Cards with Pork Pie

I had received a postcard from Pork Pie while he was in Nepal, off trekking there for a month, because that's the sort of thing he does.  It was so simple and sweet, saying simply, "Nepal is amazing.  You must visit.  Thought of you every day, obviously.  Love, [Pork Pie]".

I was reminded that it had been far too long since we'd gotten together, despite frequent admonishments that we should do drinks together.  So I insisted via e-mail that we needed to actually set a date to get together, not just talk about it.  I was surprised when he suggested getting together to play bridge at the club, saying that he would bring a guy if I would bring a girl.  So we set a date, I invited an American friend of mine, and we were all set.

I was running a tad bit late, but luckily when I arrived at the club, I found I'd arrived just at the same time as my friend, while the boys were already in the bar having drinks.  In the bar, we chatted for a bit, and just as I was about to go to the bar, I spotted across the room quite the surprise:  The guy I'd been on a weird date with over a year ago!  I can't recall when I'd seen him since, maybe it hadn't been since then?  It was really funny, as we did a quick double-take, sort of made a game of looking around the people in-between us, and then finally went and enthusiastically greeted each other.

He was there with a group of people from dental school, and so we chatted only briefly, but it was good to see him, I threatened to drag him away from his books to come for drinks more often, and he joked that he'd be fine with that.  Quite a surprise, although good to see him again.  What a strange coincidence!

After wrapping up my conversation with him (and Pork Pie teasing me about being so graciously politic, talking to the people I know everywhere), I got us all a bottle of wine from the bar, and then we trekked upstairs to find a table to play at.

Some older gentlemen were already playing at the tables in the North Library, but luckily there was a table free for us to play.  Pork Pie and I sat across from each other to make a pair, while my American friend and Pork Pie's friend made the other pair.

I hadn't played bridge since I was 18, when I learned how to play in my calculus class in school.  (A quirk of the US Northeast schooling system, the Advanced Placement exam is done in May, but school doesn't end until June, leaving us with a month with absolutely nothing to do in class, so our teacher decided that teaching a whole bunch of math nerds to play bridge was a good use of our time).  I could barely remember any of it, but I was quite excited when as Pork Pie explained the game, little bits of it kept coming back to me in bits and pieces.

I won't claim to have any great talent for card playing, but the more we played, the more I remembered how much I've always enjoyed playing cards.  I hate games like poker, which rely on chance and bluffing, but games like this, where strategic play can help win a game even with a poor hand of cards, are really exciting.  It's a challenge to try to count cards in your head, to figure out from the subtle cues of your playing partner how you're supposed to play it out, and just generally keep the mental game going while your brain is becoming addled by the wine you are drinking as you play.

Also, playing with Pork Pie, as he started talking about interesting books he was reading, starting political discussions, and just generally being the interesting and engaging man that he always is, I found myself pausing.  I've always had a great deal of affection for Pork Pie, and I know he for me too, but it's never quite seemed to work out, although I don't quite know why.  Some might not find him to be traditionally handsome, but I've always rather liked his solid, comforting figure that borders on a bit chubby, his blonde hair that leans towards ginger, and his few inches of height on me.  Since he went to Nepal, he's grown a beard too, that I absolutely love.  Don't know why, but it just gives him this wild, mountain man, rugged look that really does it for me.  He keeps threatening to shave it, but I keep begging him not to.  I just love how he looks with that beard.

So as we played in our partnership, he was obviously a much better player than I am, but we had a good time working out our bids, and when I was left to play the dummy hand, he praised me for how well I played it on my own.  And when my turn as the dummy came, I went to fetch another bottle of wine, which earned me the effusive praise of "I love you!" quite a few times.

Ah, but as much fun as Pork Pie and I were having, my American friend was being truly rubbish.  I was quite frustrated, as I'd promised to bring a girl who was good company, and this girl was acting like she'd rather be almost anywhere other than there.  She claimed she was tired, but even when I'm tired I can make more of an effort!  The boys, sensing her lack of enthusiasm, only redoubled their efforts to engage her, but alas, she didn't respond in kind.  I was becoming more and more embarrassed by this, as obviously our friends are somewhat of a reflection on ourselves, and I was thinking, "What must the boys think of me that THIS is the girl that I brought along, who is dragging the entire evening down?"  When I was moaning to Joel about it later, he laughed, "You basically brought along a drunk and bitter Bridget Jones!"  Oh dear, yes I did...

Finally, when it was quite apparent that my friend was losing patience for bridge, we switched to playing Hearts, which Pork Pie turned out to be distressingly good at, earning not a single point in all the hands we played.  Even extraordinarily good cards can't explain that, it's really a mark of skill to be able to do that.  I was suitably impressed.

At this point, after three bottles of wine and no dinner, we decided to leave the club to go out in search of food.  As we walked along, I found myself naturally slipping my arm in Pork Pie's, as we walked up towards Trafalgar Square, talking and laughing the entire time.  I'd forgotten how relaxed and easy it is with him...

Our original choice for dinner was no longer serving, but we managed to squeak in at a nearby burger place, where we managed to get burgers and milkshakes, which were delicious at that point in the evening.  We continued to joke and laugh throughout dinner, my American friend at least seemed somewhat placated by the fact that we'd gotten dinner, and Pork Pie kept making jokes that I was one day going to be a Baroness, as I was so wonderfully social and adept with people.  He even declared to everyone, "There would actually be nobody more perfect for me to marry.  One day I will wake up to find myself married to her, and all my problems will be solved."  It was a joke, but even I was finding myself remembering how well-suited we are in some ways.  Why had it never worked out again?

Finally, we were ready to head home, and my American friend went off in one direction with Pork Pie's friend, while Pork Pie and I linked arms and walked off in the other.  We talked and laughed the whole way, him talking about how he felt that his 30th birthday was coming up, and then laughing that I remembered exactly when his birthday was (as he hides this information from the world at large with a mis-direct on Facebook).  But of course I know this...how could I ever forget?  Finally at the station, when it was time for us to go our separate ways, we still just kissed on each cheek, even as he held me close and we lingered for a bit.

Ah yes, this is why it never worked out, because that man never quite knows what he wants.  Why was he off in Nepal?  "To find himself".  He loves me, but isn't quite ready to say if he wants me.  Still, it was a lovely evening, to remember that there is this boy out there who I truly and deeply desire.  I'd nearly forgotten...

February Last Wednesday Drinks

I need to start going out less.

After a full day of work, the first where my new job really started to make an impact, I had to race off to the club to host the usual "Last Wednesday of the Month" drinks.  I think I'm just not going to be able to make it to these quite as frequently in the future, they just take so much damn time.

Even as it was, but 8 PM, I was pretty bored, and should have used that as an excuse to go home.  Yet somehow I got pulled into conversation with even more people, and I did find myself chatting for a while with a neurosurgeon who was rather interesting, if not really my type.

Still, somehow it was 10:30 PM before I properly managed to escape, getting home too late and leaving me thinking, "I could really use some more sleep!  Time to start making that more of a priority...

Farringdon Run

Okay, so I'll admit, after Roofie's Brother had signed his last e-mail with "See you on Tuesday", I had gone to the run hoping to catch up with him.  As it turned out, nearly everybody else was there except him!  It was a great reunion, getting to see Princess, Matt, Kitty, Devo and others, but not the one boy I wanted to see.  And I was annoyed with myself, for even thinking like that, looking out for a boy, but I guess some boys get inside your head.

On the upside, Matt was there, who is always one of my favourite people to see.  I was glad to have a spare pair of gloves on me to loan him, which he seemed very grateful for.  The Blonde turned up too, for the first time in ages, and when we got lost towards the end of the run, we just set ourselves on a straight path and ran back to the pub.  It was a nice chance to catch up actually, as she told me about a new guy that she'd recently met, through Qatari Boy, of all people.  Apparently he'd actually gone to the same university she did, had been in the TA for a while and had gone to Afghanistan, was tall, good-looking, and desperately keen on her.  Where on earth does she find these guys?  Seriously, I need to learn how The Blonde does it, because she has guys desperate to get into relationships with her week after week, while I end up with the boys who endlessly fail to make a move.  I talked to her a bit about Roofie's Brother and my frustrations with how it isn't going anywhere, but I feel like she didn't really know what to tell me.  Indeed, I'm not sure if there's an answer there either.  If he wants to make something happen, I guess he will, but at the moment, it doesn't seem like he wants to.

When we got back to the pub, after there was no sign of Roofie's Brother even arriving late, I sent him a quick cheeky message about how he was undoubtedly stuck covering trading at his job.  Which got the reply, "I was :(  But your e-mail made me smile, so thanks.  Catch up soon.  x"  Nice, but...

At least I was able to take my mind off of things by chatting with Matt (always a favourite) and convincing him to stay for one last drink with me pre-circle time.  At the circle, they gave me a down-down for the fancy gloves I'd been wearing that allowed me to check my iPhone without taking them off.  (They've got fancy conductive tips or something like that).

After Matt left, I was sure I would leave pretty quickly afterwards, but somehow I got roped into having more drinks with Devo and Princess.  To my surprise, I spent quite a while talking to Princess, the first time we've really talked, just the two of us, in ages.  It was almost weird, because here was a guy I used to see every day, and then I realised I had no idea what was going on with him, or had really kept up on his life at all.  In fact, the thought going through my head most frequently as we talked was, "I once kissed this guy?"  It just seemed unfathomable now.

Princess must have been enjoying the conversation however, as he insisted on getting two more beers for myself and Devo, and somehow I ended up with this hideously awful banana beer that made me feel somewhat ill.  At least, I pretty quickly found an excuse to put it aside and escape back to the Tube, as at this point it was after midnight and I was worried about making it home.

I had taken a bus to get to the pub, but at this point I realised it was too late, the bus was taking too long and I was going to miss my train if I waited.  So I made a mad 20-minute dash through the streets to make it back to the Tube station, and caught one of the last trains at 12:20 AM.  Definitely need to learn to go home earlier, particularly when the guy I want to see isn't there!

Carlton Drinks

You know how sometimes you just need a German word to express what you mean?  After all, where would we be without schadenfreude, gemutlichkeit, or any of those words for which there is no English equivalent?  I really feel like there needs to be a German word (and maybe there is) for, "the discomfort of finding that you have gained entree and acceptance into an exclusive circle or group from which others are excluded."

This evening, I had been invited to drinks at the Carlton Club by this guy I had met some time ago, who always strikes me as being the most interesting of contradictions.  He's a suit-wearing lawyer, a member of one of the most prestigious and conservative clubs in London, while yet equally being the type who is really into hip-hop music and organising "rap battle" nights (a la Eminem in "8 Mile") in East London.

I don't get to see him that frequently, but I'm always pleasantly surprised at how he contacts me on Facebook quite often just to chat, saying that I'm one of the few "cool and interesting" people that he knows.  Hence, the invite for drinks was somewhat of a surprise, but then again, almost everything is with him.

When I got to the club, they're quite strict about having guests on the list to get in, and I discovered that he hadn't put me on it, although the guy at the front desk was very gracious about letting me go in and point out the guy I was meeting.

When I got in, the Carlton Rapper Guy greeted me enthusiastically, and immediately introduced me to other people there.  I knew one guy through my running club, although the others were all new faces.  Still, it was a good mix of an evening, talking to people and just having random and interesting conversations.

I even exclaimed at one point upon meeting a guy, "You're wearing a Balliol tie!"  I was then quite embarrassed to start a conversation so gauchely, but I still thought it was kind of cool to make that connection, and was the first time I've ever started a conversation with someone entirely based on their tie.  We actually connected again later, and it turned out to be quite a fortuitous meeting as I was able to advise him on travels in Latin America.  And here I'd thought that nobody really did networking based on old school ties like that...

I didn't get to talk to Carlton Rapper Guy as much as I'd like, but I still did have a good time talking to him about his upcoming travels to Texas, Louisianna, Tenessee and Duke (North Carolina).  I was also surprised beyond belief when he was able to relate to others there the exact story of how we had met, at a sherry tasting, and remembering details of the evening and me that even I had forgotten.  Now of course, I remembered the story because I'm a girl and I remember things like that, but for a boy, this was quite a surprise.  I wonder if our meeting made as much of an impact on him as it did on me.

Yet, I still got no impression from him that he had any romantic interest in me, just a real enthusiasm for my conversation and company.  I was laughing with The Blonde later about this, "Why do so many men like me for my brain and not my body?"

I have to admit, I think he's rather cute, but as I stood next to him, I found myself slouching a bit in my heels, as he's only my same height or a little shorter, if we're honest.

He also told stories about how he was organising a pub crawl the weekend after to an East London nightclub that even he was a bit scared to go to, and firmly said to me, "No, you are NOT allowed to come!"  I laughed at this, even as I took his point.  He might invite me to some random events occasionally, but even I know when I'm not street smart enough to go places.  I'm too much the lily-white, West London and Mayfair girl to really survive in some of the East London haunts he frequents.

On the whole, I had a really great evening, and was a bit disappointed when he left right before 10 PM, leaving me to stay and make conversation with the people remaining on my own.  Which is where I learned that the entire point of the evening had been that everyone had needed to bring a "cool, interesting person with social skills" to the gathering, which is how I'd made the cut.  Back to the point at the start of the entry, about how it was nice to have made this cut, and explained why I'd had such an enjoyable time talking to everyone I'd met.  No awkward, shy people were allowed.  And yet...  I just hate the idea of being so blatantly exclusionary, all of the cool kids getting together and deciding who is cool enough to be part of the group, and who is not.  I left feeling very conflicted about it all, even as I had to admit I'd suffered through more than my fair share of tedious evenings with dull and boring people, and could see why this group went to the extra effort to avoid them.  What a strange reason to gather a group together, with the express purpose of avoiding boring people.

Shortly after the Carlton Rapper Boy left, I could see no reason to stay further myself, on a school night, so I made my excuses to all those remaining and headed home.  An enjoyable evening, although I truly do hope I get to see Carlton Rapper Boy a bit more in the future.  Even if he has no romantic interest in me, I have to admit I'm never bored when talking to him.

Sunday

I love, love, love, love my Sunday afternoon call with the Young Dutchman.  I love how even though we don't officially schedule it, it's always there, the time when we set aside for each other to talk and catch up.  So when I saw my phone ring this afternoon, it was such a delight to see my favourite name come up...

We mostly just talked about work, my new job, and the cool nerdy stuff we're into.  We talked for an hour, filled each other in on the important stuff and the non-important stuff, and I just had to smile at how even when we're too busy for other people, we still always make time for each other.

I've said in the past that he's the Jack Donaghey to my Liz Lemon, that relationship that's totally platonic, not the person you marry, and not even the person you talk to most, but still the most important one of your life.  Where we don't even gossip and talk about stupid crap, but really just ideas and the interesting stuff that fascinates us.

Otherwise a slow day where I talked to a few other people on the phone, but mostly just enjoyed the one conversation with my absolute number one guy.  Even as other boys come and go, he always remains my favourite of them all.  If only I could ever find a boy who loves me as much as the Young Dutchman does!

Polo, Gold Cup, and 80's Party

At the 80's party with the girls

I can't believe I managed to stay out until 4 AM, as it was a long day...

In the morning, I had to get up reasonably early to go out to play polo.  I'd agreed to play as long as we played early, so before 11 AM I found myself standing out on a street corner in the freezing cold waiting for the Blonde Dutchman to pick us all up and give us a ride up.

When I got to the designated meeting spot, Sophie was already there, although looking quite worse for wear.  Apparently she had been out at some leaving drinks for work the night before, had gotten quite drunk, left her purse (with her keys in it) in a cab, then was unable to rouse her flatmates to let her in, and then spent the night on the sofa at her finance director's house.  Quite a mess.

She told me that the worst part about it was that she had a crush on her finance director, but she'd only ever spoken to him about business matters.  Apparently at this social party, they'd been chatting in the kitchen, and she suddenly realised that he spoke like a total working-class cockney, or as she put it, "He was just so not a PLU!"

This was hilarious to me, as I'd never actually heard anyone use that term in conversation, so casually like that, and of course implying that I was indeed a PLU (People Like Us).  I'm not sure how I feel about it, as it's just this incredible British class snobbery, where people can't break into the upper ranks because they're not PLU.  And I know it's ridiculous to try to deny that I'm not upper-class (dear God, I was on my way to go play polo, for cripes sake!), but I still get a bit uncomfortable when I get so distinctly labelled into it.  I might be upper-class, but I hope I'm not quite as snobbish about it.

Once we were totally frozen (it was actually snowing as we were standing there), the Blonde Dutchman showed up, and we went off to polo.  I actually purposefully sat in the back seat, in the hopes of being ever so slightly safer should we get into an accident, as I hate how the Blonde Dutchman drives.  Way too fast, and he doesn't even wear his seatbelt.  I swear the guy has a death-wish, just the way he lives his whole life, and even when we've talked he figures that he's going to die in some sort of crazy accident someday, that he won't die of old age.  Yet as Sophie wasn't much up for talking, it meant that I was the one keeping up the conversation with the Blonde Dutchman for the entire journey, from the back seat to the front, which is always weird and awkward.  And distracts him more from the road as well, which isn't the best either!

We got to polo and got to playing.  My first pony was a dream, a paint who turned on a dime.  Realising later that since there are no dimes in the UK, I asked about the idiom, and learned that in the UK people say "turns on a sixpence."  Kind of amazing that after six years here, I still learn new things about the culture every day...

Since we had only five of us, we played 3-on-2, taking turns with who would be on the team of two.  I found it much preferable to play against Sophie than with her, as when she was on my team for the first chukka, I found myself absolutely cursing her out when she was slow to move out of the play, couldn't hit the ball, and was just generally more rubbish than usual.  I suppose I shouldn't get quite so competitive, but it was hugely frustrating how just awful she was at playing.  And the worst bit is, that because she's a girl, she either laughs it off or doesn't quite take it seriously, making me shout at one point, "I'm not kidding!  MOVE YOUR F*CKING ASS!"  Ugh.  It's one of the reasons I much prefer playing with guys...

At least then it was much better playing against her, as I could just either ignore her or remove her from the field of play.  I had a really great time playing on the same team as the Blonde Dutchman, just the two of us, taking on the other three.  I actually felt like I got a much better workout from that chukka, and we actually held our own quite well, with me even scoring a few goals.  I love that when you can just break away from the crowds, race down the pitch, and deliver the ball straight into goal.  Nothing quite so satisfying!

We did seem to have quite a problem however with hitting balls out of the arena, hitting all of the balls out except one at one point.  We had to stop in the middle of the third chukka to go retrieve some balls, and I surprised even myself at one point by solidly whacking the ball right down the middle of the area, straight through the middle of the goal, sailing right up and over the top of the boards into the fields behind.  So I scored a goal, but lost the ball!

It had actually been snowing during the game with a fair amount of accumulation, it was such a bitterly cold day.  Except while we were playing, it was fine.  It was only after the game when Sophie suggested that we go five minutes down the road to the Royal Berkshire Polo Club to watch a pro game of arena polo that I realised quite how cold it was.  Standing outside, watching the game, every part of me went numb.  At one point I couldn't even feel my lips and my teeth felt frozen as we stood there freezing to death watching the game.  It's so funny how which side of zero degrees you're on makes such a difference, as I was just so darn cold!

It was neat to see the game though, and gratifying when the pro from our place won the game with his team.  Although the final chukka seemed to take ages, as the ref kept blowing his whistle and stopping the clock, even with two seconds left to play.  A seven-minute chukka seemed to take 20, as I was just dying there in the cold.

Yet at last the game was over, and we were free to go back to the car and drive home.  I felt bad for pushing everyone to leave, but I was so cold and I wanted to get back to London with time to change for rugby.  I got a call from Matt in the car checking on the location of the game, and then got the car to drop me off in Hammersmith so I was close to home.  I debated just going straight to the game without showering or changing, but in the end decided I was just too cold, and although it would make me late to the game, I desperately needed a hot shower to warm up, I was just so frozen.

I got back to mine, stood under the hot shower until I was finally starting to thaw a bit, and then got changed and ready as quickly as I possibly could.  Which I had to do in the midst of pulling together an "80's costume" for the party I was due to attend that evening.  I eventually grabbed some heels, legwarmers, fishnets, and a top that I figured I could do the "off-one-shoulder" thing with, a la "Flashdance".

I arrived at the rugby about 10 minutes in to the second half, and was surprised to see that it was a very small crowd, just Matt, Sweetheart, and two others.  I didn't get much of a chance to talk and catch-up with Matt, and he left right after the game, which was a bit disappointing.  As well, Roofie's Brother wasn't there either, and it made me annoyed with myself for even worrying about him (after all, an event is fine even if I don't see him, right?) and just being irritated that I was so worried about looking out for a guy.  He told me later that he'd actually had a haircut scheduled that day for 5 PM (kick-off time for rugby), but then when he heard from his friends in the same pub that they couldn't find us (hilarious that we'd been in the same place and hadn't seen each other), he hadn't bothered to come.  Funny, as since I was late too, we were on the same page there...

Watching the rugby

After England won (hurrah!) we went back to the place of two friends, I got changed into my costume for this 80's party that evening, and after having some dinner, we headed over to this 80's party that a friend of ours was having.

Again, I was annoyed at myself for secretly watching the door every time new people arrived, as I was looking for Roofie's Brother.  Dammit, I can't let things be all about a boy!

With the fabulous 80's costumes

The party started at 8 PM, we had gotten there just before 9 PM, but Roofie's Brother and friends didn't show up until after 10:30 PM.  And when they arrived, Roofie's Brother had told me that he'd gotten a costume, but I had no idea what it meant when he showed up as this fuzzy orange creature in a red jacket yelling, "Honey!"  Apparently he was the Honey Monster.  Which is something in the UK, but I'd never heard of it before in my life.  So it was weird, because I just had no idea how to react while everyone else was yelling, "OMG, that is so cool!"  All I could think was, "I have no idea what this is!"

Our party hostess and Sister Fister

Anyway, I was glad he was finally there, and hoped we might be able to chat a bit.  Yet, parties being what they are, we never really got much of a chance.  It particularly didn't help that with him was one of his best female friends, Sister Fister.  And she's a lovely girl, a bundle of energy, adorable and sweet, if a bit manic.  And she even warned me at the start of the evening, "When I get drunk, I start moaning about my life."  Apparently this was indeed the case, as far too often throughout the evening, I would see her off with Roofie's Brother in a corner.  Which of course I didn't want to interrupt, but it killed me, how then I never really got a chance to talk with him as a result.

Singing along to awesome 80's songs

Isn't it funny, how the very things you like about people (he's a good and loyal friend) make things difficult for you?  Plus, I know he's a bit shy, and he's just very comfortable with Sister Fister, and so at a busy party where he's otherwise stuck making awkward conversation with people, she's just easy to chat and laugh with.  I can't complain, as if I were at the same party with the Young Dutchman, I would have found it hard to leave the Young Dutchman to actually go talk to other people, even Roofie's Brother, who I obviously like.  So I get it, but still doesn't mean I don't wish it were otherwise!

Dancing to awesome 80's songs

So in the end, after hoping to get to see him all week, I barely got to talk to him at all.  I guess at some point we just need to manage to get some time with just the two of us, as that's the only way it's ever going to work.  I've long said that social events are the worst places to catch up with me, as I just know too many people, and the same often seems true for him.

Breaking out the Twister

Finally, at 3:30 AM, I realised that it was just getting late, the day was catching up with me, and it was time to go home.  Sweetheart had already left, offering to share a cab, but he'd already booked it then and I wasn't quite ready to leave.  Maybe it was a bit of pique, but if he'd booked a cab without asking me first, just assuming I would leave with him, I almost just wanted to make a point of not going with him.  Plus, he'd been a bit overly flirtatious all evening, and although I enjoy the banter with Sweetheart, I just didn't really want to have to deal with him quite so up-close and personal.  Sometimes you've got to keep the overly-excited puppy from jumping up on you, you know?

So I booked a cab for myself and one other girl who lives near me, and we made our few rounds to say good-bye.  At least with Roofie's Brother, that's always the reassuring part of the evening, where he leans in and gives me a solid kiss on the lips.  I'm getting to the point where I want more, but it's nice that he always goes there, at least at that one point in the evening.  Even if I wish we would have more time for just the two of us, I'll take the little bits of affection he gives me.  Let's just hope it goes somewhere.  Eventually.  Before too long...

Catching up with The Blonde

This evening I had agreed to meet The Blonde for some catch-up drinks, as the two of us always try to catch up at events, but yet there are so many people who know us, that we are never able to properly talk, just the two of us.  So we'd agreed to go to the club to have a quiet drink with just the two of us, and perhaps join people later on.

We tried not to talk much about the Tall South African, as I really do try to keep a wall between the two of them as I maintain my friendships with both.  Although she surprised me by telling me that she was sleeping with The Chap again.  Apparently they had been sleeping together before she got together with the Tall South African, and The Chap had actually asked her out.  Except then of course things took off with the Tall South African, she turned him down, and they stopped sleeping together once she got together with the Tall South African.

Except now they were sleeping together again, and she'd actually broached the subject with The Chap of potentially dating now that things were over with the Tall South African.  That must have been the wrong thing to say, as The Chap had responded by going off and sleeping with other people (while still yet sleeping with her).  And what boggled my mind is that while she'd gotten upset about it, she was apparently still sleeping with him, just upset that they weren't exclusive.

I was totally dumbfounded by all of this, as while I could potentially understand sleeping with a guy you're not in a relationship with (let's face it, we've all done it despite our pride telling us not to), I just can't imagine ever sleeping with a guy once I knew he was sleeping with somebody else.  I mean I would lose all interest instantly.  

Plus, I just feel I would have too much pride to regularly sleep with a guy who only called me late at night saying, "Why don't you come over?"  And who was just so cavalier with my emotions.  I don't know, as while I haven't been dating all of the guys I've slept with, I have always been a pretty reasonable judge of character, and have only gone for the guys who have treated me well.  Or at least when I've been wrong, I've cut them out pretty quickly.  Letting this go on when it's obviously troubling to her?  Why does she let him be so cruel and careless with her emotions?  And who on earth needs to sleep with someone that badly that you would let them be so mean to you?

Although it's not like this is the first indication I've had that The Blonde suffers from painful insecurity. The other surprising thing she told me was that she's been saving up for a boob job.  Which just struck me as bizarre on several levels because:

1) If you need to save up for something like that, doesn't the fact that you lack the cash on hand imply that perhaps you should have more savings in general?  She indicated that she needed about £5,000-£6,000, but only had about £2,000 saved at the moment.  Which given that The Blonde is only a few years younger than I am, I was stunned that she had so little saved.  I had at least ten times that amount saved by her age!

2) Why would you do that to yourself?  Have unnecessary surgery like that?  I was terrified of having surgery for my knee when it was absolutely necessary, the idea of cutting into yourself for purely cosmetic reasons is totally bizarre to me.

Anyway, I was so surprised, I didn't know quite what to say besides smile and nod.  Perhaps being so well-endowed myself, I just don't understand the insecurity that comes with having a smaller chest, but it just seems like a ridiculous thing to want.

So I was almost beyond raising my eyebrows when she was saying how there is an older, wealthy investor who has been interested in investing in her business, but has also been seeming to make their "business dinners" into more of dates.  Which has been annoying her, but almost then making her wonder if she could potentially manage to date him for a while and get him to pay for it, as it wouldn't be at all expensive for him.  I guess sometimes as much as I like The Blonde and enjoy her company, I just truly don't understand where she is coming from.

As long as we were being so confessional however, when she pressed me on it, I told her everything about Roofie's Brother.  About always just seeing him as a friend until after the beerpong tournament, and being so confused, and about how Joel made me tremendously insecure about him with his casual comments.  And about trying to be patient to let things develop naturally, yet really wishing something would more properly happen.  About worrying that nothing ever will, and we'll just end up in the friend-zone like happens with so many other guys.

Although I dislike talking to people about my romantic life, it was somewhat of a relief to tell someone who knows the boy in question.  It was interesting because she seemed to have never even noticed him, and yet upon realising what was going on here, seemed to be surprised at how it might actually make quite a bit of sense.

She just advised what I already knew, that trying to press him into anything would make him run a mile, that I simply needed to be reassuring, give him opportunities, and try to simply spend more time with him.  He's actually quite nervous and shy, and putting too much pressure on him will make him bolt.  I feel like I'm dealing with some of the horses I train here.  I only wish I was actually better at training horses!

We were talking about other nonsense, finishing our drinks and perhaps becoming ready to join some of the crowds at the Lansdowne, when a young-ish chap approached the table.  Apparently it was the young man she'd been talking to in reception when I'd been running late.  He'd just finished dinner with his companion, who was a member of the club, and they came and joined us for their post-dinner port.

As often happens when two men approach two women, you seem to get paired off.  I found myself with the member, a chap who was an intestinal surgeon.  Although they only could have possibly been a few years older than us, if not just the same age, I always find it rather amazing that people my age are doctors, entrusted with cutting people open.

I found it interesting that The Blonde chose to ask him about if he'd recommend any plastic surgeons, although when she mentioned it was because "a friend was thinking about getting a boob job", the revulsion with which both men reacted to the idea I hope made some impact.  The surgeon had nothing but nasty things to say about the hacks who perform breast augmentation surgery, and the military guy who was paired off with her just seemed to find the notion of fake breasts distasteful.  I just hope that made a bit of an impact.

We then had a hilarious conversation about the strangest things the surgeon had ever found stuffed up people's bums (quite a bit, as it turns out), and we got into a hilarious game of The Blonde and the military guy switching shoes with each other, and then the surgeon managed to hide The Blonde's shoe in plain sight for a pretty fun game.  Perhaps not entirely appropriate for the club, but it was past midnight and we were just having fun goofing around in the bar.

Finally at around 1 AM, after we'd missed all trains and any hope of going anywhere else, it was time to go home.  Bizarrely, the military man accompanied me and The Blonde out, while the surgeon bid us his goodnights in the hallway and then returned to the bar (I guess to talk to the few people still there?)  Tried not to take it personally that he seemed to be avoiding having to exit with me, as I thought I'd done a decent job at providing charming conversation while his friend hit on The Blonde, but perhaps not.

I got to the night bus stop and bid The Blonde and the military guy farewell, jumping on the excuse to give them an opportunity to catch up by themselves.  She later told me that they caught a taxi back to Clapham together (as they both live in that part of town), ended up making out in the cab, and then the guy told her that he was engaged.  Yikes.

Which of course, thank goodness, at least made her quite firmly turn down his invitation to join him back at his place, although left her texting me late at night wondering what on earth is wrong with men these days.  Funny enough, I hadn't gotten a very good vibe from the guy, and so it was kind of a relief to be proven right.  Perhaps I'm not so bothered either then about his surgeon friend's lack of interest.  In the end, they were entertaining company and bought us a number of free drinks, so I suppose one can't be too upset.  But how bizarre, eh?

Sloane Square Run

I had an absolutely nutty gym session in the morning, where after doing my own routine for about 45 minutes, decided to join in on a strength and fitness class that was just starting.  I mean, it was just another 45 minutes, how bad could it be?  I nearly died about 45 minutes later, realising it could be very bad indeed!

So I was quite tired by the evening's run, but I'd promised Roofie's Brother I would be there, so of course I had to go.

Roofie's Brother arrived right as we were about to set off on the run, after telling me that he was going to be running late, so I greeted him quite enthusiastically.  He kept pace with me as we ran for a while, but damn, I'm just too slow!  He was doing fine while he was managing trades for his office while we ran, but after a while he assured me, "I'll catch you up in a bit" and then took off.  Due to a shortcut, I ran into him again soon after, at which point he said, "See, I promised you I would catch you up!"  So sweet.

I developed a blister on my foot near the end of the run, so I was quite glad when the pub turned out to be close by.  I got back, and Roofie's Brother got me a drink (after I paid his subs for the night, since he didn't have any cash on him!), although he was quite distracted by having to handle trades for his job.  Plus, there's always that weird awkwardness thing...  And so it was strange, because he was so keen to be near me, but yet unable to really talk because he had to focus on his phone until the markets closed at 9 PM.  And so he just kept standing so close, often touching me, just hands brushing, and being far too near me than the crowded bar truly demanded, but yet not being able to focus on me or talk to me.  It was strange, yet also strangely comforting.

I did have his attention however when Matt and Devo and Cookie (normally some of my favourite people) started demanding stories of my Valentine's Day disaster of a group date.  And so here I am, talking about how I was out with another guy, yet trying to emphasise that I'd had no interest in the guy on offer, that I'm single, except jeez, it makes me sound like such a flake, going out on all of these dates with nice enough guys I have no interest in.  Makes me sound so shallow.

At least I hope I gave the crowd a good laugh when they asked why I hadn't gone for the boy on my date, and I replied, "Well, I always judge all men by the standard of [Roofie's Brother], and he just wasn't nearly as good-looking as [Roofie's Brother]."  That made everyone giggle and had Matt saying, "Gosh she's smooth..." so of course I had to throw in, "Originally I'd said I wouldn't go out with anyone who wasn't as handsome as Matt, but that was too impossibly high a standard for any man to meet!"  Cookie then laughed, "No wonder she has so many dates if she's so flattering to all men!"

Yet of course, I was once again realising, "Guys I like probably have no idea I'm interested in them, do they?"

Roofie's Brother then got pulled away by his female friend, Sister Fister, to go have dinner, and so I didn't really get to talk to him much after that, as they were off in a corner eating.  I chatted to others, and was having a fine time, when finally Roofie's Brother said he was going to get going.  I then would have gone too, except Sweetheart suddenly realised that he'd put his phone and his keys in the RA's bag, and she was now gone!

Now, as Sweetheart's closest neighbour (and let's face it, a good friend), I just couldn't leave him there. So I panelled everyone for numbers to see who had the RA's number (and her boyfriend's), called them, texted them, and promised Sweetheart that I would stay with him until it all got sorted out, or he could come home with me.

So I was staying.  And Roofie's Brother was going.  As is now our custom, he leaned in and kissed me on the lips to say good-bye.  Except then there was a pause where everyone was talking and confused as to quite who was leaving.  Once that was sorted out and he was honestly leaving again, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back in for one more kiss, a second time.  So sweet, it just made me smile ridiculously.

Nobody really seems to comment when we do this, although I noticed that his female friend pulled me in for a big hug.  I think she gets it perhaps, and to my relief, seems to give me her approval.  We'll see what happens next though...

At this point however, we were still on the case of the missing house keys.  And I was starting to think, "Good lord, what will I actually do with Sweetheart if I have to take him home?"  So Sweetheart got me a beer which I shared with Devo, and I stood around with Devo and Cookie, chatting about the Medoc marathon that we are planning to run in September.

Luckily, I then got a call from the girl who had Sweetheart's keys, we arranged for them to meet up in London Bridge so he could get them back, and we also discovered after a few more phone calls that it's a bad idea to suggest meeting at "the Starbucks in London Bridge station", as there are two of them on opposite sides of the station.  Jeez, there are really Starbucks everywhere!

At last though, Sweetheart got home to his own home safely, I got home to mine (much later than I'd originally intended), and everyone had a good, if exhausting, night!

The World's Weirdest Valentine's Date

Happy Valentine's Day!

I had been chatting online with The Blonde when she was debating with me about what to do for Valentine's Day.  Apparently the Tall South African wanted to do something (he'd been saying this to me as well), as much to simply do something on Valentine's Day other than sitting at home as much as anything else.  The Blonde's take on things was that she didn't really want to do something, feeling that it would give the Tall South African encouragement when she was pretty sure that they were going to be broken up for good, but on the other hand, given that she wasn't entirely sure it was over, she didn't want to not do something either.  So as a joke, I wrote, "Group date?" and was surprised at the enthusiasm with which The Blonde said that would be a great idea.  Oh lordy, what I have just gotten myself into?

Even better, is that the obvious choice of who to go out with us (since it couldn't just be me as a third wheel with the Tall South African and The Blonde) was Qatari Boy, given that he's a friend from university of The Blonde's.  But given that I have the best relationship with him and am still probably closest to him, I was the one who had to ask him out.  (Basically neither the Tall South African nor The Blonde really had the guts to do it).  Slightly mortifying to ask out a guy you are no longer seeing to see if he will go out with you on Valentine's Day, but I guess it's a sign of his affection for me (or how much he's game for a laugh) that he agreed to do it.

So on Valentine's Day, the Tall South African called me to suggest we meet up before dinner for drinks, and we were soon joined by The Blonde.  Despite texting Qatari Boy to tell him where we were going to be, there was no sign of him.  It was funny how it became like something from "Waiting for Godot" where The Blonde got progressively more nervous as there was no sign of Qatari Boy or any word from him.  The Blonde was saying, "I'm sure he's coming.  I mean, he wouldn't not come, would he?  He'll definitely come.  Maybe he'll come.  I'll just call and check that he's coming.  I mean, if he doesn't come, we'll still have a good time...."

Oh honey, if you think I'm sticking around to be a third wheel with just the two of you, you've got another thing coming...

Luckily, when we got to the restaurant, Qatari Boy was there, explaining that his phone had died, so he couldn't call anyone or get messages.  Hence the radio silence, but there he was, thank God.

The Blonde insisted that we sit side-by-side, with me across from Qatari Boy.  So it resulted with the Tall South African and The Blonde holding hands across the table, while Qatari Boy and I talked about European markets and his job applications.  Call me a wimp for wanting to keep things friendly but light between the two of us, but I just wasn't interested in going back there.  The fact that Qatari Boy has been flaky enough in the past for me to seriously wonder if he would stand me up on a Valentine's date tells me all about his reliability as anything other than an occasional friend.

Dinner was good, although it made me regret having eaten anything all day beforehand, as I was stuffed after the first course, but yet had to keep plowing on through the food.  I was feeling slightly ill by the end of dinner in fact, just over-full from food.  I just wanted to either go home and puke or just like down after eating so much...

Our table at dinner

I didn't want to have dessert, but the Tall South African seemed determined to hang on and stretch out the evening, so I stuck in there for it, and it was nearly midnight by the time we left to go home.

When we got to the trains, I put all of them onto one train (so the Tall South African went home with The Blonde), and I just gave Qatari Boy a peck on the cheek.  I felt a bit badly that I wasn't more warm to him, but I just wanted to go home and sleep, and I wasn't interested in resuming our romantic relationship in any way (even though I'd asked him out on Valentine's Day).  Yet when I spoke to him later, I was reassured that he'd thoroughly enjoyed my company and had been delighted to see me, even if our dinner companions obviously had some issues.

The next day, I was chatting with The Blonde, who had finally realised after that night that things needed to end between the two of them.  Apparently nothing had happened when the Tall South African had come home with her, just the two of them talking until 2 AM with the Tall South African continually asking about what had gone wrong between the two of them.  Poor boy.   There's a reason Joel and I refer to him as "Kicked Puppy" anymore...

Although the kicker was that the Tall South African had ordered some flowers to be delivered on Valentine's Day, but the company had screwed up and they didn't arrive until the day after.  When he'd become aware of the delayed order, I'd advised him to cancel them, but apparently he didn't take my advice.  And indeed, apparently that was just the over-the-top, too much gesture that had convinced The Blonde it really needed to be over, and they just needed to spend some time apart.

In the end, what a weird Valentine's Day.  Two couples who aren't dating any more, out for a romantic group date.  Still, one more story to add to the arsenal about all of my weird love life!

Barts

While on the drive home after polo on Saturday, I had promised the Blonde Dutchman that I would come out this evening to an event he was hosting for a company he was starting up.  It was billed as "drinks and catching up", and was being held at Barts, an exclusive club in Soho.  So exclusive in fact, that it was nearly impossible to find!

I wandered up and down the street outside a few times, looking for the correct number, before popping into an apartment block to ask the doorman where on earth this place might be.  He directed me to reception, where they gave me a knowing glance and said, "Oh yes, you must be looking for Barts."

Up a short flight of stairs, to a door that looked completely unremarkable and which I would have missed, if it hadn't been for the security guard standing outside and the small brass plaque next to it.  

I happened to be arriving at the same time as one of the guys I'd been playing polo with on Saturday, and we were both ushered beyond the invisible door into a small holding area, about the size of a closet.  The walls were all done up in cartoons, and we stood there together in this super-small area, wondering, "What do we do now?"

The only thing of note in the room was a small light switch, so my companion pressed it.  Then a tiny window opened, a little eye-slot like in the old-fashioned speakeasies of the 1920's.  We gave the passcode ("You seem to have forgotten your violin"), and the window slid shut, and the man behind it opened the door for us.

Once inside, it was a tiny, one-room little place, with low-lighting and tons of funky decor.  We spotted the Blonde Dutchman near the back, and he instantly greeted us, introduced us around, and made sure we had glasses of champagne in short order.  I stood there and chatted to the chap I'd inadvertently arrived with, who turned out to be Swedish and we had a really interesting discussion about the social obligations of governments to provide for their most vulnerable citizens.  You know, standard party chatter.

Eventually he decided to head home, and so I found myself talking with some random Belgian guy.  Nice enough, although annoying when he left to go have a cigarette.  Smoking is so gross, you know?  I also talked quite a bit with a girl he'd arrived with, who turned out to have a degree in the area I used to work in, and was very interested in getting into it, but totally kept shooting herself in the foot by talking about how hard it was to find jobs and how it wasn't even worth applying to anything.  I wanted to shake this girl and say, "Don't you understand how networking works?"  But in truth, she was so negative that by the end of our conversation, even though I knew of quite a few things I could potentially put her forward for with people I used to work with, I wouldn't have done so anyway.

Eventually I just found myself chatting with Sophie and one of the guys we'd been playing polo with last weekend.  Turns out he'd just bought a ring for his girlfriend, although then they'd had a massive blow-up fight, and so now he wasn't sure he wanted to propose any more.  Kind of interesting drama, really.

There certainly was enough drama to hear about when I talked to the Lovely Dutch Girl, who seems to finally have had the strength to properly break up with her (now ex) fiancée, although he still wants to do something for Valentine's.  And he's also harassing her because she's now dating other people...  She really just needs to cut that guy off and have nothing more to do with him, but seems to struggle with having the backbone to really do it.

The funky interior

I then found myself in conversation with the guy that I'd taken to the Olympics, who I can never quite figure out.  Nice guy (instantly bought me a drink when he saw me), always seems eager to see me, but we never properly seem to "click".

At last, towards the end of the evening, I found myself in conversation with two young boys (I think they were both 22) who kept making me laugh and giving me kisses because it was Valentine's Day tomorrow.  Classic young boys with impossibly perfect bodies, but the adorableness of puppies...  Nothing you would ever seriously consider, but they were so tremendously amusing, saying, "Forget Valentine's, and just be with us!"  It cracked me up.

Finally, given that it was nearly midnight, when a friend of mine was leaving, I took the opportunity to go with her.  How funny, in that I'd been so tired when heading out that I was sure I would stay for one drink and then head home.  So much for that plan!  

Running in Stratford

I was due to be in the office today, so I had to get up early to make sure I was in to claim my desk by 9 AM.  When I got up, I happened to see a note on Facebook about a friend looking for a flatmate, and so decided to use that as an excuse to write to Roofie's Brother (and drop a note about how he hadn't shown up on Sunday).  He wrote back almost instantly, thanking me for putting me in touch with the girl looking for a flatmate, and telling me that he actually had shown up on Sunday, but had arrived so late that nearly everybody had gone by the time he got there.  What a pity!  

On my walk to the Tube, I got a text from the Tall South African obviously not believing that I was up and out, so I had to text him a photo to show him that I was walking outside.  Funny enough, Roofie's Brother would later comment on how early I'd been up as well.  Jeez, does nobody believe that I can get up early?

Of course, it was made apparent to me when I walked into the office, and was quite startled when I nearly walked into a wall.  When on earth had they built a wall there?  I wrote this funny story to my boss, who laughed and wrote back, "You have to promise to keep sending me hilarious stories like this even when you're super-high powered in your new job!"  I have to admit, my boss was never someone I could learn a lot from, but she always was good fun.  I'll keep sending her stories, for sure!

I met the girl I'd met last Saturday for lunch at the London Stock Exchange, which was nice and all, although she turned out to be much less socially saavy than I'd originally been given the impression of.  I doubt the kind of person I'd actually connect with as a friend, but still we managed to get through lunch and I had an enjoyable and somewhat informative conversation with her.

Almost as soon as I got back, I then met up with a girl that I'd hired into my company for coffee.  Now she reminded me instantly of why I'd hired her, as she's just funny, smart, and good fun.  It was interesting talking to her about her experiences with the company thus far, I talked to her about my own career trajectory, and found to my surprise that I was actually able to give her some helpful and useful advice.  Plus, it was just nice to connect with her and get to check up on how she was doing.  Who knew I was such a networking extraordinarie?

At the end of the work day, I found myself rushing to coordinate with my Old College Roommate, who was in town on a business trip, and who had said that she would come join me at the run this evening if she could get out of work in time.  I will admit, given that I had been exchanging e-mails all day with Roofie's Brother talking about how we hoped to see each other this evening, I was desperately hoping she could make it, just so I could see him.  Shameless, eh?

Luckily, she did seem to think she could escape just in time, and although I missed her on the train platform, I got to the pub just in time for the run.  Where Roofie's Brother excitedly greeted me as soon as I walked in, and it turned out he'd been looking after my friend for me while she waited for me.  What a great guy.

It was a freezing cold night and the run was long, but my Old College Roommate kept pace with me the entire way, even though she easily could have run much faster.  (She did run the Chicago marathon this past year, after all!)  We had a fun time getting lost in a shopping mall and around the Olympic Park (first time I'd been back since the Olympics!) and then made it to the hare's house, where she had made pancakes (what we would call crepes) for everyone.  And I was secretly quite pleased when Roofie's Brother again greeted me enthusiastically saying, "I've been looking all over for you!"

Having crepes in the hare's kitchen

I made myself a crepe stuffed with plenty of Nutella, got myself a cup of hot cider, and then spent quite a bit of time standing in the kitchen with Roofie's Brother.  It was funny, because he was actually handling the trading for his job on his Blackberry, but still talking to me and of course dealing with the run the entire time.  My goodness that boy can multi-task!

When we finally decided we'd had enough pancakes and would run the last half-mile back to the pub, Roofie's Brother insisted on running with me and my Old College Roommate, even though he was obviously freezing and could have run back to the pub much quicker than us.  Even at one point when we didn't cross the street quickly enough for the lights, he stayed on the other side, hopping up and down in the cold, waiting until we crossed and could rejoin him for the run back.  And he never ran faster than me, but just kept running with me the entire time, as slow as I am.  He's so sweet.

Once we were back at the pub, I bought the first round for myself, Roofie's Brother, and my Old College Roommate.  Roofie's Brother stayed chatting to the two of us for as long as he could, until we finally needed to go get money to pay for the run, and also go get our coats to go outside for the circle time.

Once back inside, my Old College Roommate was starving and on a work expense account, so she got dinner for the both of us, and we sat in a corner just catching up (she's looking for a new job), and talking about how the happiness of our friends makes us happy, except that it's sad how rare that is, and how other people often see the world with too much schauenfreude.  I never really get that.

I found myself annoyed that I wasn't talking to Roofie's Brother, but I realised that this was the right thing to do, to take advantage of the opportunity to catch up with my Old College Roommate while we had the chance to get some one-on-one time in person.  Although eventually when we'd finished our dinners, we went over and joined him and his female friend who he always hangs out with, and talked to them for a while.

Finally, he left with his female friend, but as he was going, he leaned in and kissed me on the lips.  Completely comfortably and completely him choosing to do it, not awkward at all, but just sweet and lovely. I like that.

Shortly after that, my Old College Roommate and I decided to head out too, riding the home together, sharing one big last hug and saying how great it had been to see each other, and then finally heading home to bed.  I was exhausted (what a long run!) but having had an absolutely marvellous evening.

Rugby and Chinese New Year

"Kung Hei Fat Choi!"

In the morning, as is becoming our pattern, the Tall South African crawled into bed with me to talk and chat.  He then decided that he wanted to introduce me to "White Collar", one of his favourite television shows, and so cranked up my laptop for us to lie in bed and watch it.  As I tried to get a good view of the screen, he laughed and said, "Just lie on top of me so you can see it properly!"  Before I could broker any sort of protest, he then wrapped an arm around me, and pulled me in so my head was lying on his bare chest, and I was snuggled all up against him.  Kind of nice, it's been so long since I've just cuddled with a boy like that, and also kind of odd how entirely platonic it was.  Even listening to his heart beat beneath my ear, it just felt warm and comforting more than anything else.

Finally, when we decided it was time to get up, I went and made breakfast for the two of us, while he took a shower.  We had breakfast and then swapped, him doing the dishes while I took a shower.  I enjoy our happy domesticity, it's just so easy with him...

We then made our way out to the pub where we were due to meet everyone for watching the England vs. Ireland rugby game, and a bit of the Chinese New Year festivities.  Roofie's Brother had long been promising that he would see me at these today, so I was looking forward to seeing him.

Yet, inexplicably, he did not show.  And I got so annoyed with myself, sort of watching the door for any sign of him, when after a while it became obvious that he was not coming.  Almost anyone else I might have wanted to see were there, from The Blonde to Matt to the Scottish Lawyer to people who had been at the party on Friday.  So why was I so worried about seeing Roofie's Brother?  I guess hoping to have a less awkward good-bye than the one from last Friday, to be dressed up now the way I wish I had been then.  Alas, I don't know why he didn't come, and I refuse to get in touch to ask.  It will be up to him to explain if he wants to.  After all, I still don't really know what's going on here, and should be careful about assuming too much.  We might still be "just friends".

We watched the game, I had a good time hanging out with Matt, and England won in the end.  Then The Blonde mentioned that some other folks we knew were meeting nearby for a Chinese dinner, and I could see that the Tall South African really wanted to join them (he's still so hung up on her), so we went and joined them.  I was really quite starving at this point, having not eaten since breakfast, so it was good to have some dinner.

Except that dinner was tedious, I struggled through conversation with people, and I was nearly falling asleep by the end of the meal.  I can't believe these are the people that The Blonde most likes to hang out with, and who the Tall South African feels he missed out on having as friends.  I know that some people do not like my "club" friends, and I think this is exactly the crowd they're talking about.  People too busy talking about their skiing holidays to be real and interesting.

Finally we reached the end of the meal and got the bill, although I seriously nearly just left cash on the table and left, I was so darn exhausted.  At least we finally managed to pay, and the Tall South African and I took the Tube home, where at least talking to him I wasn't quite so utterly bored.  Although he did go on talking about The Blonde quite a bit, and worrying that she seemed stressed these days.  It's sort of sweet, how worried he is about her, and I do wish I had somebody who was quite so worried about me, but gosh, it's all he can talk about, non-stop!  At least it made me realise that I'm in a much better position with Roofie's Brother, for although I was disappointed not to see him today, I hadn't really given him much thought after I realised he wasn't coming.

Once back at mine, he grabbed his things to go grab his train back home, and I just collapsed on my sofa.  I got a great unexpected surprise when my brother called, and we had a really great conversation on Skype for several hours.  All in all, a pretty great end to an otherwise dull day....

Polo with the Blonde Dutchman

The pony lines

In the morning, the Tall South African crawled into bed with me (as we always do when we just want to talk or hang out), and we watched "Suits", a show that he's in love with that I recently discovered on my flight back from the US.  It was just so nice and comforting, lying in bed with him, just enjoying a lazy morning.  Nowhere to go, nothing to do, but just lie in bed and enjoy hanging out together on a Saturday morning.

I did have to get going eventually however, to go meet the Blonde Dutchman for a ride to go play polo.  I hadn't seen the Blonde Dutchman in quite a while, and although I knew that he played polo, we'd never played together before.  In fact, our relationship has generally always been that of passing acquaintances as parties, and I do think we would be friends, except that we've never really gotten a chance to spend much time together.

So in the car on the ride up, it was interesting talking to him about this online dating business that he's setting up.  It basically is based on the idea of social cachet, in that it's only open through invitations, and they're pretty selective about who they allow in.  Which was then rather funny when he was talking about it as though I knew much more than I did, until I finally told him that although he invited me along to tons of stuff, he'd never actually invited me to join his site.  He seemed utterly horrified and embarrassed at this, and immediately pulled out his wallet and gave me a really pretty slick credit card with a code to join.  At least it was really sweet, as he seemed utterly mortified realising that I wasn't part of it, as he'd long assumed I'd been one of the first people he'd asked to join!

He also seemed to enjoy my conversation about business practices, when I basically outlined how his business strategy followed a lot of classic b-school tenants.  Being in general, the girl that guys like talking to because she's clever.  He laughed, "I hadn't even realised that we were doing things right!"

When we got to the farm, we changed into our boots, and I got on my first pony, Margarita.  She was totally awesome, very quick and responsive, and quite fun to play with.  When selecting a second pony, I tried to avoid one that was too big, fearing that he'd be slow.  Alas, I got stuck with him anyway, and I was right, he was tremendously slow.  Thank goodness I had my "fusta" (whip)!

Overall, it was a good game though.  I find that I'm one of the mid-level players on the whole.  I found that the Blonde Dutchman was a better player than I am now, although probably only about as good as I once was when I was playing more regularly.  Yet, it's still a good feeling to be able to hold my own in the game.

I played on a team opposite the Blonde Dutchman and Sophie, which was basically a compromise of having neither the strongest nor the weakest players, we were pretty much all the mid-level players.  We worked well together as a team however, and scored quite a few goals (me included!)

After the game, we all decided to meet for a drink when we got back to London, and after settling on a pub, all sorted ourselves into cars for the drive back.  I ended up riding along with the Blonde Dutchman, and as we got in the car he made a crack about how, "it's just the two of us, eh?" with a raised eyebrow.  Made me crack up, as he always has this funny way of being super-suggestive with everything he says.  He's so devastatingly good-looking, you know that he's probably just cut a swath through the female population of London, but he amuses me so much, one can always enjoy being the focus of that charm for a bit, can't you?    Anyway, as we were driving, he did pause and just look at me with a bit of seriousness, "I never date girls who are part of my online dating business.  Don't mess with the supply, you know?"  I wasn't quite sure if it was a comment to me or just a note in general.  Regardless, he's too slick, we'll never be anything other than friends.

Tired ponies after the game

Still, it was something else he said that really got to me, when as we were sitting in the car, he turned to me very seriously, as though he really wanted me to take in what he had to say, and told me, "You're really a pretty good player, you know that?"  Almost a bit as though it had been a wonderfully pleasant discovery for him, that I wasn't just one of those girls who claimed to be able to play but who struggled to actually hit the ball.  That I could really hold my own, and that I was a solid player.  I have to admit, my chest puffed up about six sizes upon hearing that.  I was just so chuffed.

We had a great time on the drive back, talking about business, politics, and just about everything under the sun, including his propensity for breaking bones and describing himself as "a white Ethiopian" given how easy it is for him to run long distances.  Really, and opportunity to get to know each other a bit better, and to realise how much we actually had in common and enjoyed each other's company.  Although I think it would probably be hard for anyone to not laugh a lot in the company of the Blonde Dutchman.

We stopped to pick up his cousin, as they were going out to a "Tube stop" party later that evening.  Then we went to the pub, arriving at the same time as everyone else despite our incredible delay.  We stood around in the pub chatting for a while, until Sophie and I decided to talk one of the waiters into giving us a reserved table (we promised to eat dinner quickly), and went off, just the two of us, to chat and catch up.  I found myself unburdening on Sophie a bit about boys, work, and just everything I knew about everyone, from the Tall South African and the Blonde to other people we knew.  We kept joking that the table was a magical bubble and nothing went beyond it, but it just felt so good to talk to her.  I really forget at times how well Sophie and I get along, and how wonderfully entertaining she is.  I still can't believe some days that she enjoys being friends with me as much as I do her, but boy do I miss catching up with her.  Such fun.

Finally we finished up our dinner, re-joined the others for a last few drinks, and at last Sophie and I decided to walk back to the train station together.  I made my way home, and got a call from the Tall South African where he tried to convince me to come out to a house party right in my neighbourhood, but I was suddenly so exhausted, I knew there wasn't a chance of that happening.  So I told him that I would leave the door open for him, but I was going to bed.  I was so exhausted, that I never even heard him come home.

Still, before I went to bed, I did check out this online dating thing that the Blonde Dutchman had set up, and discovered that the guy whose dinner I had missed last week had invited me out for drinks in a week on Monday.  Grooving once again on the attention of single boys, I started to think, "Perhaps being single isn't so bad."  So even if nothing happens with Roofie's Brother, I've still got a bit more fun to have as a single girl.