Halloween Drinks

This evening was the "Last Wednesday of the Month" drinks at the club, which lately have really been well-attended and going from strength to strength.  Maybe 40-50 people attended in the end?  At one point we took over the entire bar, which was really neat.  I love how many people keep wanting to show up, and how many new people there are each week.  

When I arrived, first I had to sort out my bill, as I accidentally left the club after drinking whiskey with the Tall South African without paying my bill!  The bar staff just laughed at me however, and seemed to find it all terribly amusing.  

Otherwise I was doing my usual "Younger Member's Chairman" thing, going around talking to everyone.  And there was this young chap there who claimed to only ever be at the club to play squash, he'd never been to an event "upstairs" before.  And he was cute and good-looking, and I was being my usual clever and witty self, charming the pants off the boy (as I so often do).  And so he was getting a distinct twinkle in his eye, when he asked me how long I'd been living in London.  When I told him "five years", he just burst out without thinking, "My goodness, you must be OLD!!"

At least as soon as he said it, he seemed totally mortified upon realising what he'd just said, and upon hearing how old I actually am, protested, "Well, I was so surprised because you certainly don't look it!"

The Tall South African laughed and laughed when I told him the story the next morning, and added, "To be fair I thought you were 25 for ages!!!  Then you told me about your degrees so I was like ok, maybe 27".  

Man, some days it really sucks being over 30!  (Because he sure was cute!!  Alas, only 25 years old...)

I sorted out Kellogg Boy's application to the club by getting a good friend to sign for him (who had never met him), and then dropped that off on my way out of the club.  At which point I discovered that I had missed a call from the Young Dutchman just 10 minutes prior, but when I tried to call him back, I got no answer.

I then hopped in a cab over to the Caledonian Club, as they were having drinks as well, and although it was late, I thought I might as well stop in.  Once there, I was greeted by the Young Scotsman, who told me I was looking lovely, as he always does.

I was most surprised though, when a French girl came up to me, and instantly recognised me, remembered where I worked, and knew a ton about me, whereas I couldn't even recall having met her ever before.  Apparently we'd met a party I went to in August hosted by a French friend of mine.  When I remarked on how on earth she had recognised and remembered me, she told me, "Well, you do look quite striking."  What an interesting compliment.

I also found myself in quite an interesting conversation with a guy I've always liked and respected, but who I haven't caught up with in quite a while.  And we somehow got on to the topic of careers, at which point he asked, "You don't work for Google?  For some reason I thought you did already."  And then upon hearing that I was still working for my existing company, proceeded to lecture me on why it was such a waste of my time and talents.  He may have a point.  

Finally caught the last train home, having not had a single drink at the Cally, but think overall that's a good thing!  

Coming Clean At Last

In the morning, I woke up to call my gym to sign up for yoga class, and then went back to bed.  (Hey, I'd been out quite late the night before!)  Then given that the class started at noon, I figured I'd actually better get up and go!

Class was good, and I appreciated the opportunity for a good stretch.  Although when I checked my phone as I got out of class, I saw I had a text from the Tall South African saying, "Call me when you get out of class."  So I called him, and he expressed some disappointment that I hadn't called sooner, until I explained that the Sunday class was 1.5 hours, not just an hour.  Which seemed to mollify him, although then gave me no time to go home and change, as he wanted to know if I could meet him at Knightsbridge in 20 minutes.  

(This is how you know our relationship is truly platonic.  I hadn't showered yet this morning, wasn't wearing any make-up, and was in sweaty gym kit, but still agreed to go out and meet him directly.  With any other boy, I wouldn't dare show up looking so ragged!)

We met in Knightsbridge and then debated about where to go, checking out one pub and then another, before deciding to walk all of the way to Gloucester Road to go to a burger place we like.  Along the way, he talked to me about The Blonde's efforts to set me up on online dates, and saying how he would do such a better job of it if he were in charge of it.  

We had a lovely lunch, complete with stellar milkshakes, which I convinced him to get.  Funny, because although my head had been fine, he was apparently suffering a bit after last night's partying.  Yet those milkshakes cleared it all right up.  

We talked a bit about his fledgling relationship with The Blonde, and I was a bit horrified when he decided to demonstrate how devoted to him she was.  He picked up his phone and called her, making noises about how maybe he wouldn't see her again this evening, given that she had plans to go out that night anyway.  Instantly, she offered to cancel everything and come right back home to see him.  I was stunned, and sort of felt like throttling The Blonde.  What on earth was up with that?

Indeed, when I pointed out that he'd originally said he was going to go home the night before, he told me, "Oh, it wasn't her who convinced me to stay at all, it was YOU.  You have to realise, I don't do anything because of what she says.  You're the only girl who has that kind of influence over me."  Kind of a surprise, really.

Then we left the restaurant and did some grocery shopping (as I had no food at home), while he trailed me around the supermarket.  Had a good laugh when one of the store clerks couldn't reach something on a high shelf and asked the Tall South African, "Sir, would you mind helping me?"  It was hilarious, as the thing that had been totally out of her reach even if she jumped for it, he just calmly reached up and picked off the shelf right in front of him.  I joked, "You ARE useful for something!"  He is tall, after all...

We then caught a bus back to my place, where he spent the entire ride talking through his guilt about dating two girls at once.  Feeling like he was treating them badly.  I really didn't know what to say to him, as I truly don't know what the answer is, other that to break up with both of them and be miserable and alone by oneself.  

We came back to mine, where I made him some coffee, and then set him up on my sofa with a laptop to watch some television while I went and took a shower (as I had to go out for dinner that evening).  He truly seemed to enjoy himself, and I really just had a good time post-shower, combing my hair, hanging out with him, watching silly videos and sharing jokes.  As he put it before, sometimes the two of us just need time to hang out, just the two of us, one-on-one.  

Finally however, I had to leave to go to my dinner, and he had to go home.  So we took the Tube together, and we said our good-byes along the way.  Good to see him, because I'll miss him during the week ahead.  

Yummy dessert photo

I arrived at the restaurant, which turned out to be a much more high-end place than I had anticipated, and instantly made me wish I had re-thought my outfit.  Nothing to be done about it however, so I gave the name of the girl who had made the reservation, and went and joined her, while we waited for my Irish friend.

The night before, when I'd seen the two of them together, I'd wondered a bit about their relationship, but all was cleared up when one of the first things my Irish friend did during dinner was to announce, "Well, with turning 30, I've really had an opportunity to take stock of my life and who I really am, and I think it's time I start coming to terms with living as a gay man."

Now, I had long suspected that this friend was gay, but the only thing that held me back from outright declaring it was the fact that I have terrible gaydar (I miss it often), and what kind of guy doesn't know by the time he's 30 that he's gay?  But it was funny to me, how much of a relief it was for ME to finally have that one out there.  As for so many years, I felt like I couldn't truly be friends with him, because he wasn't being totally open and honest with me.  I'm so grateful that he felt he could tell me, and now I feel like our friendship is stronger than ever, now that he's being honest with himself and with me.  

My rose petal lychee cocktail at dinner was so pretty I had to take a photo of it.

We then started chatting about dating and meeting people, it made me grateful for the fact that at least, as much difficulty as I have with figuring out what boys want and who is attracted to me, I'm still at least dealing with 90% of them going my way.  How difficult it must be to be gay, dealing with all the usual nonsense of relationships, as well as then the additional hurdles of societal acceptance and just figuring out which of the 10% you can date!  

I then also learned about the girl, who had just broken up with her fiancée at Christmas and was getting back on the dating scene.  Goodness, everyone else's complicated dating lives sort of make me appreciate my tremendously boring one!  

Finally, we parted ways and I headed home, glad that even while I wish more interesting things happened in my dating life, sometimes at least it's quite straightforward!  

Drinking Whiskey

The birthday boys

In the morning, my alarm went off at 8 AM so I could go to a class at the gym, but after only 4 hours of sleep, there was just no way that was happening.  

I woke up again when the Tall South African texted, we both apologised for ignoring the other the night before (I hadn't even said two words to him!) and I agreed to meet him and The Blonde out at Oxford Circus once I'd had a shower.  

I met the two of them out shopping, which was a much more fun activity for them than it was for me.  I really could care less about shopping, to be quite honest!  So I was glad then when we left the shops after making a few purchases to go and get coffee.  I had tea and a pain au chocolat at a cozy little chocolate cafe, while we talked about schooling and what we'd studied during our formative years.  

We then walked back to Harrods (the Tall South African's favourite store), and after a bit of a wander there, decided to go grab some dinner at Wagamama.  Good thing, as at this point I was starving.  We joked and laughed quite a bit through lunch, with the Tall South African and I exchanging our usual jokes.  I later found out that this upset The Blonde a bit, as we were talking about the Tall South African's history with women, which she felt as "the girlfriend", she shouldn't be hearing about.  In his mind however, given that he's not really sure if they're dating, it didn't bother him.  Oh, the mixed messages!

We then broke up our little crowd to head home to change for our evening adventures.  I agreed to meet the Tall South African back at the club, while The Blonde would go to a friend's birthday, and we would all reconvene at the party in Clapham we were supposed to go to later.  

The Tall South African took forever to get going, and I eventually just left to go out to the club whilst texting them both constantly to get a move-on.  It was only later when I saw the Tall South African that he laughed and told me they'd been having a quickie, which is what had caused the delay.  Ah yes, I could see how that would get one behind schedule!

The Tall South African and I had ostensibly said that we would meet back at the club to have a whiskey tasting lesson, although in truth it was as much an excuse to have time for just the two of us.  We'd been talking about it on the phone throughout the week, how as much fun as we have when we are out in groups, we also really need time for just the two of us to catch up.  Somehow, we really need our "alone together" time more than anything else.  

Still, I was determined to teach him about whiskey.  He joked about how he was a man learning about whiskey from a woman, which was an unusual turn of events, but he was keen to learn, and I have to admit at this point in my life I do know a lot about whiskey, so I was keen to share my passion for it.  

First it was Bowmore vs. Highland Park, learning to appreciate the smoky peat of an isle Islay whiskey vs the sherry-casked sweetness.  He'd previously declared himself to be a Laphroig fan, so I wanted to make him aware of what makes the isle Islay whiskies so distinctive. 

We had those over at a table in the bar, but then one of the club staff came in, saw me, and when I mentioned the fire, they started the real fire going in the grate in the bar, so we moved to big leather chairs to continue talking.  A lovely blonde girl I know also arrived to meet a friend for drinks before dinner, but since he wasn't there yet, she joined us a bit for the whiskey lesson.  

Then it was on to Laphroig vs Bowmore, the two isle Islay whiskies, before finishing with Glenfiddich vs Glenmorangie.  I took him through learning to taste, to pick out the distinct flavours, to add a few drops of water and appreciate the new flavours revealing themselves, and he really seemed to be understanding how complex and unique whiskies are, and what makes so many single malts so fascinating to drink.  

Finally, we settled on the Bowmore as being our favourites, so I got two double-measures, and we sat in front of the fire talking for ages, having settled the whiskey question and now talking about life.  He was a bit confused, as he'd finally slept with The Blonde the night before, but confessed that the sex hadn't been as great as he'd been hoping for.  I laughed and explained to him that he was again making a mistake I'd seen him make before, confusing a sexually forward girl for a self-confident one, and pointing out to him that while all women have their insecurities, a woman who is a bit free with her sexual favours is one who usually is trying to reassure herself of her attractiveness to men due to her insecurities.  

I admitted that I even have my insecurities, given that I wish my stomach was flatter, which prompted him to vehemently reassure me that I should have no such concerns.  "Do you understand how sexy you are?  You have curves!  So many girls have girlish figures, but you....you look like a woman.  Trust me, you should never underestimate how attractive you are."  

And then this led to a conversation we've had before, about why we're not together.  Everyone I speak to seems to think that one of us (usually me) must be lying when I claim that we're happy as we are, that we have a complete, total, and honest understanding with each other.  And so we talked about how we each do find the other attractive, and how we probably would have a lot of fun if we were sleeping together.  But how I haven't given up on finding a guy to marry and have kids with, and we're just too far apart in age for that to happen.  Which made him laugh and say, "If you're over 40 and still single, right before it's too late, trust me, we'll get together and have a kid together."  

It made me laugh, because I hope to God we never get there, but it just so clearly lays out what is going on here.  I like him.  He likes me.  In fact, there is almost nobody in the world who we like quite as much, who we are as comfortable with, and on top of all of this we're even attracted to each other.  But it still isn't going to work, at least not right now.  And we know this, and are fine with it.  I know there are all these romantics out there who imagine that love will somehow conquer all, but I think we're both practical enough to know what we're dealing with here.  We still totally adore each other however, and how great is that, to meet someone who you like completely, as they do you?

We then moved on to having Old Fashioneds (even though I had to talk the bartender through making them), which the Tall South African confessed used to be his drink of choice.  And then we had two glasses of port, which we were convinced would be our last before we headed out to this party that we were now horribly late for.  

Yet, just then an Irish friend of mine popped into the bar with a few friends, and when he offered to get us each one more round of drinks, we couldn't resist but to stay and chat for a little while.  Finally though, it was 11 PM, and we were due at this party which had been going since 6 PM.  Definitely time to go!

We debated taking the Tube, but realising how late we were, I insisted that we just grab a cab.  It was only £20, and we thankfully made it to the pub in just 20 minutes, where we found everyone was just leaving to catch the final trains home.  I'd been texting the Young Dutchman the whole way there to reassure him that I'd almost arrived, and we got there just as he and Kellogg Boy where on their way out.  Yet I had spent so much time with them the last night, and will see them again at the weekend, and Canadian Balliol Guy wasn't even there, so I wasn't too worried.  

I also got a good laugh when I ran into the Young Scotsman, who had obviously been putting the moves on a girl a bit below his usual standards of attractiveness all evening.  She was quite settled on him for the evening, although when he saw me show up, he reacted with such surprise and delight to see me, you could tell this girl was suddenly quite concerned.  No worries, my dear, he's all yours for the evening...  I'll catch up with him later.

We only had time for one drink, we'd arrived so late, but did get a chance to talk to quite a few people in the short amount of time that we were there.  Luckily for us, the party continued back at the flat of the birthday boy, so we were able to continue on for that.  As we walked along, I caught sight of the Tall South African talking to Qatari Boy, which had me concerned, but I resisted the impulse to jump in to see what they were talking about.  (The Tall South African later told me it was mostly about him and The Blonde anyway, and nothing really about me.  So no worries then).  

Back at the flat, we had some cake and drinks, and was grateful when a girl spotted me drinking beer and got me a glass of wine instead, which was much appreciated.  Although both the beer and wine were terrible, such a comedown after the good whiskey we'd been having!  

The clocks were going back this night, and so when it reached 2 AM, and the clocks really went back to 1 AM, I decided it was probably time for me to head home.  When I indicated to Qatari Boy that I was leaving, he decided to walk me out, and was in such a hurry to make sure I didn't leave without him, he didn't even bother to grab his coat.  Then, because night buses are so far and few between at that hour, and we'd just missed the bus I would need to take me to South Kensington, he ended up standing outside with me in the freezing cold for 45 minutes.  We just wrapped our arms around each other and stood there in the cold, talking about nothing much of importance, but just enjoying being wrapped up with each other.  I kept offering to take different buses, but he insisted he would wait with me until the right one arrived.  Still, it was nice, just standing there with him, being close to him, cuddled up with my head resting under his chin.  I just liked being close to him.  Sure, things aren't going to work out with us (I told the Tall South African later that taking him home with me just never seemed like an option), but I still like him, and it's good for my ego to know he likes me.  

In fact, he was such a gentleman that I later learned since he'd wandered out of the flat without his coat or his phone, he got locked out of the flat, and everyone inside had already passed out, so he ended up having to stand out in the cold for yet ANOTHER hour until somebody could let him back in!  As he put it when he texted me about it, "The price of chivalry".  Ha ha!  It did really touch me though that he was willing to stay out so late with me, keeping me warm and waiting for the bus with me, even as I sent him back home to sleep alone.  

The Tall South African thinks that there's another girl in the picture, and he wants to be "good" and not hurt me.  I think the Tall South African is confusing his own situation with mine, but I definitely think that Qatari Boy might be acting out of some misplaced sense of loyalty, thinking he's doing the "right thing", but of course totally screwing up by doing so.  As for hurting me...Qatari Boy is waaaaaaaaay over-estimating his attractiveness if he thinks he can do that.  I like him, but definitely have a few other interests...

The saga of my night didn't end there however, as once I finally caught the right bus and got to South Kensington, I discovered that there were many fewer connections there than I'd first thought, but still thought I could catch a bus going to Hammersmith.  Unfortunately, while not paying attention, I got on the bus going the wrong direction, and ended up in Picadilly Circus back in central London!  

By the time I figured this out and got myself sorted out, it was 4 AM (5 AM if it hadn't been for the clocks going back!) when I got home.  What a mess!  It actually would have been faster if I had walked home!  Next time, I should definitely just take a cab....

Reading Poetry at 2 AM

Reading poetry at 2 AM

 After being on the phone with the Tall South African for much of the day (as opposed to every other day, I know), we agreed that he would come down in the evening and join me at the Lansdowne for drinks later on.  I'd already promised Piers the night before that I would meet him there, and then my dear friend, The Blonde, also asked if she could join.  (A friend has pointed out that I should stop using names wherever possible in this blog, so let's try out that one).  

I finally made it out at 7 PM, and joined The Blonde, Piers, and two others outside on the patio, where we basically just chatted and caught up on things here and there.  We ordered dinner and had a few drinks, and then when it was getting chilly outside, moved inside.  

As we were finding seats to sit down at, I suddenly noticed a familiar profile with his back to me.  It would have looked quite foolish if it hadn't been him, but I always seem to know, so I came up behind him and enveloped the Young Dutchman in a hug.  I'm always just so happy to see him.  

I then left him to finish his conversation, and instead moved back to join the crowd.  We were joined by an older guy who bought a bottle of champagne and shared it with everyone, which I thought was quite nice of him, although I was surprised when The Blonde then pulled me aside and said, "He's quite cute, don't you think?"  Ummm....not exactly.  Which rather concerned me, as on a lark recently I let The Blonde take over my online dating profile to write to men on my behalf.  She promised to only go for cute guys that I would find attractive, but if this was her standard of cute, then we might have a problem here.

As it turned out, my impressions of the guy turned out to be spot on when he started talking about what a Mitt Romney supporter he was.  I'm sorry but even if I had found him to be attractive, that would have undone it.  There is absolutely no way I could stand dating a Republican.  It's almost more repulsive than smoking.  

In the library

The Young Dutchman came back and joined us, and we got into a slight argument about how he was sure he'd told me about how we were having dinner in Oxford on Saturday, but I am quite sure that he never mentioned any such thing to me.  I wonder if that is part of our problem lately, as I miss him and feel like I never get to talk to him, but maybe he doesn't feel the same because he *thinks* he's talking to me but forgets he's had these conversations only in his head.  Luckily I still happened to be free for dinner on Saturday, so it was all fine, but it did annoy me.  I mean, I adore that boy, but I can't read his mind.

The Tall South African then arrived, but I didn't even get a chance to say hello to him, as The Blonde jumped up to say hello, and I just left her to it.  The two of them seem to have sort of reached an understanding as of late where they are sort of dating, and so of course The Blonde was keen to see her new "boyfriend."

I say "sort of", because the Tall South African is a more typical male: Wants to sleep with her, but not quite ready to jump headlong into a relationship, while she is.  Still, I figure it's for the two of them to sort out, and she was enjoying seeing him (it makes her happy to see him), so I left them to it.  Plus, the Young Dutchman had just informed me of some very interesting news:  Kellogg Boy and Canadian Balliol Guy were about to arrive!  I tried to keep myself from getting too excited, but I have to admit my ears perked up when I heard that Canadian Balliol Guy would be there.  

Indeed, after a bit, they both showed up, and just like The Blonde had hopped up to go talk to the Tall South African when he arrived, I jumped up to greet Kellogg Boy and Canadian Balliol Guy.  I was happy to see them.  

I was also happy to find that Canadian Balliol Guy was continuing his usual pattern of always catching my eye for the shared little inside jokes, just between the two of us.  And when the guys started teasing him about other girls, he caught my eye in an embarrassed and apologetic glance, as if to say, "I'm mortified that the guys are talking about this in front of you, and you know I'm not that bad, right?"

Apparently he had hooked up with a girl two weeks ago however, which is why the boys were harping on it, as apparently both the Young Dutchman and Kellogg Boy were taking a bit of umbrage that Canadian Balliol Guy had been having sex more recently than either of them, particularly given that prior to this, it had been about six months for Canadian Balliol Guy.  The Young Dutchman was particularly upset about his two-week dry spell, which is about the longest he's ever gone.

All of this just made me laugh, and with our shared glance I wanted to reassure Canadian Balliol Guy, "Don't worry, I still like you, but we're not dating, so why should I be at all upset about your other activities?"  Because the truth is, I'm pretty sure at this point that Canadian Balliol Guy likes me, at least on some level.  Yet he's not exactly looking for a girlfriend right now.  I mean, he's living with a friend, and then even had to get kicked out of the friend's place when Kellogg Boy's mother came to visit.  Still hasn't figured out what he's doing for a job, and is just entirely unsettled.  In fact, much like Qatari Boy (although hopefully without the crippling depression).  What is it about me that makes me go for unemployed guys sleeping on friends' couches?  Still, I like Canadian Balliol Guy, and was just happy to see him.  

Explaining a poem

I also was pleasantly surprised when a young French Texan showed up, who I had invited at the Tall South African's urging.  It was good to see him, and I was glad he showed up, if only because I know the Tall South African had wanted to catch up with him.  Although I was a bit surprised when out of nowhere he told me, "Your hair is looking really nice tonight."  You have to understand, he's not the type of individual to ever give compliments, much less to me.  I was even more surprised when both The Blonde and the Tall South African told me later, "You were looking amazing, you were getting lots of attention."  Yet I didn't notice any of it.  Was I truly that oblivious, or where was this attention coming from?  

Now, after all this socialising, I had originally been supposed to go to the birthday drinks of a friend happening nearby.  Yet, it was now nearly 10:30 PM and I still hadn't gone, so when the Young Dutchman said that he was going to pop over, I said I would go too, intending to pop out for just a few minutes so I would get credit for making an appearance.  I was so determined it was going to be a quick visit in fact, that I neglected to bring my coat with me.  

This turned out to not be the best idea, when it turned out that the bar was now charging cover for entry, and we couldn't get in.  The Young Dutchman then decided that we should all head to the Carlton Club for drinks.  I was going to run back to get my coat, but Kellogg Boy encouraged me to come along anyway, and wrapped me up tightly against him, keeping me warm for the walk.  I was still brutally cold and shivering, but at least managed to survive the walk with him.

Clueless and playing chess

When we got to the Carlton, we were fully inside and about to take our seats by the fire, when the club staff informed us that the bar was closed for the evening (and it wasn't even 11 PM!)  So, on to my club, perhaps?  I was quite glad that it turned out that my club was still open, and I got us a bottle of the club port.  We retired upstairs to the North Library and took turns playing chess.  Well, at least the boys did, turns out I have no idea how to play chess, and I have to admit I used other distraction techniques to avoid having to admit that I had no idea how to play.  I know, for a clever girl, it seems to be one of those things I should know, but simply have never learned.  I should learn some day...

As we were sitting there, Kellogg Boy put an arm around me, and I snuggled up into him, just relaxing and enjoying the banter and company, as we talked about which books we were most like, (I chose "War and Peace", a book that everyone claims to like, but find so intimidating they've never read it).  You could tell that Kellogg Boy had been a while without female company, given how snuggly and touchy-feely he was being.  He never means anything by it though, so I just relaxed to enjoy.  

The Young Dutchman however, was feeling a bit left out, and so started playing his usual game of "gay chicken" with Kellogg Boy, putting a hand on his knee and tickling him.  The two of them have such a "bromance" going on, that does seem startlingly romantic at times.  So I got up and moved to the opposite couch, sitting next to Canadian Balliol Guy.  Who did not even seem to acknowledge me until Kellogg Boy cajoled him into putting an arm around me and me teasing him to show some love.  I enjoyed that though, just leaning against his side, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, as we sat there giggling and telling stories.  It just felt very...comfortable.  

Hence, I was sad when the Young Dutchman broke up the party by suggesting we all move to the South Library, where there was a fire going in the fireplace.  I'd been enjoying being curled up with Canadian Balliol Guy, but I almost wondered in a weird way if that was exactly what the Young Dutchman was trying to break up.  It must have been my imagination, or was it?

So we retired to the South Library, where for some reason the Young Dutchman started reading passages aloud from books, which made me think that we needed to be reading proper poetry.  So I went back into the North Library (knowing that's where all the literature books are), and pulled out a few books of poetry, which I brought back into the South Library, and everyone began reading and occasionally reading passages aloud.  I enjoyed it when Candian Balliol Guy read, as he had a lovely deep timbre to his voice as he read, whereas the Young Dutchman always lapsed into his fake posh accent.  

But the thing that really slayed me, was when Canadian Balliol Guy, unprompted, turned out to be a fan of Robert Frost, my favourite poet.  I love it when that sort of thing happens, where you discover something about somebody you already liked, that you like too.  Just makes you convinced that perhaps there's some magic there.  

Yet, in practically the same breath, I took pause when Kellogg Boy made a crack implying that Canadian Balliol Guy was a Republican.  Now, I wasn't too keen on Canadian Balliol Guy when I first met him because he smoked, but then he quit.  So it was all okay, and that's when I first took notice of him, when I learned he'd quit.  But Republicanism?  That's a much worse offence than smoking...not sure about that one!  Let's just hope it was a joke, much like when Kellogg Boy was implying that Candian Balliol Guy didn't last that long in bed either.  I hope, anyway...

When I noticed that Canadian Balliol Guy had disappeared for a bit, I found him in the North Library, looking at more poems.  So I followed him in there, and we had fun pulling books off the shelves and reading poems to each other, just once again enjoying a bit of fun and alone time, just the two of us, how we often disappear from the crowds together.  Even when we are alone though, he never makes a move, so who knows how he actually feels then?  

Reading in the South Library

Kellogg Boy had then taken to writing poems for everyone, which he gave to us in sealed envelopes, saying we could read them later.  Canadian Balliol Guy wrote something on a scrap of light-blue headed paper, which led to quite a bit of teasing as he couldn't seem to figure out what he'd done wrong (even though he was in the midst of an entire crowd of Oxford people).  Canadian Balliol Guy then took to writing a poem on his own, which was quite frankly terrible (I decided to title it "Ghosts of Time", since he'd been unable to come up with his own title), but it was just so funny as we kept joking and talking and reading aloud.  One of those absolutely fantastic evenings that you sort of wish would last forever, simply because you're having so much fun.  

Finally however, it was 3 AM, and we figured it was time to head home.  Canadian Balliol Guy went off to Trafalgar Square to catch a night bus up to Chalk Farm, Kellogg Boy and Painfully Shy Guy (who had been with us this whole time) and I walked back up to Green Park, with Painfully Shy Guy graciously lending me his coat for the walk (I was sooooooo cold!), and then finally the two of them going off together while the Young Dutchman walked me back to the Lansdowne, where I was able to knock on the door and retrieve my winter coat.  Oh, how lovely it felt to finally be warm again!  

The Young Dutchman walked me back as far as his place, and then made me promise to text him my whole way home.  I finally got home at around 3:30 AM, texted the Young Dutchman to say I was home safely, and upon spotting Qatari Boy online, decided to chat with him for a bit.  Kind of just assuring him that I wasn't mad at him (given that we hadn't spoken all week), and laying some groundwork so that it wouldn't be awkward if I saw him at the party the next day.  Yet, by 4 AM I was way too sleepy, so I signed off with him.  

Mostly though, it was a good evening having some catch-up time with the Young Dutchman.  Goodness, how I have missed him..

Farmer's Club Dinner

With the chap who tuned organs at Westminster

This evening was a dinner at the Farmer's Club, the first Inter-Club event I'd been to in quite some time.  I hadn't been out all week, so was glad for the opportunity to get out again, and see what I'd been missing.

Getting a speech before dinner

I arrived a bit late, so only had time for one glass of champagne before dinner, and then we were called in for dinner.  They did a rotation for the men halfway through dinner, so I at first found myself seated next to a farmer (quirky young chap who I think was more used to crops than formal dinners), and secondly with a chap who was apparently working on tuning organs at Westiminster Abbey.  Quite peculiar, no hope for either, but fine enough to pass the time.  The food was the true star of the evening, where I had to admit that the menu of all-British produce was quite spectacular.

All was not lost on the company however, as I did find myself seated near a girl from the Club who had been at the Reverse Dinner two weeks ago, and was filled with praise for it.  We talked a lot about arranging seating plans, organising events, and plans for the club going forwards.  All in all, some pleasant conversation that got me excited about the year ahead, even if I was totally bored with much of the rest of the evening.

Finally after dinner we retired to the bar, and I made polite conversation with a few people, but I just had to confess, my heart wasn't in it.  Particularly given that I knew I had a gym session in the morning, I made my excuses, and headed home.  Perhaps excessively early to leave an evening before 10:30 PM, but I figured it was best to call it a night than just to stay and be bored!

Some of the crowds at dinner

Painting at the Brewery

Working at the brewery, INSIDE the vats!

Today, I'd agreed along with Matt that we would go help a friend from the running club who is setting up a brewery that we would go help him paint the place.  He's apparently rented space out on an East London industrial estate, and while it would take us over an hour to get out there, he promised to reward our labours with pizza and beer.  Sounded like a fun afternoon, and who hasn't ever wanted to see what happens at a brewery?  

Photographing the first hops (note the mess on the floor!)

I was running late in the morning, but I didn't know how late the entire journey was about to make me:  As I not only had to take the Central Line completely across town, but then I had to take a train at Liverpool Street.  And wouldn't you know it, I JUST missed the train I needed (like it pulled out from the platform right when I got there?)  Then, once I had caught the next train (15 minutes later), and caught a bus, I then spent 45 minutes wandering around the industrial estate, because the whole place was so poorly marked?  Yet, even arriving an hour after I'd originally intended, I still managed to get a lot of work done and had a great day, where I learned a lot.  They say that we learn something new every day, but after this experience, I think I've learned enough for the month!  Among the things I learned:  

Clearing out the mash from the first vat

1.  Industrial parks are filled with churches.

      Yes, while wandering lost around an Industrial Park for over 45 minutes, I encountered no less than 6 churches in the midst of active, energetic services.  All with names like, "New Covenant Directions Word of God Great Awesomeness Church".  Filled with African immigrants (you can always tell when they're true Africans, not just black Brits, as they wear such beautiful clothes, the women in amazing dresses with giant tied headscarves that tower at least a good foot above their head.  I have no idea how they do that, although I was too over-awed to ask).  And they're singing and dancing and shouting and all sorts of stuff for HOURS.  And everyone has somehow made it to a middle-of-nowhere industrial park in East London, picking their way among the Chinese takeaway supply houses, and auto-repair shops to go to church.  We listened to the church in the unit above the brewery praise Jesus for hours on end, and they didn't even seem to mind when we filled their church with steam from the brewing process.  (Ooops!)

Pouring in the hops

2.  Hops cause brewing tanks to boil over.  

      Everyone knows what happens when you add Mentos to Diet Coke, but did you know that when you add hops to a 900 litre tank of wort, you will experience a similar geyser of brown foamy mess shooting out the top?  When I arrived, I'd wondered why the guy who owned the brewery was wearing wellies, but I quickly learned.  The brewery floor quickly began to look like a fraternity basement, just a brown, sticky mess everywhere.

Looking for hops

3.  It takes a LOT of water to make beer.  

     Perhaps some of this was due to the fact that we obviously had some inexperienced beer-makers on our hands, but between the water shooting out of the top of the tank, the water needed to hose down the brewery floor to clean it up, and the water used to heat and cool the beer, I heard stats in the range of 3 litres of water to make every litre of beer.  Wow!

We kept joking it was like government work:  One person to do the work and lots of others to stand around!

4.  Beer mash is part of a wonderful virtuous circle. 

     While we were there, we had to shovel out the tank full of used beer mash that had been used to make the wort.  I asked the brewer what he was going to do with it, and he said that while he eventually hoped to make flour from it, for now it was going to a local farmer who was going to feed it to his cows.  So he pointed out to me that one day you could be drinking a beer and eating a burger, and the barley used to make the beer was then used to feed the cow for your burger, and also turned into flour for the bun of your burger.  So your entire meal, all from one source.  Amazing, eh?

Filling the room with steam!

5.  It takes quite a while to fill a 900 litre tank

     We finally had added the hops to the wort, cleaned up the over-flow, and were finally ready to empty it the beer into the 900 litre fermenting vat.  And then as it flowed in, at the reasonable pace equivalent to a tap running in your sink, we decided to calculate how long it would take at the current rate.  Filled a 1-litre jug, and then did some maths:  "FIVE HOURS???"  At that point we told the master brewer that it had been a great day and we'd had fun, but now we were going home!!

More steam!

More hops!

The Master brewer, really into his work

I'd been worried that when Matt and I finally left, it was going to be too late to buy groceries, given that I had no food at home.  However, it was just my good fortune that there happened to be a Tesco open at 5:45 PM on a Sunday in the middle of the City, so I dashed in and got a ton of food for dinner.  What luck!  Came home, made dinner, had a lovely call with Caroline, and enjoyed a nice evening in, tired after a day of hard work and lots of learning.

Frustrating Night

I didn't have many plans for this evening, except to perhaps meet Kellogg Boy for a drink at the Lansdowne, and perhaps see the Young Dutchman later when he'd returned from a business trip to Zurich.  So when Qatari Boy popped up to ask what my plans were for the evening, I highly encouraged him to come up with something better for me to do, and he said he would join me for a drink at the club later.

When I got out of the Tube at 7:30, Kellogg Boy had texted to say he had a headache and didn't think he was going to make it (I think influenced by the rain of the evening), and so I went to the club by myself.  I suppose it was a good night, in that it gave me the chance to catch up with a few people I hadn't really had a chance to talk to in a while, but it was overall quite a dull night, as the company was somewhat tedious.

It was the kind of night where I would normally have left early, but I was stuck waiting around for both Qatari Boy and the Young Dutchman.  Qatari Boy finally showed up at around 10 PM, although to be honest I didn't mind too much, as it saved me from having to introduce him to too many people.  Given that I don't think he'll be sticking around, that made things easier.  He commented again about how every time he turned around, people were greeting me, as I'm so excessively popular, but I don't know why that surprises him by now.  Everybody knows me and adores me, so why can't you figure out that you need to be better about getting my attention?

Finally at around 11 PM we headed out, and going the long way back to the Tube, we ran into the Young Dutchman just coming down the street.  I was so excited to see him, I wrapped him up in a huge hug and kiss, and he just hugged me and kissed me back in the incredibly tight and warm way that my brother does.  You know, where you squeeze each other so tight because you are so excited to see each other?

We only got to chat for a short bit, as he was nearly falling over himself with exhaustion, and I didn't really want to have to introduce Qatari Boy that much.  (As the Young Dutchman joked with me when he called me later on in the weekend, "I knew you were trying to be discreet about who you were heading home with, but it's me, so I think that's the one person you can trust to know your indiscretions".  How right he is...

He then declared himself to be a bit tipsy, so we walked to Bond Street to get some air before taking the Central Line back to mine. (I was surprised later when he kept saying that he'd never intended to come back to mine, leaving me wondering, "What kind of guy comes out to see a girl at 10 PM and DOESN'T expect to go back to hers?")  I later learned from Caroline (who had gone to The Chap's flat for dinner that evening), that he was still there when she arrived, and kept wandering around aimlessly and stopping to have drinks with the other flatmates, and it took all of her energy to get him out the door.  Why on earth did he need so much Dutch Courage, and why was he so reluctant to go?

Okay, so we got back to mine, a little kissy time on the couch, and then he apologised and said he was tired, would I mind if we just went to bed. Fine, and so we snuggled up in bed.

So we weren't going to have sex, but I still know how to bring a guy over the edge (even though he wouldn't let me touch him there, which I found kind of bizarre and weird), but I've got my talents anyway, and despite those restrictions, I left him a very exhausted, sated, happy boy. Okay, so my turn?

Nope, time to sleep. But I know men do this afterwards, it's some sort of biological trigger, so I'm not fussed. I'm happy to wait until he wakes up again, and when he does, now my turn?

Nope, now we talk, apparently. About life, about career possibilities, about the view out my window. We talk and talk and talk and talk. Finally he seems to be running out of steam. Now my turn?

Nope, now he wants me to play with him again, so I bring him over the edge a second time. But seriously, at this point, NOW my turn?

Nope, now we're going to talk again. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk....I've never known a man to talk so much!

Okay, it's now about 9 AM, and I'm exhausted, except not in the way I like to be! I try to keep it light, but I'm feeling VERY frustrated and hard done by. Still, I'm tired and fall asleep.

Only to be woken up by a fully dressed boy, apologising but he just can't seem to get any sleep here, so he's going to go. And I'm left feeling very, very irritated and frustrated! You know that Lily Allen song, "Not Fair"? Yeah, definitely feeling that right now. And as the refrain goes, "It's really not okay."

I think what bothers me most is that I realise not all guys are going to have the skills and experience of a great lover like Casanova, but you've got to make an effort, you know? Do SOMETHING, at least! Such a shame, as I find him attractive, but I suppose it's like men who complain about pretty girls who just lie there in bed. Looks will only get you so far, you know?

I found a note from him simply saying, "Thank you for a lovely evening.  Catch up soon" which almost seemed a bit insulting.  I didn't hear anything further from him until Monday morning, when he sent me the single line message, "I sincerely apologise for the weekend, I was in an odd mood and should have stayed in."

But no further word after that, and he didn't respond to any of my other messages.  Oh well, perhaps we're done here...

Off for a Run

This morning my phone buzzed at 6:45 AM, waking me up.  It was my personal trainer asking, "Are we on for 9 AM or for 10AM today?  I figure if it's 9 AM you might already be awake..."  

"Ummm...it was actually 10 AM, but I'm up now!  Want to do 9 AM?"

She had asked me at our last session if I had weightlifting gloves, which I brought along this morning, and I have to say, they made a real difference.  When the weights get high, they're really good to have!

Today's workout:

10 minute row (2100 meters)

10 minute run (intervals between 6kph and 9kph)

Incline chest press (25kg - 4 sets, 12 reps each)

Walking lunges (about 20-22 lunges down the hallway with a 10kg weight in each hand, down and back for approx 44 lunges total - 4 times)

Bench chest press (32.5kg - 4 sets, 15 reps each because I was showing off)

Sidestep squats down the hallway (holding a 10kg weight, do a side step, squat down, come up, step to the side again, all the way down the hall)

Straight leg deadlift (60kg - 4 sets, 12 reps each)

And then we got to the funniest part of the workout.  She said we were going to do calf raises, and so put 5kg weights on the machine.  When I got on and bounced up and down a few times, she said, "Wow, you really have a lot of definition in your calves!"  To which I replied, "Yeah, a childhood of riding horses.  We could easily quadruple this weight, you know..."  So she threw on 25kg weights on each side.  Still easy.  Another 25kg?  Yeah, still easy.  It became comical as she just kept wandering around the weights room, finding more weights to throw on.  Finally finished at 170kg (NOT a typo!) where I finally conceded that it was ever-so-slightly challenging.  4 sets, 12 reps each.

Finally finished with core, which totally schooled me from all my previous showing off...why is that particular exercise still so damn hard?  Barely managed to hang on for 60 seconds of plank.  Final stats: 920 calories burned, Avg HR 146, max HR 178.  In the end, I noticed my trainer spent nearly an hour-and-a-half with me, instead of just our usual hour session.  But I think she enjoys working with me, because I'll do anything she asks me and push hard the entire time.  And working with her, I actually enjoy it (as hard as it is!)

The hash run this evening was scheduled to be down in Balham, which is normally way too far south for me, but given that Matt, Cookie and Caroline said that they would all be there, I made the effort to go.  

I chatted on the phone with the Tall South African the entire way there, who was talking to me about his plans to come down the following night to talk to Caroline in person and tell her that he just didn't see them having a relationship right now.  Pity for her, but I do admire him for wanting to do it in person.  

I had scheduled myself to take a particular train, but it was so crowded that I was unable to get on it when I arrived, meaning I was running late.  As I was on the train, I was surprised then to get a text from Navy Boy (who I hadn't heard from in ages), announcing his engagement to a girl he'd often been seen with, but who he insisted was just a friend.  I felt bad as I know this girl and had promised her I'd write to her during her most recent deployment to the Gulf of Iran, but I'd been a terrible correspondent.  What on earth had I missed, that they were just friends when she left, and now they were engaged?  I didn't know what to write back, as the news was just so surprising!  

I finally made it to the pub, thankfully before everyone set off, and was able to join the crowds for the entire run.  58 minutes, 6.68 kilometers, except the "Map My Run" app that I'd been using to track my run failed to save my data, a hugely frustrating outcome of the evening!  Particularly given that I was so proud of myself for surviving the entire run, I'd really wanted to show off to my personal trainer!  

Once we were back at the pub however, it was good to be able to catch up with Caroline, Matt and Cookie.  We talked quite a bit about how Qatari Boy just doesn't have his sh*t together, and how frustrating that is for me, but perhaps a sign that I need to look elsewhere.  We actually agreed that Caroline would take over my online dating profile and see if she could set up dates for me, given that I'm so rubbish at it myself.  We'll have to see if she has any luck at it!  

I also got a bit of an update on Cookie's romantic life, as she's still having an affair with her married boss, although she suspects that his wife now knows that there's something going on (although not with her specifically).  I found it weirdly touching, that apparently most mornings, her boss gets up early at 5 AM, and goes to her flat, and climbs into bed with her to snuggle and sleep in those early hours before Cookie has to get up at 7 AM.  I remember early on in their relationship, he was reluctant to have sex with her, although apparently that's over now.  Of course, I'm not thrilled that Cookie is having an affair with a married man who might break up his family for her, but she does seem to still be trying to be sensible about it.  We'll have to see how this one turns out...

I found Caroline again talking about how much she liked the Tall South African, and knowing what was coming, I tried to caution her a bit.  "Imagine if you had a job that was pretty good, although it could use some improvement, and then you got a new job offer that sounded amazing, but you knew nothing about it.  Would you try to fix what you knew was wrong at your old job, which was very familiar and you knew what it was about?  Or would you take a risk on the new job?  You have to admit, a lot of people might be scared to make the leap to the new job."  Yet she didn't seem to hear it, simply saying, "I would take the new job!"  Oh well, I did try...

Finally, it was time to head home, so I walked back to the station with a random new guy who had apparently learned about our group through playing dodgeball with Caroline.  He seemed nice and was good company back to the station, where I just caught the last train home.  Phew, just in time!

Dinner at the Chap's House

Having left the Tall South African in the care of Caroline the night before, I was unsurprised when I didn't see him at all the next day.  I had plans of my own however, as on Friday, The Chap had sent me a random text, inviting me to dinner at his flat this evening.  Given that I've never really been particularly close to The Chap, I figured this was either Caroline's involvement (as she'd been encouraging The Chap to get to know me better), or this was his plan to give me another opportunity to connect with Qatari Boy.

I had suspected the night before that Qatari Boy didn't know I was coming, and didn't bother to enlighten him on that matter either.  So when I showed up, I greeted the flatmate who was cooking dinner, the sister of another flatmate who was visiting, and then went into the living room, where Qatari Boy was taking a nap on the couch.  I thought it a bit strange that he didn't wake at first, but at last the sound of my voice must have penetrated his conciousness, as he woke with a dazed and baffled look on his face.  I have to say, it was tremendously amusing...

He then kept commenting about how every time he had tried to talk to me the night before, there was some other man wrapping me up in a giant hug or trying to talk to me.  Apparently he'd never met anyone quite so popular.  I laughed, but was a bit puzzled, as I'd told him this repeatedly.  Parties are a terrible place to catch up with me, as too many people want to talk to me.  Why did he not believe me?  I guess he hadn't realised quite how popular I am with so many people...

The Chap showed up after a bit (he had been on a weekend away with the army), and then we sat down to dinner, where Qatari Boy made a special effort to sit next to me and be entertained by me all evening.  We had a lovely dinner though, and I stayed through two bottles of wine and some whiskey, as well as a live viewing of a man who was attempting the highest parachute jump in history.  I did have to remind Qatari Boy to refill my wine glass on a few occasions, as he didn't seem to be quite catching the fact that this was his job, although I think he was mostly stunned to see me there.

Finally, when it was around 11 PM and I realised the train stations would close early on a Sunday night, I resisted the entreaties of Qatari Boy to stay, and simply said, "Walk me out?" which of course got a few sniggers from the flatmates...oh how I hate having other people involved in your romantic life!

He walked me to the train station, where I teased him gently (I hope) about his failure to ask me out.  He then went to kiss me good-bye at the station, and while at first he went to kiss me on the cheek, I kissed him on the lips, and then we ended up in a full-on make-out session.  I often hate those people who make-out like that in public, but sometimes you can't help but be one of them!

At this point, I know there is absolutely no future in it, but I would like to have a bit of fun with him while it lasts.  He's cute enough, seems to think I'm the sexiest and cleverest creature alive, and even though he's rubbish about date-planning, kind of fun to spend time with.  He'll do for now, anyway...

Got home and the Tall South African called me on his journey home (he'd raced to my flat to drop off my keys and pick up his things before going), to say that he wished he'd come home with me the night before and just crashed on my floor.  As apparently Caroline had proceeded to spend the entire day (while he had a raging hangover), wanting to talk about feelings, their relationship, and "what he was thinking."  I had to laugh, because it was the stereotype of everything girls do with boys, and everything boys HATE about girls.  And I wonder, why after all of these years have we still not figured out how the other gender thinks?

Still, it made me laugh, and think about how easy it always is with the Tall South African.  If only Qatari Boy would take a page from that book!