In the morning I got up, did some cleaning, and saw that Qatari Boy had written to me at 2 AM the night before. I have to say, for as much as things haven't worked out there, why is he always still around?
I sent him a message back, but had signed out and was on my way to yoga class when he wrote me back. What timing! So I wrote back and forth with him as I walked along, until finally I had to sign out, as it was time for class. But keep 'em wanting, I guess...
It was a good class, where I discovered that one of the exceptionally talented yoga students in the class (who I'd long known was a dancer) was actually appearing on Strictly Come Dancing that evening. Who knew I went to yoga class with celebrities?
After class, I had to run home to do a quick change for my afternoon date. I had originally been supposed to meet the Tall South African right at the end of class, but he was running late, I think due to The Blonde's influence. (He told me later that the one thing that really bothers her is when people make jokes about her constantly being late to things. Yet it's quite possibly her defining characteristic, she is almost never on time to anywhere. So how can you get mad when people tease you about something that is so clearly true?)
We met at the Tube station, and then went to Green Park to grab a coffee (well, tea for me). We spent a lot of time talking about how bothered he is by how many people The Blonde has slept with before she slept with him, and how many things she's done in her past that bother him. And I was a bit puzzled, saying, "Well, it's not like you haven't slept with even more people and done even more insanely crazy sexual things," to which he pouted, "Yeah, but it's only really okay if a guy does it." I pressed him on this blatant double-standard, which he acknowledged wasn't fair, but was still how he felt. Indeed, as much as we might argue about the injustice of a double-standard for men and women, it doesn't change the fact that this is often how people feel, and we can't change that.
It was funny, because normally when he comes to London we spend so much time together, but now he was just squeezing in 45 minutes for me. Yet, he spent a lot of time talking about how that frustrated him, as he wanted to see more of me, but yet when in a new relationship you have to spend a lot of time with the other person. There just aren't enough hours in the day.
I was disappointed our time together had to be so short, because of this online date The Blonde had set me up on. I really wanted to just skip it, but I had to go, so at 4 PM the Tall South African dropped me at the meeting point, and I met up with the Frenchman.
We had agreed to meet at a particular Tube station exit, and so once we met and identified each other, we started walking along, where he spent the entire time complaining non-stop about his flatmates. It was like going out with Eyore, just the constant bitterness and whining. I was wondering if I was going to have to deal with this negativity for the entire time, but you know me, I was trying my best to be my bright and perky self. After all, I had to at least stick this out for a little while...
We got to Shepherd's Market, where he pointed to three pubs on the square and said, "We can go there, there, or there." No enthusiasm for any, no real plan, just a sense of, "As long as we have to do this..." Still, I gamely pressed on and picked one, where we found a high table near the fire, and it all seemed nice enough.
When ordering drinks we got two glasses of wine, the bartender told him that there was a minimum on cards, and so why didn't he start a tab? Which he did, but then he had a tab card. Which he proceeded to play with nervously as we sat there. Like seriously, he was playing with it so much that twice it fell on the floor, but each time he got down, picked it up, and went back to nervously fiddling with it.
So, he was nervous. I suppose a lot of boys are, but how to make him settle down and relax? I suppose I'm just more self-confident than most people, and so don't suffer from this problem, so I was doing my best to set him at ease. Yetwe were struggling for topics of conversation, until I finally hit on the fact that he regularly reads the New York Times. (I read the New York Times so religiously, that I got a free year's subscription once because I was in the top 100,000 NYTimes readers in the entire world). Thank goodness, something to talk about!
And so we were talking about various articles we'd read recently in the Times, and got into a discussion about the affair of General Petraeus (today's front-page news), and other famous affairs (like those of Clinton, DSK, Spitzer, and so forth), and the differing French and American attitudes towards their philandering politicians. At this point I was really thinking, "Okay, so there's no chemistry here, but at least we might as well have a nice conversation about the NYTimes".
He was still nervous, but starting to calm down after the second glass of wine. However I was about to discover why he had told me earlier that he was teased at work for not being able to hold his alcohol.... In retrospect, when he went for the third glass of wine, I really should have stopped him. But since I was feeling fine (I'm just a more practised drinker, I guess!), I didn't really think it would affect him that much. So you can imagine my surprise when he went from nervous-to-drunk in the blink of an eye.
I was tipsy (3 glasses of wine on an empty stomach), but not nearly as bad off as he was. He was very, very, very obviously drunk. I then thought that perhaps if I sipped my wine very slowly, that would give him time to sober up? (He'd downed his 3rd glass in the time it had taken me to have two sips). At this point I really just wanted to get out of there, but at least once I finished my glass, we had a good excuse to leave.
And then, as we're walking down the little alleyway that led to the pub, he suddenly, quite unexpectedly, stopped me, grabbed the back of my head and kissed me. Full-on, tongue down the throat make-out session. I was caught so by surprise, I'm afraid I just sort of dumbly stood there, it was all so unexpected. I mean, what do you DO in that situation?
In the cinema films, the girl always slaps the guy for being too forward, but I just couldn't even process what was happening. It was all so sudden, so rough, and so unexpected. Although he was going for the full-on make-out session, I was just desperately trying to figure out how to get out of it, while also acknowledging that I was in a somewhat darkened alleyway with this guy.
So I just pulled back, giggled awkwardly, and blathered on about how I have work tomorrow, while desperately trying to move us along so that I could make it to the Tube and say good-bye to him. At least I'd already confirmed that he he was going on the Picadilly Line, although when parting at the station, he grabbed me in for one more passionate kiss, as I was just thinking, "Damn, less teeth and tongue!"
Ugh. I just didn't know how to stop it, other than to just get away from this guy and go brush my teeth as soon as possible.
At last he was off to his part of the Tube, and since the Tall South African had told me to call when I had escaped, I exited the station and gave him a call. I recapped the evening for him, he laughed his head off, and then stayed out there in the cold talking to him for about another hour about how clueless men can be, faking orgasms, his sex life, and just a thousand other inappropriate topics. Made me miss not having more time to catch up with him earlier, as I do have to admit we talk more honestly with each other than almost anyone else. Continued the conversation online when I got home, as we debated whether this might prove to be a good end to my online dating career!
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