, but regardless it was nice to see him.
Although as the evening went on, I found myself with an excuse to go over and sit with JG, who was there I think because Tristan had brought him. Hadn't seen him since that Rotational Dinner back in February, and although I assumed we were just friends now, I did want to catch up with him.
Had a nice time talking to him, and even walked back to Green Park station with him. Where you can imagine my surprise as we got to the point where we needed to pick our trains, he asked, "You're not coming my way?" I guess I was a bit slow on the uptake, for I just kept talking about where I lived, and was then as shocked as heck when he silenced me by kissing me full on the mouth. No joke, my stunned reaction was just to say, "Oh." That one seemed to come out of nowhere, as far as I was concerned!
And then, to at least try and give him the sense that I wasn't rejecting him or anything, I went back and kissed him again, to properly kiss him back (I'd been too surprised the first time to do anything but stand there with my mouth open). But then didn't say anything else, just went home on my own. I feel a bit badly about it, but we've all got work in the morning, and I need to get up early to go to the gym to see my personal trainer. No way could I have had overnight guests, nor could I have been anywhere else. It was the right move, but I still feel a bit like I missed out on something there... How many times can I hope that there's a next time?
Tuesday, 24 July 2012
Pac Man
I had my usual appointment with my personal trainer in the morning, which was as deadly as usual, but at the end had a majorly exciting upside, when I realised I could cross my legs at the end of the session! Very exciting development, and a nice milestone to remember that I am making progress.
During the work day, I chatted to the Tall South African (as per usual, where I entertained him with stories about PacMan), and then found myself online chatting with Kellogg Boy, and so tried to encourage him to take some time out from working on his thesis to come to PacMan. After all, if the Young Dutchman is going to be out of town, I need somebody else around to entertain me, right? Alas, in the end he decided he couldn't spare the time, which was such a shame.
So after work I headed out to PacMan, where I got to see quite a few faces I hadn't seen in a while, including Zu, my old flatmate! She'd moved back from Abu Dhabi some time back, but I hadn't managed to catch up with her since she'd been back. Such a shame, we barely had time to shriek, say hello, and share hugs with a promise to catch up later, before the whole thing was starting and I needed to head off to the drinks stop. (Due to my knee being in such rubbish shape that I can't run, I was instead volunteering to man one of the drinks stops for the evening. Still a good way to participate and have fun though!)
(A quick explanation here: PacMan is basically a giant game of tag, played in Leicester Square. Most everyone is PacMans, but there are a few ghosts running around and tagging people. The objective is to make it to one of four drinks stops around the square without getting tagged. Basically, a giant free-for-all game of tag with drinking involved).
I didn't manage to spot DM before I headed out to the drinks stop, but I wasn't there for long before he found it among the runners and came over to say hello. We stayed chatting for a while, and then he suddenly asked me, "You speak Spanish, right? This meet-up group that I'm a part of is meeting on just the other side of the river. I think I'm going to go over there."
Notice, however, that he did not actually say, "Do you want to come with me?" So I shrug my shoulders, and off he goes. I stayed for the end of the run, and once it was time to go back to the pub, I walked back with Cookie, to have a good chance to catch up with her. She'd finally ended things with her ex-fiancee (who had wanted to get back together with her), and had taken up with her married boss again. Not sure what I think about that, but I try hard just to listen and not be judgemental.
During the work day, I chatted to the Tall South African (as per usual, where I entertained him with stories about PacMan), and then found myself online chatting with Kellogg Boy, and so tried to encourage him to take some time out from working on his thesis to come to PacMan. After all, if the Young Dutchman is going to be out of town, I need somebody else around to entertain me, right? Alas, in the end he decided he couldn't spare the time, which was such a shame.
(A quick explanation here: PacMan is basically a giant game of tag, played in Leicester Square. Most everyone is PacMans, but there are a few ghosts running around and tagging people. The objective is to make it to one of four drinks stops around the square without getting tagged. Basically, a giant free-for-all game of tag with drinking involved).
I didn't manage to spot DM before I headed out to the drinks stop, but I wasn't there for long before he found it among the runners and came over to say hello. We stayed chatting for a while, and then he suddenly asked me, "You speak Spanish, right? This meet-up group that I'm a part of is meeting on just the other side of the river. I think I'm going to go over there."
Once back at the pub, I realise that DM had texted me some time back, asking, "Are you coming? I got us some beers." No idea why the guy couldn't have just invited me along in the first place, but so it goes... I ended up chatting to Cookie and Matt for a bit, but then headed back over to the park. I found DM, he gave me a beer, and I chatted with the others present in Spanish for a little bit. (DM's Spanish, while having a terrible accent, actually had a better grasp of vocab than mine did, reminding me that I need to practice!)
So I sit, chatting with him and the group for a bit, when he decides he wants to go on a fairground ride nearby. "That looks fun, don't you think? I think I'm going to go on it. I mean, it looks awesome!"
Again, please note the lack of invitation, at no point does he ask, "Do you want to come with me?" So I just stay put where I am. To have him return 15 minutes later saying, "That was so much fun! You totally should have come! I had to ride it all by myself!" {Sigh!} I'm so tempted to point out the obvious, that he should have asked me to join him, but I restrain myself...
The entire evening continues like this, where he doesn't make any effort to talk to me, but as soon as I'm off in another group talking and laughing, he seems to find an excuse to stop in and check in with me. OMG, is this why I hated boys in high school?
When I found him in the park, he was happy to see me ("Where were you? I missed you!"), but tried to act cool about it ("But hey. Cool. If you feel like joining...) I felt like I was dealing with a 16-year old boy, who likes a girl but tries to act indifferent. Why do 16-year old boys do that?
Again, please note the lack of invitation, at no point does he ask, "Do you want to come with me?" So I just stay put where I am. To have him return 15 minutes later saying, "That was so much fun! You totally should have come! I had to ride it all by myself!" {Sigh!} I'm so tempted to point out the obvious, that he should have asked me to join him, but I restrain myself...
The entire evening continues like this, where he doesn't make any effort to talk to me, but as soon as I'm off in another group talking and laughing, he seems to find an excuse to stop in and check in with me. OMG, is this why I hated boys in high school?
Finally, as it was getting somewhat late and I was worried about all of my things back at the pub, I walked back to the pub along with DM. As we walked, he told me stories about getting angry with friends who didn't respond to texts, and even de-friending Scottish Lawyer Guy on Facebook after he didn't respond to a message about being in Jersey. I'm surprised at how harsh he is with people, and insecure about people's motives for things. (i.e. Don't you often consider that people who don't get back to you right away are just busy, and not that they're trying to be mean to you?) As we walked and talked, I realised with a bit of startled horror that this attitude meant I was actually one of his oldest friends. He even admitted as such, telling me that he granted me a lot more latitude than he did most people because I'm one of his closest friends. Now that came as a surprise...
We got back to the pub, I bought us a round of drinks, and we spent some time socialising and chatting to people. I realise I should have been here, rather than with DM in the park. The pub closed at 11, so many of us wandered on to O'Neils, but given that we were a large group wearing funny shirts, the bouncers didn't want to let us in.
I figured then that it was just a good time to head home, but DM wanted to start an argument with the bouncers. How childish.. We then ended up walking around a bit, just the two of us, where he totally belied my original impression of him as laid-back Australian by continuing to remain fixated on the pub that wouldn't let us in.
The group finally ended up at LVPO, where I was surprised after buying our rounds earlier, DM didn't buy me a drink, until I finally just figured I would get my own. I stayed chatting to everyone for a bit, but finally decided to head off in time to catch the last Tube home.
Given how little attention he paid to me at the end of the evening, you can imagine my surprise when the minute I walked in the door, I was bombarded with texts asking if I was home safe, telling me about the food he'd picked up on the way home, and just basically continuing a conversation we were never having when we parted company. WTF?
Chatted to him for a bit and then went to bed...I'd had enough of bi-polar boys for one evening!
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Calling Everyone, Seeing No One
In the morning, the Tall South African called me, chatting to me as he waited for his train down to London. He was heading to a BBQ at a friend's place out in Hoxton, but he was hoping to meet up with me later in the day.
Pretty much as soon as he hung, up Sophie called me, and we ended up chatting for over an hour. I remembered that on Friday I'd said I would check on getting tickets for polo today and call her, but had never quite gotten around to doing so. She told me not to worry, as although the weather was gorgeous and it would be a fun day at polo, we both need to save some money and stay home occasionally. Still, it was just good to gossip and catch up with her for a while, I've missed our usual catch-ups playing squash!
Then the Young Dutchman came online (he's in Switzerland, you might remember), to chat to me for a bit. Which almost annoyed me a little bit, as I never understand why he can never be in place. Why talk to me, instead of the live people right in front of you, who are there right where you are? But then again, he's always been like that, and particularly always wants to talk to me. I suppose it's why he always calls the minute I walk in the door after being away on trips, he misses me!
I tried to clean-up and get organised on other things, while waiting for the Tall South African to call with plans to meet up later. Given how much he'd had on his schedule for the day, I was somewhat suspicious as to whether our planned meet-up would materialise. So I wasn't really all that surprised when he called to let me know that he wasn't going to make it. I suppose I should have seen that one coming. Oh well.
I called my folks, who were at my brother's place, as it was my niece's birthday. I got to see her be all excited about her balloons (which was VERY excited, she kept running over to show me the entire time!) Good to see her and wish her a happy birthday, and catch up with everyone there.
Then, right as I finished that call, DM popped up online (remember him?) to say, "you look a bit like anne hathaway in the face". Okay, I can see that, but where the heck did this come from? I mean, the last time I saw DM had to be months ago, and while he shows up at random times in my life, this really came from out of nowhere. So I responded to him for a bit, and was then surprised when he picked up the phone and called me to talk for a half-hour. Just rambling conversation about vegetarianism and how he'd been in my neighbourhood earlier that afternoon and he'd thought about calling me to meet up but didn't. Eventually we settled on the fact that we would see each other at the PacMan run on Tuesday, which I'm looking forward to now.
Sometime after midnight, the Tall South African called me from his train home, obviously quite drunk, and talked to me the whole way home (even in the cab from the train station). Apparently the friends he was out with started doing shots, and now he was in quite a state, having nearly missed the last train home. He seemed really quite crushed to have missed me, and kept talking about how much he was looking forward to seeing me for the Olympics. In fact, he's decided he wants to spend the whole weekend with me. Then he started going on about his brilliant idea that we need to get a flat together. That I would move out of my little studio and we would live together in a flat somewhere in north London, not too far from King's Cross. I can't imagine a worse idea, really. I know if we lived together, it would be like when the Young Dutchman lived with me, where no boy I dated could live up to the standard he set. But it's kind of cute how excited he is about it. I do have to admit, it would be fun...
Pretty much as soon as he hung, up Sophie called me, and we ended up chatting for over an hour. I remembered that on Friday I'd said I would check on getting tickets for polo today and call her, but had never quite gotten around to doing so. She told me not to worry, as although the weather was gorgeous and it would be a fun day at polo, we both need to save some money and stay home occasionally. Still, it was just good to gossip and catch up with her for a while, I've missed our usual catch-ups playing squash!
Then the Young Dutchman came online (he's in Switzerland, you might remember), to chat to me for a bit. Which almost annoyed me a little bit, as I never understand why he can never be in place. Why talk to me, instead of the live people right in front of you, who are there right where you are? But then again, he's always been like that, and particularly always wants to talk to me. I suppose it's why he always calls the minute I walk in the door after being away on trips, he misses me!
I tried to clean-up and get organised on other things, while waiting for the Tall South African to call with plans to meet up later. Given how much he'd had on his schedule for the day, I was somewhat suspicious as to whether our planned meet-up would materialise. So I wasn't really all that surprised when he called to let me know that he wasn't going to make it. I suppose I should have seen that one coming. Oh well.
I called my folks, who were at my brother's place, as it was my niece's birthday. I got to see her be all excited about her balloons (which was VERY excited, she kept running over to show me the entire time!) Good to see her and wish her a happy birthday, and catch up with everyone there.
Then, right as I finished that call, DM popped up online (remember him?) to say, "you look a bit like anne hathaway in the face". Okay, I can see that, but where the heck did this come from? I mean, the last time I saw DM had to be months ago, and while he shows up at random times in my life, this really came from out of nowhere. So I responded to him for a bit, and was then surprised when he picked up the phone and called me to talk for a half-hour. Just rambling conversation about vegetarianism and how he'd been in my neighbourhood earlier that afternoon and he'd thought about calling me to meet up but didn't. Eventually we settled on the fact that we would see each other at the PacMan run on Tuesday, which I'm looking forward to now.
Sometime after midnight, the Tall South African called me from his train home, obviously quite drunk, and talked to me the whole way home (even in the cab from the train station). Apparently the friends he was out with started doing shots, and now he was in quite a state, having nearly missed the last train home. He seemed really quite crushed to have missed me, and kept talking about how much he was looking forward to seeing me for the Olympics. In fact, he's decided he wants to spend the whole weekend with me. Then he started going on about his brilliant idea that we need to get a flat together. That I would move out of my little studio and we would live together in a flat somewhere in north London, not too far from King's Cross. I can't imagine a worse idea, really. I know if we lived together, it would be like when the Young Dutchman lived with me, where no boy I dated could live up to the standard he set. But it's kind of cute how excited he is about it. I do have to admit, it would be fun...
Saturday, 21 July 2012
Olympics Party
We also ended up talking about Drunk Girl for a bit (remember her?) and how many men she's slept with, discovering a few more as we chatted to each other. Yet, as he said, "She's calmed down a lot more now, but the damage has been done." Indeed, whilst a man's reputation might recover from sleeping with that many women, for a girl the rules are just different. And I almost feel bad for her, having made so many mistakes that just can't be undone.
I found myself chatting with some French people after a while, but after struggling with the difference between French and English, one guy surprised me by just switching over to speaking Spanish. Surprisingly, that was much easier for both of us, leading the guy to ask me if my native language was Spanish! No, but quite the pat on the back to think that my Spanish was good enough to fool him...
Then I decided to walk for a bit before catching a cab, and surprised myself by walking all of the way back to my flat. Took almost 45 minutes, but it was a good way to walk off the evening. What a fun night out!
Friday, 20 July 2012
A Toast to George
It was a busy day here, as I got up early to get to the gym so I could loosen up my leg before my appointment with my surgeon. I of course didn't get to the gym as quickly as I'd hoped, and then spent a bit too long there, as I was racing to get to my surgeon in time (and in fact was a few minutes late).
However my surgeon seemed happy with my progress, and told me that I was doing "very well". He could understand my frustration with the lack of range-of-motion, but told me to keep doing what I was doing, and that things would improve. According to him, far too many of his patients didn't want to put in the necessary work or effort, so he was sure that with the amount I was doing, I was sure to be in fighting shape before too long.
I then went over to the Young Dutchman's flat, where we sat for a few hours while I got some of my own work done, and tried my best to keep him on track with his thesis. I've never seen somebody with such an amazing penchant for procrastination, that boy really hates working! Felt a bit too much like being somebody's mother, trying to keep a distractible teenage boy on task, so I tried not to get on his case too much. It's his own damn fault if he can't manage to do the work.
I reviewed some of what he'd written, but too much was really in outline form, so I couldn't really say much, he needed to honestly sit and write it. Still, it was nice, just standing there behind him, my chin resting on the top of his head, working through the thesis. I found it funny, talking to him later as I walked out to the Tube and he joined me, as he talked about the importance of hugs. Apparently we need at least eight hugs a day to maintain our dopamine and endorphin levels, and hugs and physical contact are what strengthen relationships. Funny, as it kind of explained what I've already known, that I always desire being physically close to him, but it's not in an intimate sense at all. It's just all those hugs, getting up our dopamine levels!
I then when to physio, where I had my first appointment with a new guy (since my regular physio has gone back to New Zealand for six weeks). This guy wasn't as strong with my leg as she'd been, but it was still good to get a different perspective on how I'm doing and what I should be doing.
Then it was back to my flat, saying hello to Margaret briefly, before running out to the Lansdowne for the "Toast to George" event being held that evening. You see, a friend from the club, George, had suddenly passed away in his sleep a few weeks ago. No warning, no indication that anything was wrong, but a 24-year old guy just died. And so we decided to have an evening where we shared photos and stories of George, his family came along, and all of his friends basically got together to remember him.
I spent a lot of time chatting with Sophie, who I hadn't seen in far too long, and also ran into a guy Preston, who I know from my running club. Actually it was funny, as it was the Young Dutchman, doing his hyper-socialisation thing as usual, who said, "Hey, is that Preston?" but when we went to say hello, Preston was much more keen to see me!
I also at one point discovered that both Kellogg Boy and Canadian Balliol Guy were there, but I barely got a chance to talk to them. However, Canadian Balliol Guy did tell me that he'd quit smoking, which made me very happy. I hate it when people smoke, mostly from the perspective that I don't like the idea of people I like dying early from lung cancer. (In addition to the fact that it's a gross and disgusting habit). So I was very excited to hear this news, although I worry that Canadian Balliol Guy thought it was just the gin talking.
I ended up congratulating him on FB the next day, which led to a hilarious exchange where we all pretended we were congratulating him on being pregnant. Made me laugh my head off.
But most of the evening, I just ended up chatting with Sophie and Preston. Preston particularly was in a very good mood, as he'd apparently changed jobs to work on a trading floor, rather than be stuck in law, and had been dating a lovely girl since December who made him blissfully happy, who he thought might be "the one".
Every time we finished our drinks, Preston kept buying new rounds, until I barely slipped out of there just after midnight. Was having so much fun catching up with Sophie and Preston, I barely noticed the time. Luckily caught the train home at the last minute, although I later heard they all went on to Dover Street and had quite the night. My hangover was bad enough in the morning, I think I did well to head home then!
However my surgeon seemed happy with my progress, and told me that I was doing "very well". He could understand my frustration with the lack of range-of-motion, but told me to keep doing what I was doing, and that things would improve. According to him, far too many of his patients didn't want to put in the necessary work or effort, so he was sure that with the amount I was doing, I was sure to be in fighting shape before too long.
I then went over to the Young Dutchman's flat, where we sat for a few hours while I got some of my own work done, and tried my best to keep him on track with his thesis. I've never seen somebody with such an amazing penchant for procrastination, that boy really hates working! Felt a bit too much like being somebody's mother, trying to keep a distractible teenage boy on task, so I tried not to get on his case too much. It's his own damn fault if he can't manage to do the work.
I reviewed some of what he'd written, but too much was really in outline form, so I couldn't really say much, he needed to honestly sit and write it. Still, it was nice, just standing there behind him, my chin resting on the top of his head, working through the thesis. I found it funny, talking to him later as I walked out to the Tube and he joined me, as he talked about the importance of hugs. Apparently we need at least eight hugs a day to maintain our dopamine and endorphin levels, and hugs and physical contact are what strengthen relationships. Funny, as it kind of explained what I've already known, that I always desire being physically close to him, but it's not in an intimate sense at all. It's just all those hugs, getting up our dopamine levels!
I then when to physio, where I had my first appointment with a new guy (since my regular physio has gone back to New Zealand for six weeks). This guy wasn't as strong with my leg as she'd been, but it was still good to get a different perspective on how I'm doing and what I should be doing.
Then it was back to my flat, saying hello to Margaret briefly, before running out to the Lansdowne for the "Toast to George" event being held that evening. You see, a friend from the club, George, had suddenly passed away in his sleep a few weeks ago. No warning, no indication that anything was wrong, but a 24-year old guy just died. And so we decided to have an evening where we shared photos and stories of George, his family came along, and all of his friends basically got together to remember him.
I spent a lot of time chatting with Sophie, who I hadn't seen in far too long, and also ran into a guy Preston, who I know from my running club. Actually it was funny, as it was the Young Dutchman, doing his hyper-socialisation thing as usual, who said, "Hey, is that Preston?" but when we went to say hello, Preston was much more keen to see me!
I also at one point discovered that both Kellogg Boy and Canadian Balliol Guy were there, but I barely got a chance to talk to them. However, Canadian Balliol Guy did tell me that he'd quit smoking, which made me very happy. I hate it when people smoke, mostly from the perspective that I don't like the idea of people I like dying early from lung cancer. (In addition to the fact that it's a gross and disgusting habit). So I was very excited to hear this news, although I worry that Canadian Balliol Guy thought it was just the gin talking.
I ended up congratulating him on FB the next day, which led to a hilarious exchange where we all pretended we were congratulating him on being pregnant. Made me laugh my head off.
But most of the evening, I just ended up chatting with Sophie and Preston. Preston particularly was in a very good mood, as he'd apparently changed jobs to work on a trading floor, rather than be stuck in law, and had been dating a lovely girl since December who made him blissfully happy, who he thought might be "the one".
Every time we finished our drinks, Preston kept buying new rounds, until I barely slipped out of there just after midnight. Was having so much fun catching up with Sophie and Preston, I barely noticed the time. Luckily caught the train home at the last minute, although I later heard they all went on to Dover Street and had quite the night. My hangover was bad enough in the morning, I think I did well to head home then!
Saturday, 14 July 2012
The Insane Travel Saga
Spent the entire morning in the most awkward silence imaginable. No joke, the only words he said to me were, "Would you like a cup of tea?" You've got to love the English for that: No matter what happens, they will always offer you a cup of tea. Everything can be solved by a cuppa. I swear, this is what got them through the war, as no matter what was happening outside, they were still stalwartly drinking tea in their bomb shelters as though nothing was wrong. No offer of breakfast, but I wasn't going to raise that issue, I figured I could just starve for a while.
Leaving later than I would have liked, we caught a taxi to the train station. As quick as I could, after a hurried good-bye, I raced like an escaped prisoner to get on that train. Except that 10 minutes before my train was supposed to leave, there was an accident on the tracks just one station ahead, and all southbound trains were cancelled. Not wanting to go back for more awkward tea drinking, I asked around to see if there were some way, any way, out of there. One of the officials on the platforms said it would probably be about 3 hours before any trains were moving south again. And then, just as we were speaking, I noticed a train to Cambridge (due west) was just about to depart on the platform opposite. Without even having time to think about it, I hopped on that train.
I used my iPhone to figure out when the train I was on would be arriving in Cambridge. And learned that there was a train to London departing from Cambridge 4 minutes after this one was due to get in, but it was a slow train. If I actually waited for the one departing 10 minutes later, I'd actually arrive in London sooner. So, got to Cambridge, everyone hopped on the next London train, while I waited, and yet arrived in London quicker.
On the train, I called the Young Dutchman, as I had to explain my delay. We were planning to meet so I could pick up a jacket that needed to go up to Oxford (he'd borrowed it from a friend), so I could bring it back on my journey up there. Funny enough, when he called earlier that morning (while I was still at CBDG's house), he somehow instinctively seemed to know not to ask too many questions about it. Then again, not like he ever likes talking about me with other boys anyway, but for once I was glad of it.
Met up with the Young Dutchman on a street corner by Green Park, did the handoff (I was a bit irritated at him for being late even after I was late, but that's typical of him), and then I hopped on a bus back to my flat. Dropped my bags, grabbed my things, and then ran to go catch the Oxford Tube. The bus got somewhat delayed (traffic came to a standstill on the M40), but eventually I made it to Oxford at around 6 PM. Oh yeah, and I'd originally been supposed to meet everyone at 3:30...sigh! How I wish I'd stuck with my originally planned 7:30 AM train from Norwich!
Got to the pub, met all of my friends, and successfully returned the jacket to its owner. I was further irritated at having arrived so late, because the conversation proved to be so interesting. I'd forgotten how much I liked these people.
The conversation ranged from why we can't return to the Gold Standard (and the macro economic theory behind it), to how the best solution for the Euro crisis would be for Germany to quietly withdraw (not that it will ever happen). And we talked about how the modern era, when we live now, is the best time to be alive in history, just from a nutrition and health perspective. Apparently in his day, George Washington was considered to be a giant at 6'1" tall, which is utterly average for men in this day and age.
I also had a good rant with a friend of mine who works for the Justice Department (he laughingly calls himself "al-Qaeda's lawyer" since he defends inmates at Guantanamo Bay) about how stupid people who work in government can be (he related a hilarious story of a paralegal screwing up three times the fact that the cover of a brief needed to be blue), although I had a few anecdotes of my own to share about some of the people I work with who don't understand maths.
Most of all, just intelligent, interesting conversation with people who were so thoroughly engaged in the conversation, and kept saying, "I'm so glad you came." Such a difference from my time in Norwich!
I finally headed back down to London at around midnight, chatting to the Young Dutchman the whole way. I got back to my flat and we had a Skype video chat for about an hour. Eventually we just ended up "hanging out" while I got ready for bed and occasionally interrupted him with passages from "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac (I'm re-reading it at the moment). Because we do that: Set up Skype as sort of a portal link between wherever we are, and just spend time together.
Leaving later than I would have liked, we caught a taxi to the train station. As quick as I could, after a hurried good-bye, I raced like an escaped prisoner to get on that train. Except that 10 minutes before my train was supposed to leave, there was an accident on the tracks just one station ahead, and all southbound trains were cancelled. Not wanting to go back for more awkward tea drinking, I asked around to see if there were some way, any way, out of there. One of the officials on the platforms said it would probably be about 3 hours before any trains were moving south again. And then, just as we were speaking, I noticed a train to Cambridge (due west) was just about to depart on the platform opposite. Without even having time to think about it, I hopped on that train.
On the train, I called the Young Dutchman, as I had to explain my delay. We were planning to meet so I could pick up a jacket that needed to go up to Oxford (he'd borrowed it from a friend), so I could bring it back on my journey up there. Funny enough, when he called earlier that morning (while I was still at CBDG's house), he somehow instinctively seemed to know not to ask too many questions about it. Then again, not like he ever likes talking about me with other boys anyway, but for once I was glad of it.
Met up with the Young Dutchman on a street corner by Green Park, did the handoff (I was a bit irritated at him for being late even after I was late, but that's typical of him), and then I hopped on a bus back to my flat. Dropped my bags, grabbed my things, and then ran to go catch the Oxford Tube. The bus got somewhat delayed (traffic came to a standstill on the M40), but eventually I made it to Oxford at around 6 PM. Oh yeah, and I'd originally been supposed to meet everyone at 3:30...sigh! How I wish I'd stuck with my originally planned 7:30 AM train from Norwich!
Got to the pub, met all of my friends, and successfully returned the jacket to its owner. I was further irritated at having arrived so late, because the conversation proved to be so interesting. I'd forgotten how much I liked these people. The conversation ranged from why we can't return to the Gold Standard (and the macro economic theory behind it), to how the best solution for the Euro crisis would be for Germany to quietly withdraw (not that it will ever happen). And we talked about how the modern era, when we live now, is the best time to be alive in history, just from a nutrition and health perspective. Apparently in his day, George Washington was considered to be a giant at 6'1" tall, which is utterly average for men in this day and age.
I also had a good rant with a friend of mine who works for the Justice Department (he laughingly calls himself "al-Qaeda's lawyer" since he defends inmates at Guantanamo Bay) about how stupid people who work in government can be (he related a hilarious story of a paralegal screwing up three times the fact that the cover of a brief needed to be blue), although I had a few anecdotes of my own to share about some of the people I work with who don't understand maths.
Most of all, just intelligent, interesting conversation with people who were so thoroughly engaged in the conversation, and kept saying, "I'm so glad you came." Such a difference from my time in Norwich!
Friday, 13 July 2012
Friday the 13th
Maybe there really is something to this day being bad luck, as this was definitely not my day!
The day dawned cold and rainy, and I showered and got dressed, hopeful for a fresh start after my incredible irritation at CBDG the day before.
We went to a local cafe for a fry-up for breakfast, where he surprised me again by saying that he didn't want to have kids, that he just didn't think he'd have the patience for them. Now, it's not like I'd ever seen him as a realistic relationship prospect, but there was more to it than that. I'm always deeply suspicious of people who don't want to have kids, and particularly in this instance, the more he spoke about it, the more selfish and self-centred he appeared. I kept trying to cajole him and keep the conversation light about it, but I was surprised as to what an ugly side of him I was seeing. Really, just not flattering in the least.
I shook that off, and we went to the train station, where I changed my ticket for the next day (which would turn out later to be a mistake) to catch a later train. I went and found CBDG, who had excitedly just bought a copy of "Railway" magazine. No, I kid you not. Such a thing exists.
Okay, so everybody can have their little enthusiasms, even if I find them somewhat strange. What killed me though, was that it quickly became apparent that he intended to sit there reading his new magazine, while totally ignoring me. Did I mention how pissed off I was getting at this boy?
So it came time to catch our train, and I was then utterly surprised when he introduced me to a random guy in the station, saying it was his father. Hadn't known he would be there, on that train, but there he was. Although it had me wondering, "How on earth do you not know when your father, who doesn't live anywhere near you, is going to be in town?"
I tried to shrug off the weirdness of this, and so we got on the train with his father. His father seemed to be a man of few words, but I can charm the pants off anyone if I put my mind to it, so I set about making his father like me. A bit of hard work, but slowly he did warm to me.
I was then surprised when, halfway through our journey, he suddenly said that we should jump off the train. Turns out that we were at some coastal town, and so we went for a walk down to the ocean. It was nice to breathe the salt air, even if British beaches always do seem too cold and done up with their tatty piers for me. Still, it was nice, and we stopped in at an arcade at one point, where he got us each a bucket of 2p coins, and we played some of the games. Kind of dull to be honest, but relatively cheap entertainment. He was much better at them than I was, although pretty quickly I was reminded of why I'd never liked these games, as I hated losing money like that.
We then went for a walk along the pier, took in the rescue lifeboat stationed there, and then walked back to catch the next train (there was only one per hour) to the beer festival. We got to the platform a bit early, and so sat for a while talking about how his father had started out as a 16-year old high school drop-out (with only two GCSEs, was how he put it), and by working as a ticket agent, had met his mother (at least a high-school graduate, she had a few A-levels), and slowly worked his way up to a decent standard of living. As we talked, it became apparent how little we had in common, at least in terms of our family backgrounds. Although, given how many times over the past 24-hours I'd wanted to yell at him for something or other, "How stupid are you?" I now worried that I really wasn't dealing with the brightest bulb in the box. And now I knew where he got it from.
Okay, but onward. We went up to this beer festival, which was taking place along a historical railway platform. It was actually kind of cool, as they had this railway station done up just like it would have been back in the day, complete with "ladies waiting rooms" and everything. The beer festival was a thing where you could buy pints or half-pints of tons of beers (only £1.50 for a half-pint, which we got a ton of), and then you could sit on an old-fashioned train on the platform to drink them. Lots of old men sitting by themselves, but I was determined to make a game effort of this.
So we got a few half-pints of interesting things here and there, until we were joined by his father, at which point we bought a few spare pints and went on our steam engine ride.
That was actually rather interesting, as the steam rolled over the scenery around us, so it almost appeared as though we were travelling through clouds. We got all of the way to the end of the tracks, at which point they had to uncouple the engine, bring it around and put it back on the other end of the train. Kind of fun and neat, particularly given that all of the engine workers were dressed in old time costumes, just like they must have worn back in the day.
We then went back to the beer festival, drank a lot more, and I pretty much ignored CBDG, who was seriously pissing me off at this point (drinking so rarely improves men's characters), and had fun chatting with his father who really seemed to be opening up and liking me at this point (although the beer probably helped). I wondered aloud why on earth CBDG had asked me up here, and his father replied, "Maybe he fancies you. You should ask him what the deal is." Hmmmm....
It finally came time to leave, but we decided to stop and quickly get some Chinese food before our train. We were in such a rush, that as we were running across the street to go catch the train, I tripped and totally ripped my knee open (the good one, thank goodness) which hurt like hell. Second time now I've killed my knees while spending time with CDBG. The boy obviously results in me getting quite a few skinned knees!
On the train ride back, we were sitting near some Spanish people, and I can't remember how it happened, but I ended up chatting with them in Spanish. And they were wondering what the deal was with us, and I had to explain that I didn't really know. All I knew was at this point I was totally ticked off at this guy, my knee hurt like hell, and I was wondering why on earth I'd come up here in the first place.
So perhaps ill-advisedly taking the advice of his father, as we walked out from the train station, I was rather tipsy, angry, and annoyed, and just had to know: "What on earth is your deal?"
The precise wording of his reply escapes me, but it was essentially that he had no romantic interest in me (not like I did in him either at this point), and just otherwise avoided the question, and we lapsed into incredibly awkward silence. Ah yes, I'd forgotten that I was dealing with an incredibly young, immature, dumb and stupid boy here. Completely avoiding the question would have seemed like a good idea to him.
I felt like pressing him further on not just the sexual interest question (I was now really just becoming curious if he was gay or straight or just weirdly asexual), but I was quickly discovering a serious downside to my confrontation strategy: Rather than getting everything out in the open and on the table, things were now EXTREMELY awkward. Hum. Maybe should think about that next time. Don't force a confrontation when you still have 12 hours to spend with somebody.
Still, as a friend later said to me, "At least you called him on it, and didn't just let him get away with that sh*t". And you know what? I have to admit, as awkward as it all was, and how much his quasi-rejection stung, I have to say overall it was a good thing. I now regret the time I spent on him in the past, but at least you can be sure I won't be wasting any more time on him in the future.
Another friend said to me, "What do you have to lose? It's not like you ever have to see him again." So true. He's not part of my friendship circle, he doesn't even live in London, cutting the ties can be done incredibly efficiently. And so, I think that confrontation was good, because it so readily enabled me to just give up, to say, "screw this, I don't need it."
So we got home, I went to bed, e-mailed some girlfriends the whole ridiculous saga, and turned over to go to sleep. What an arse, but soon he'd be out of my life...
The day dawned cold and rainy, and I showered and got dressed, hopeful for a fresh start after my incredible irritation at CBDG the day before.
We went to a local cafe for a fry-up for breakfast, where he surprised me again by saying that he didn't want to have kids, that he just didn't think he'd have the patience for them. Now, it's not like I'd ever seen him as a realistic relationship prospect, but there was more to it than that. I'm always deeply suspicious of people who don't want to have kids, and particularly in this instance, the more he spoke about it, the more selfish and self-centred he appeared. I kept trying to cajole him and keep the conversation light about it, but I was surprised as to what an ugly side of him I was seeing. Really, just not flattering in the least.
 |
| Inside the historical train carriage |
 |
| The hallway outside the old first class compartments |
So it came time to catch our train, and I was then utterly surprised when he introduced me to a random guy in the station, saying it was his father. Hadn't known he would be there, on that train, but there he was. Although it had me wondering, "How on earth do you not know when your father, who doesn't live anywhere near you, is going to be in town?"
I tried to shrug off the weirdness of this, and so we got on the train with his father. His father seemed to be a man of few words, but I can charm the pants off anyone if I put my mind to it, so I set about making his father like me. A bit of hard work, but slowly he did warm to me.
I was then surprised when, halfway through our journey, he suddenly said that we should jump off the train. Turns out that we were at some coastal town, and so we went for a walk down to the ocean. It was nice to breathe the salt air, even if British beaches always do seem too cold and done up with their tatty piers for me. Still, it was nice, and we stopped in at an arcade at one point, where he got us each a bucket of 2p coins, and we played some of the games. Kind of dull to be honest, but relatively cheap entertainment. He was much better at them than I was, although pretty quickly I was reminded of why I'd never liked these games, as I hated losing money like that.
 |
| Old fire brigade buckets |
Okay, but onward. We went up to this beer festival, which was taking place along a historical railway platform. It was actually kind of cool, as they had this railway station done up just like it would have been back in the day, complete with "ladies waiting rooms" and everything. The beer festival was a thing where you could buy pints or half-pints of tons of beers (only £1.50 for a half-pint, which we got a ton of), and then you could sit on an old-fashioned train on the platform to drink them. Lots of old men sitting by themselves, but I was determined to make a game effort of this.
 |
| There's a reason it's a "steam" train! |
That was actually rather interesting, as the steam rolled over the scenery around us, so it almost appeared as though we were travelling through clouds. We got all of the way to the end of the tracks, at which point they had to uncouple the engine, bring it around and put it back on the other end of the train. Kind of fun and neat, particularly given that all of the engine workers were dressed in old time costumes, just like they must have worn back in the day.
We then went back to the beer festival, drank a lot more, and I pretty much ignored CBDG, who was seriously pissing me off at this point (drinking so rarely improves men's characters), and had fun chatting with his father who really seemed to be opening up and liking me at this point (although the beer probably helped). I wondered aloud why on earth CBDG had asked me up here, and his father replied, "Maybe he fancies you. You should ask him what the deal is." Hmmmm....
On the train ride back, we were sitting near some Spanish people, and I can't remember how it happened, but I ended up chatting with them in Spanish. And they were wondering what the deal was with us, and I had to explain that I didn't really know. All I knew was at this point I was totally ticked off at this guy, my knee hurt like hell, and I was wondering why on earth I'd come up here in the first place.
So perhaps ill-advisedly taking the advice of his father, as we walked out from the train station, I was rather tipsy, angry, and annoyed, and just had to know: "What on earth is your deal?"
The precise wording of his reply escapes me, but it was essentially that he had no romantic interest in me (not like I did in him either at this point), and just otherwise avoided the question, and we lapsed into incredibly awkward silence. Ah yes, I'd forgotten that I was dealing with an incredibly young, immature, dumb and stupid boy here. Completely avoiding the question would have seemed like a good idea to him.
I felt like pressing him further on not just the sexual interest question (I was now really just becoming curious if he was gay or straight or just weirdly asexual), but I was quickly discovering a serious downside to my confrontation strategy: Rather than getting everything out in the open and on the table, things were now EXTREMELY awkward. Hum. Maybe should think about that next time. Don't force a confrontation when you still have 12 hours to spend with somebody.
Still, as a friend later said to me, "At least you called him on it, and didn't just let him get away with that sh*t". And you know what? I have to admit, as awkward as it all was, and how much his quasi-rejection stung, I have to say overall it was a good thing. I now regret the time I spent on him in the past, but at least you can be sure I won't be wasting any more time on him in the future.
Another friend said to me, "What do you have to lose? It's not like you ever have to see him again." So true. He's not part of my friendship circle, he doesn't even live in London, cutting the ties can be done incredibly efficiently. And so, I think that confrontation was good, because it so readily enabled me to just give up, to say, "screw this, I don't need it."
Thursday, 12 July 2012
First Day with CBDG
I wonder in retrospect whether I should have noted that going up to see someone on Friday the 13th was perhaps foreboding that things were going to go badly wrong. But, let's go ahead with the disasterous tale of my visit to CBDG....
I skipped out of work early to catch the 15:30 train, and worked the entire journey up. Got quite a bit accomplished actually, and chatted with CBDG on Skype the entire trip. Met him at the train station, where randomly we ran into his boss. Talked to the boss briefly, and then he took me on a walk through town, whilst he carried my bag (very gentlemanly of him). It was actually a sunny day, and the town was very picturesque, with a cathedral in the middle, a river running through it, and winding side streets with charming little houses.
We stopped at a pub, the Adam and Eve, which claimed the distinction of being "possibly the oldest pub in Norwich", founded sometime around 1249. With a founding date that early, you do realise that the definitiveness of the claim could indeed be in doubt, although since it was just around the corner from the Cathedral hospital, founded at about the same time. Although it does make you wonder what sort of medical care they were providing in 1249. Probably more likely to die than be cured if you went there.
We sat out in the sunshine, chatting about his upcoming move from Norwich, and his plans to move on to Birmingham. That, and the people who consistently went on the exact same ghost tours around Norwich on a weekly basis.
We walked to his flat, which was a tiny terrace house that he shared with his flatmate, who I met later on. Obviously flamingly gay, giving kisses to his friend who he'd just been out for dinner with, and confusing me yet again about CBDG himself. But more on that later.
The flat reminded me of a house my friends in Cambridge had lived in, and made me once again wonder who on earth the architect was who had designed a house in such a poor manner. You walked in to a tiny square of a mudroom, and had to squirm to turn right and enter the actual living room of the house. The front window, being set so far back, cast very little light into the room, which was a dark cave. You then walked through to the kitchen, passing the stairs on your right, which were angled at such a steep pitch (at least 45 degrees if not steeper), that going up and down was more like climbing a ladder than stairs). The kitchen was nice enough, although then weirdly there was a back corridor, until finally the bathroom could be found at the very back of the house. (Some research online somewhat explains this, as the houses were originally built without bathrooms, but rather only outhouses in the back gardens. So I suppose when they finally tacked on bathrooms, they had to go in the only place there was space for them, where the outhouses had originally been).
After dropping my gear, we headed out for dinner, stopping first at a local pub for another couple of pints. I was the only girl in this place besides the barmaid, although despite the "rough and ready" look of the place, I have to say that everyone inside was quite friendly. Which was a good thing, as I was extremely irritated when he took a phone call as we sat there, just chatting away right in front of me, leaving me staring at the walls and feeling embarrassed that I'd come all this way and here he was not paying attention to me. Had two pints of the local brew, before heading out for dinner, where I noted with surprise that every store in the area closed at 6 PM.
We had a nice enough dinner, where I was surprised to learn that he often went to church by himself (without any parents making him go), and went for the hard-core Anglo-Catholic style of worship. I hadn't expected a hard-core religious type, and I gamely did my best to keep conversation going, although it was often like pulling teeth.
Finally we returned to his flat, and he set about changing the sheets in his bedroom (where I would sleep), and arranging himself down on the sofa downstairs. I'd been surprised by this at first, but figured he didn't want to be presumptive, and thought perhaps as we settled in to watch some comedy, that he might use that opportunity to make a move.
Yet I was to be faked out yet again when he shooed me off the couch into a chair across the room to sit by myself, leaving me beyond irritated at this point. It was beyond him not making a move (I was too pissed off anyway at this point to have gone for that, I was very ticked), it was just the lack of consideration for the effort I'd made to come see him. I was doing my best to be cheerful, charming, pleasant company, and I felt like something close to an imposition, when he'd been the one to invite me up there. So, having had enough of this, I grabbed my things, took over his room (damn right, at least I'll be the one with a real bed), and went off to bed. Goodness, how much longer to survive this weekend?
I skipped out of work early to catch the 15:30 train, and worked the entire journey up. Got quite a bit accomplished actually, and chatted with CBDG on Skype the entire trip. Met him at the train station, where randomly we ran into his boss. Talked to the boss briefly, and then he took me on a walk through town, whilst he carried my bag (very gentlemanly of him). It was actually a sunny day, and the town was very picturesque, with a cathedral in the middle, a river running through it, and winding side streets with charming little houses.
We stopped at a pub, the Adam and Eve, which claimed the distinction of being "possibly the oldest pub in Norwich", founded sometime around 1249. With a founding date that early, you do realise that the definitiveness of the claim could indeed be in doubt, although since it was just around the corner from the Cathedral hospital, founded at about the same time. Although it does make you wonder what sort of medical care they were providing in 1249. Probably more likely to die than be cured if you went there.
We sat out in the sunshine, chatting about his upcoming move from Norwich, and his plans to move on to Birmingham. That, and the people who consistently went on the exact same ghost tours around Norwich on a weekly basis.
We walked to his flat, which was a tiny terrace house that he shared with his flatmate, who I met later on. Obviously flamingly gay, giving kisses to his friend who he'd just been out for dinner with, and confusing me yet again about CBDG himself. But more on that later.
The flat reminded me of a house my friends in Cambridge had lived in, and made me once again wonder who on earth the architect was who had designed a house in such a poor manner. You walked in to a tiny square of a mudroom, and had to squirm to turn right and enter the actual living room of the house. The front window, being set so far back, cast very little light into the room, which was a dark cave. You then walked through to the kitchen, passing the stairs on your right, which were angled at such a steep pitch (at least 45 degrees if not steeper), that going up and down was more like climbing a ladder than stairs). The kitchen was nice enough, although then weirdly there was a back corridor, until finally the bathroom could be found at the very back of the house. (Some research online somewhat explains this, as the houses were originally built without bathrooms, but rather only outhouses in the back gardens. So I suppose when they finally tacked on bathrooms, they had to go in the only place there was space for them, where the outhouses had originally been).
After dropping my gear, we headed out for dinner, stopping first at a local pub for another couple of pints. I was the only girl in this place besides the barmaid, although despite the "rough and ready" look of the place, I have to say that everyone inside was quite friendly. Which was a good thing, as I was extremely irritated when he took a phone call as we sat there, just chatting away right in front of me, leaving me staring at the walls and feeling embarrassed that I'd come all this way and here he was not paying attention to me. Had two pints of the local brew, before heading out for dinner, where I noted with surprise that every store in the area closed at 6 PM.
We had a nice enough dinner, where I was surprised to learn that he often went to church by himself (without any parents making him go), and went for the hard-core Anglo-Catholic style of worship. I hadn't expected a hard-core religious type, and I gamely did my best to keep conversation going, although it was often like pulling teeth.
Finally we returned to his flat, and he set about changing the sheets in his bedroom (where I would sleep), and arranging himself down on the sofa downstairs. I'd been surprised by this at first, but figured he didn't want to be presumptive, and thought perhaps as we settled in to watch some comedy, that he might use that opportunity to make a move.
Yet I was to be faked out yet again when he shooed me off the couch into a chair across the room to sit by myself, leaving me beyond irritated at this point. It was beyond him not making a move (I was too pissed off anyway at this point to have gone for that, I was very ticked), it was just the lack of consideration for the effort I'd made to come see him. I was doing my best to be cheerful, charming, pleasant company, and I felt like something close to an imposition, when he'd been the one to invite me up there. So, having had enough of this, I grabbed my things, took over his room (damn right, at least I'll be the one with a real bed), and went off to bed. Goodness, how much longer to survive this weekend?
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
Late Night Work
I was supposed to go out to a pub quiz tonight with Zhan, but at the last minute got really caught up with work, and then it started pouring rain, so I thought better of that idea.
As I was e-mailing back and forth with my boss, the Tall South African called, a name I'm always happy to see pop up on my screen. He was apparently wandering around a series of netball courts, looking for which one his friend was playing on, and having no luck finding them. So he'd called me for entertainment as he walked and searched, having very little luck as he wasn't wearing his glasses, and so could barely see 5 metres in front of him. Very hard when you're looking for a friend on the netball courts!
So we ended up talking for over an hour, just about total nonsense, and me figuring out my usual role after asking about his day and realising he had nothing to share, complain, or moan about. So he was just looking for entertainment, and I did my bit of telling funny stories.
I mentioned to him that I hadn't heard from CBDG in a week, which had me rather nervous as I'm due to go up and stay with this guy in two days' time. Kind of weird talking to the Tall South African about CBDG, but I find that the more honest I am with the Tall South African, the easier it gets. Conversation just flows, as we seem to understand each other better. What's between us is between us, and sharing the other parts of our lives doesn't really impact our own bond. And he actually listens and remembers and takes an interest, unlike the Young Dutchman who doesn't seem to have much time for my personal life. I've said before that the Young Dutchman is my Dean Moriarty to my Jack Kerouac, that blazing ball of energy who is almost too much to be controlled, but who makes everything around him more interesting. As the famous quote goes, Kerouac talking about Dean:
"...and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"
The Tall South African, by contrast, has the quieter sense about him, that isn't quite as witty or as funny or as entertaining, but somehow just seems that much more true.
And so, quite amusingly, after an hour on the phone with me the Tall South African had to hang up for a bit, and almost immediately CBDG popped up. Apologising for having been out of touch, as he'd been swamped with work, but wanted to confirm my train times.
To my surprise, true to his promise the Tall South African actually did call me back later (he sometimes forgets). And he was lying in bed, falling asleep with exhaustion, but still chatting to me and laughing as I told him he had been right about CBDG being busy. He chuckled, and reminded me that boys really aren't all that complex.
He was yawning so much, I finally had to let him go, as much as I wanted to keep talking to him, knowing that he would never hang up with me first. At the end of the day, he's always the boy who I want to talk with most...
As I was e-mailing back and forth with my boss, the Tall South African called, a name I'm always happy to see pop up on my screen. He was apparently wandering around a series of netball courts, looking for which one his friend was playing on, and having no luck finding them. So he'd called me for entertainment as he walked and searched, having very little luck as he wasn't wearing his glasses, and so could barely see 5 metres in front of him. Very hard when you're looking for a friend on the netball courts!
So we ended up talking for over an hour, just about total nonsense, and me figuring out my usual role after asking about his day and realising he had nothing to share, complain, or moan about. So he was just looking for entertainment, and I did my bit of telling funny stories.
I mentioned to him that I hadn't heard from CBDG in a week, which had me rather nervous as I'm due to go up and stay with this guy in two days' time. Kind of weird talking to the Tall South African about CBDG, but I find that the more honest I am with the Tall South African, the easier it gets. Conversation just flows, as we seem to understand each other better. What's between us is between us, and sharing the other parts of our lives doesn't really impact our own bond. And he actually listens and remembers and takes an interest, unlike the Young Dutchman who doesn't seem to have much time for my personal life. I've said before that the Young Dutchman is my Dean Moriarty to my Jack Kerouac, that blazing ball of energy who is almost too much to be controlled, but who makes everything around him more interesting. As the famous quote goes, Kerouac talking about Dean:
"...and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"
The Tall South African, by contrast, has the quieter sense about him, that isn't quite as witty or as funny or as entertaining, but somehow just seems that much more true.
And so, quite amusingly, after an hour on the phone with me the Tall South African had to hang up for a bit, and almost immediately CBDG popped up. Apologising for having been out of touch, as he'd been swamped with work, but wanted to confirm my train times.
To my surprise, true to his promise the Tall South African actually did call me back later (he sometimes forgets). And he was lying in bed, falling asleep with exhaustion, but still chatting to me and laughing as I told him he had been right about CBDG being busy. He chuckled, and reminded me that boys really aren't all that complex.
He was yawning so much, I finally had to let him go, as much as I wanted to keep talking to him, knowing that he would never hang up with me first. At the end of the day, he's always the boy who I want to talk with most...
Friday, 6 July 2012
EmRae's Birthday
In the afternoon, I got quite the surprise when after ages of not hearing from him, the Young Scotsman texted me out of the blue asking for my reactions to an article in the Evening Standard. The crux of it was that some ministers were saying that language requirements should be more stringently enforced for individuals wanting to become British citizens.
Now normally, I really get my hackles up about immigration policy, given that I do feel that there needs to be a path for hard-working immigrants who want to contribute to the economy to settle permanently in a country. I'm always reminding my friends who rail against immigration that I'm an immigrant, to which they often reply, "Oh, I don't mean immigrants like YOU!" (Right. You mean non-white, poor immigrants).
Yet, the article did at least make a reasonable point, which is that individuals who can't understand English at their citizenship ceremony seem to be poor candidates for citizenship. So we got into an interesting back-and-forth about the need to speak English to make a contribution to society... Turned into quite a funny and interesting debate over text, made all that much more surprising for how out-of-the-blue it was.
Then in the afternoon, the Tall South African called for a quick chat, asking me how things had gone on Saturday. I didn't have much time to get into it, but just told him that it went "weird". Particularly as I've heard almost nothing from CBDG since. Strange talking to the Tall South African about CBDG, particularly when I don't know what to say about it myself.
In the evening, I headed out to my friend EmRae's birthday party in South Kensington, although as I was heading there, got a message on FB from Kellogg Boy's girlfriend, saying she hoped I would come out to the Lansdowne that evening. Argh. I wish people would invite me to stuff with a bit more advance notice, don't they realise that I have plans?
Still, at the party, I had a good time chatting with people, particularly my friend Cookie, who let slip a few secrets that absolutely had my head spinning.
Cookie was originally supposed to get married this past April. The church was booked, the dress was bought, and she owned a flat together with her fiancée, a guy she'd been with for seven years. Then all of a sudden, right before Christmas, he suddenly announced he didn't want to get married any more. She was totally blind sided. So that was a mess. I saw her through that, trying to be supportive and a good friend, but as you might imagine, suddenly carrying a mortgage by yourself, returning the dress, cancelling the church.... No question, she had a rough go of it.
Now normally, I really get my hackles up about immigration policy, given that I do feel that there needs to be a path for hard-working immigrants who want to contribute to the economy to settle permanently in a country. I'm always reminding my friends who rail against immigration that I'm an immigrant, to which they often reply, "Oh, I don't mean immigrants like YOU!" (Right. You mean non-white, poor immigrants).
Yet, the article did at least make a reasonable point, which is that individuals who can't understand English at their citizenship ceremony seem to be poor candidates for citizenship. So we got into an interesting back-and-forth about the need to speak English to make a contribution to society... Turned into quite a funny and interesting debate over text, made all that much more surprising for how out-of-the-blue it was.
Then in the afternoon, the Tall South African called for a quick chat, asking me how things had gone on Saturday. I didn't have much time to get into it, but just told him that it went "weird". Particularly as I've heard almost nothing from CBDG since. Strange talking to the Tall South African about CBDG, particularly when I don't know what to say about it myself.
In the evening, I headed out to my friend EmRae's birthday party in South Kensington, although as I was heading there, got a message on FB from Kellogg Boy's girlfriend, saying she hoped I would come out to the Lansdowne that evening. Argh. I wish people would invite me to stuff with a bit more advance notice, don't they realise that I have plans?
Still, at the party, I had a good time chatting with people, particularly my friend Cookie, who let slip a few secrets that absolutely had my head spinning.
Cookie was originally supposed to get married this past April. The church was booked, the dress was bought, and she owned a flat together with her fiancée, a guy she'd been with for seven years. Then all of a sudden, right before Christmas, he suddenly announced he didn't want to get married any more. She was totally blind sided. So that was a mess. I saw her through that, trying to be supportive and a good friend, but as you might imagine, suddenly carrying a mortgage by yourself, returning the dress, cancelling the church.... No question, she had a rough go of it.
But then she started dating this new guy, and although I'd never met him, things seemed to have returned to a more even keel. All was well.
Now, this past week, apparently her ex-fiancée has realised he made a huge mistake, and wants to get back together. Understandably, she feels like she'll never be able to trust him again, but it's not easy to throw away seven years of history. And plus, there's this new guy, right?
Except it turns out that he's married with kids. Yet, he wants to leave his wife for her. She, understandably, although she likes this guy, is just getting to know him, and doesn't want him to throw away his marriage unless she's sure that she's ready to step in and be a stepmom and take responsibility for an instant family.
She was asking me for advice on what to do, and I kept joking that she should invest in soybean futures, because the truth is I had no idea. On the one hand, there's a part of me that says she should run, as fast as she can, from a married man. Sure, there are all of the excuses, like he married in his 20's and has stayed with his wife for the sake of the kids, but hasn't had a reason to leave before. And there are kids involved.
Yet then what is she supposed to do? Go back to her ex-fiancee? In many ways, that seems like the better option to me, as it would just make things so simple. No worries about buying him out of the house, they could go back to having the wedding, and no worries about throwing away seven years of history. Yet, as she pointed out, how could she ever truly trust him again? I have to admit, it's a pretty major betrayal when a guy asks you to marry him and then backs out of the wedding three months in advance. What a mess.
I guess though it goes to show, that people in relationships don't necessarily have it any better than those of us not in them. I was surprised when talking to EmRae, who was celebrating her 30th birthday, that her boyfriend was over 40, and yet had put up a huge fuss about giving her a key to his flat, and after a year and a half of dating, didn't really seem to want to move things forwards. Given how pretty and fun she is too (and how NOT he is), this surprised the heck out of me. Makes my own love life seems so simple by comparison...
After drinking and talking for a while, we hit one of those natural end points, where we'd finished our wine and Cookie seemed to want to head home. After figuring out that the Young Dutchman was still at the Lansdowne, I hailed a cab, dropped Cookie at South Ken station, and made my way to the Lansdowne.
I was surprised on arrival to see that the Young Scotsman was there, which was quite fortuitous given our conversation that morning. Kind of hilariously, I could tell that he was having difficulty trying to look anywhere but at my chest (I've long known that part of the female anatomy is a weakness of his), but still did seem to enjoy my conversation.
I also found myself talking to Kellogg Boy and his girlfriend quite a bit, and spent a while standing with Kellogg Boy, with him having an arm wrapped around me. I have to admit, we must make an interesting foursome, as Kellogg Boy always seems so frequently to end up chatting with me, and his girlfriend so frequently with the Young Dutchman, and we're all quite affectionate with each other. Yet, if I can think of anyone whose embrace felt more brotherly, it would have to be....my brother! But very sweet, just hanging out and spending time with them. As in the end, although I'd ostensibly come to see the Young Dutchman, I barely ended up speaking to him at all!
I was also surprised to see a friend I used to play polo with there, and we caught up for a while about polo, and then I just went back to talking to the Young Scotsman for a bit. At last it was time to head home (past it, actually, as it was already 12:30 AM), and so I made my way to the bus stop with Kellogg Boy and his girlfriend, and caught the night bus home. It's been a while since I stayed out late enough to do that, but it was good to have a fun night out!
She was asking me for advice on what to do, and I kept joking that she should invest in soybean futures, because the truth is I had no idea. On the one hand, there's a part of me that says she should run, as fast as she can, from a married man. Sure, there are all of the excuses, like he married in his 20's and has stayed with his wife for the sake of the kids, but hasn't had a reason to leave before. And there are kids involved.
Yet then what is she supposed to do? Go back to her ex-fiancee? In many ways, that seems like the better option to me, as it would just make things so simple. No worries about buying him out of the house, they could go back to having the wedding, and no worries about throwing away seven years of history. Yet, as she pointed out, how could she ever truly trust him again? I have to admit, it's a pretty major betrayal when a guy asks you to marry him and then backs out of the wedding three months in advance. What a mess.
I guess though it goes to show, that people in relationships don't necessarily have it any better than those of us not in them. I was surprised when talking to EmRae, who was celebrating her 30th birthday, that her boyfriend was over 40, and yet had put up a huge fuss about giving her a key to his flat, and after a year and a half of dating, didn't really seem to want to move things forwards. Given how pretty and fun she is too (and how NOT he is), this surprised the heck out of me. Makes my own love life seems so simple by comparison...
After drinking and talking for a while, we hit one of those natural end points, where we'd finished our wine and Cookie seemed to want to head home. After figuring out that the Young Dutchman was still at the Lansdowne, I hailed a cab, dropped Cookie at South Ken station, and made my way to the Lansdowne.
I was surprised on arrival to see that the Young Scotsman was there, which was quite fortuitous given our conversation that morning. Kind of hilariously, I could tell that he was having difficulty trying to look anywhere but at my chest (I've long known that part of the female anatomy is a weakness of his), but still did seem to enjoy my conversation.
I also found myself talking to Kellogg Boy and his girlfriend quite a bit, and spent a while standing with Kellogg Boy, with him having an arm wrapped around me. I have to admit, we must make an interesting foursome, as Kellogg Boy always seems so frequently to end up chatting with me, and his girlfriend so frequently with the Young Dutchman, and we're all quite affectionate with each other. Yet, if I can think of anyone whose embrace felt more brotherly, it would have to be....my brother! But very sweet, just hanging out and spending time with them. As in the end, although I'd ostensibly come to see the Young Dutchman, I barely ended up speaking to him at all!
I was also surprised to see a friend I used to play polo with there, and we caught up for a while about polo, and then I just went back to talking to the Young Scotsman for a bit. At last it was time to head home (past it, actually, as it was already 12:30 AM), and so I made my way to the bus stop with Kellogg Boy and his girlfriend, and caught the night bus home. It's been a while since I stayed out late enough to do that, but it was good to have a fun night out!
Monday, 2 July 2012
The Internet Date
Over a year after Joel had first encouraged me to sign up for internet dating, I finally had plans to go out on my first date. I was a bit suspicious, as this guy had barely e-mailed with me before suggesting meeting up for a drink, but he'd been persistent, and we finally had a day to meet. He seemed funny and responsive enough over text, so why not give it a go?
I made it to the 5th floor of Waterstone's bar, and was sitting at the bar when he arrived. First impressions were good: I mean, you hear all of these horror stories about how it turns out the person used a 10-year old photo of themselves, or that when the guy said he was 6-feet tall, he was really stretching the truth about 5'7". However, this guy was just as cute as his photo, really fit, and honestly 6-feet tall. We were off to a good start.
And as we talked, I found him to be really smart, funny, and interesting. We had a great time, staying for two drinks at the Waterstone's, getting into a good debate about the Euro and the underlying causes behind its collapse. Good political debate across a range of topics, from the future of Africa (his father is South African, his mother is Kenyan, making me wonder what it is about me and South Africans), to how much money charities waste. We were having so much fun talking, that we moved on to dinner, and continued quite a lively debate until they kicked us out of the restaurant. I really had loads of fun and he paid for everything (although since the place we went was cheap, I don't feel too badly about that).
Now back to the drawing board to try again!
I made it to the 5th floor of Waterstone's bar, and was sitting at the bar when he arrived. First impressions were good: I mean, you hear all of these horror stories about how it turns out the person used a 10-year old photo of themselves, or that when the guy said he was 6-feet tall, he was really stretching the truth about 5'7". However, this guy was just as cute as his photo, really fit, and honestly 6-feet tall. We were off to a good start.
And as we talked, I found him to be really smart, funny, and interesting. We had a great time, staying for two drinks at the Waterstone's, getting into a good debate about the Euro and the underlying causes behind its collapse. Good political debate across a range of topics, from the future of Africa (his father is South African, his mother is Kenyan, making me wonder what it is about me and South Africans), to how much money charities waste. We were having so much fun talking, that we moved on to dinner, and continued quite a lively debate until they kicked us out of the restaurant. I really had loads of fun and he paid for everything (although since the place we went was cheap, I don't feel too badly about that).
And yet.
When it came time to part ways,he must have sensed the complete lack of sexual chemistry, as he gave me a polite peck on each cheek and I walked to Totteham Ct Rd while he walked to Picadilly. And I'm still wondering, "Why on earth can't I be into a totally awesome guy?"
I keep trying to pick apart little things to figure it out, like the fact that he had trouble maintaining eye contact (although to be fair, I know I do that at times, it's a bad habit), or that his voice cracked at times. But whatever it was, it just all added up to the whole of me thinking that he was an awesome guy, but yet somehow missing that "je ne sais quoi".
At least the feeling turned out to be totally mutual, as the next day he texted me:
"Lovely to meet you last night. Would happily meet again but don't think the chemistry is there I'm afraid, sorry. Good luck with it and maybe see you around sometime."
I was so amused I just wrote him back straight away:
"You sensed it too, eh? Glad to know we're on the same page. I guess that's why it makes sense to meet up straight away, as you were right, a cheeky glass of wine will tell you more than a million emails ever could! No worries, had a fun time regardless, hope you did too..."
I think he was so relieved he came right back with: "Definitely. Was going to add that if either of us had a spare ticket for theatre etc sometime it would be good to keep in touch."
Well, it's nice to know that my powers of perception aren't totally off, and I figure at least I made a new friend out of it! Chemistry is a fickle thing, isn't it?
Now back to the drawing board to try again!
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