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...