Now sometimes you just don’t know what’s going to happen with a potential relationship. One moment its off and the next it could be potentially on again. My early morning text on Friday came courtesy of The Ex-husband. There had been a bit of contact a few days prior to this text but it essentially, for reasons probably best left unexplaine, paved the way to another first date.
So, seconds up, round three and the The Ex-husband and I meet for our third first date. The choice of date was quite difficult to decide on. We wanted to do an activity based thing rather than just go out for dinner or a drink and I felt that there should be some (tongue-in-cheek) romantic elements involved too. I suggested a walk along the Thames. We could walk east to west from Tower Bridge to Westminster Bridge taking in the sights of London whilst walking towards a romantic sunset. We could even hold hands during it too.
We met at the Tower of London. I was all flustered and late from being held up at work but I think I pulled off the flustered look well. It was an after work mid-week affair and I turned up in my new favourite black tulip skirt, black boots and a flowery shirt. My hair was all messily pinned up and despite an attack of bad skin, I think I looked ok. With only twenty minutes to go until a London sunset, according to the BBC website, we headed off over Tower Bridge to start the romantic walk.
Weather wise, the outlook wasn’t so good. It was completely overcast and the chances of a sunset were rather slim, in fact I think one could guarantee there wouldn’t be a sunset at all that evening. However, I remained optimistic and if there’s something London’s city lights can offer is the small illusion of a reddish glow in the sky. It was cold though which allowed for practical hand holding, if only to keep the fingers warm.
So we meandered along the south side of the river whilst I pointed out my favourite buildings and bits of information about the capital. We chatted the full length of the three kilometre walk and pit-stopped at Yo Sushi for dinner. Now what I like about Sushi bars or generally any sort of bars as displayed by the Tapas bar in Old Street, is the ability to sit close together where everything is all slightly more flirty and fun as you both lean in to chat, look at the menu together and decide on an eating plan of action. There’s the opportunity for a brief bit of tactileness, the odd hand on the knee or a friendly hand on the other’s arm. Sushi is fun too. It can all be a bit of a surprise as I never really know what I’m going to be eating as I pick a dish off the belt. If it looks interesting I’ll go for it. I’d rather take something like that than a standard bit of sticky rice with a bit of salmon on it. Dragon rolls and peppery rice eaten, and ten dishes down, I was pleasantly satisfied with the sushi experience.
What with this being a third first date, and the fact that myself and the Ex-Husband had been getting to know each other for essentially four months now, there were no awkward getting to know each other conversations nor were there any awkward pauses. There had been brief mentions of staying over but nothing had been decided although I had packed a toothbrush, just in case. We carried on with our walk towards Westminster where we crossed the river again and headed into a pub to warm up. Hands held continuously whilst there, to try and defrost them, it was decided that I was going to stay over at his. Now I know that this was technically a first date but in my head I justified this by it being our third first date and if I don’t put out until the third date, then this sleepover was therefore allowed!
This was a nice date. It was lovely to see the Ex-Husband again and spend some time with him. I think we go well together. Once again, what happens now? Who knows, but I’d like to think this will be the last date blog entry I’ll write for a while now…
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Monday, 14 March 2011
The Aussie
Now love wasn't my main motivation for moving back to England. Admittedly I had said that I wanted to move back, grow up and settle down but I realised this wasn't going to happen over night. After things went a bit pear shaped with the Christmas Party Boy/Ex-Husband, yes he was the same person, and it was clear that I wasn't going to marry the Boat-Man nor his money, I decided to upload my profile back on the dating website from last year.
A few messages were received, some good, some not so good. One did catch my eye and I replied back. This came courtesy of an Aussie guy living in London. A bit of banter went back and forth and it was decided we'd meet for a date the following week. Bank/Monument was chosen as a happy medium as a location and a caffeine related date was organised due to the fact that we both have quite geeky jobs and a coffee would avoid either of us falling asleep when the conversation would naturally turn round to what we do at work. However due to the day of the date, a Thursday, and it being a busy night in the city, along with the fact that neither of us knew any decent cafés that weren't Starbucks in the area, he suggested booking a table at a restaurant for a dinner date. Now one thing I've learnt on this dating mission is that it’s a good idea to remember some of the good places you've visited on dates even when the date itself wasn't good. I of course mean the tapas bar from the previous week with the Boat-Man and so myself and The Aussie met at Old Street.
A quick walk round the corner and I find myself sitting on the same bar stool as per the week before. We ordered beers and had a quick look at the menu and ordered a couple of dishes to snack on. Now whereas other dates I’ve had from this site had been after quite a bit of conversation whether through skype or phonecalls, my self and The Aussie hadn’t had that much correspondence before meeting. Despite that, the conversation flowed quite nicely. There were odd moments when the conversation naturally came to a conclusion followed by a short pause before one of us would think of something new to ask and a new conversation would start but I think that’s generally what happens when you meet anyone properly for the first time. Flirty smiles were exchanged and as the atmosphere and the noise picked up throughout the evening, the more we leant into each other. By the end of the date I was thinking, yeah, I’d go for tapas again with this guy.
We walked back to the tube and ended up waiting ages for a train. I, by this point had missed my last train home and was going to have to call my mum to pick me up which was undoubtedly going to raise a few questions because I had told her that I was just meeting a friend for coffee after work. By the time we boarded a train we made our way underground to Oxford Circus where I was going to have to jump out to change tubes whereas he was going to stay on and go straight to Notting Hill. Now there was once an incident with The Writer where we were in a similar “saying goodbye on the tube” situation. I had asked The Writer the night before what our relationship was and this was a bit of a crucial moment in the will we/wont we get together point. I felt that a good goodbye kiss was needed at that point to truly direct the course of that relationship. However when it came to it, we were both on the tube heading in the same direction but with different end points, a bit like our non relationship really. We got to Embankment, I had to jump out and change whereas The Writer was travelling to Marylebone. At that point, with neither of us wanting to make a huge public display of affection there followed a quick kiss on the lips followed by me darting out the tube doors leaving me feel rather disappointed that that was it. Now The Aussie and I weren’t exactly in the same situation, we’d only had one date for starters but there was that awkward moment when it came to saying goodbye. The result was a quick kiss on the check, after saying we both had a fun evening and it would be nice to meet again sometime.
Texts were sent on the way home to say that we had both got back safely, as was the obligatory text to a friend to say that he wasn’t an axe-murderer and all was well and I went to bed with my dating confidence back up again and feeling pretty good about myself. As a first date it was pretty good and would I see him again? Yes I would. However the next morning whilst on the train to work a text came through asking if I was still awake and that then caused a little change of direction…
A few messages were received, some good, some not so good. One did catch my eye and I replied back. This came courtesy of an Aussie guy living in London. A bit of banter went back and forth and it was decided we'd meet for a date the following week. Bank/Monument was chosen as a happy medium as a location and a caffeine related date was organised due to the fact that we both have quite geeky jobs and a coffee would avoid either of us falling asleep when the conversation would naturally turn round to what we do at work. However due to the day of the date, a Thursday, and it being a busy night in the city, along with the fact that neither of us knew any decent cafés that weren't Starbucks in the area, he suggested booking a table at a restaurant for a dinner date. Now one thing I've learnt on this dating mission is that it’s a good idea to remember some of the good places you've visited on dates even when the date itself wasn't good. I of course mean the tapas bar from the previous week with the Boat-Man and so myself and The Aussie met at Old Street.
A quick walk round the corner and I find myself sitting on the same bar stool as per the week before. We ordered beers and had a quick look at the menu and ordered a couple of dishes to snack on. Now whereas other dates I’ve had from this site had been after quite a bit of conversation whether through skype or phonecalls, my self and The Aussie hadn’t had that much correspondence before meeting. Despite that, the conversation flowed quite nicely. There were odd moments when the conversation naturally came to a conclusion followed by a short pause before one of us would think of something new to ask and a new conversation would start but I think that’s generally what happens when you meet anyone properly for the first time. Flirty smiles were exchanged and as the atmosphere and the noise picked up throughout the evening, the more we leant into each other. By the end of the date I was thinking, yeah, I’d go for tapas again with this guy.
We walked back to the tube and ended up waiting ages for a train. I, by this point had missed my last train home and was going to have to call my mum to pick me up which was undoubtedly going to raise a few questions because I had told her that I was just meeting a friend for coffee after work. By the time we boarded a train we made our way underground to Oxford Circus where I was going to have to jump out to change tubes whereas he was going to stay on and go straight to Notting Hill. Now there was once an incident with The Writer where we were in a similar “saying goodbye on the tube” situation. I had asked The Writer the night before what our relationship was and this was a bit of a crucial moment in the will we/wont we get together point. I felt that a good goodbye kiss was needed at that point to truly direct the course of that relationship. However when it came to it, we were both on the tube heading in the same direction but with different end points, a bit like our non relationship really. We got to Embankment, I had to jump out and change whereas The Writer was travelling to Marylebone. At that point, with neither of us wanting to make a huge public display of affection there followed a quick kiss on the lips followed by me darting out the tube doors leaving me feel rather disappointed that that was it. Now The Aussie and I weren’t exactly in the same situation, we’d only had one date for starters but there was that awkward moment when it came to saying goodbye. The result was a quick kiss on the check, after saying we both had a fun evening and it would be nice to meet again sometime.
Texts were sent on the way home to say that we had both got back safely, as was the obligatory text to a friend to say that he wasn’t an axe-murderer and all was well and I went to bed with my dating confidence back up again and feeling pretty good about myself. As a first date it was pretty good and would I see him again? Yes I would. However the next morning whilst on the train to work a text came through asking if I was still awake and that then caused a little change of direction…
Monday, 7 March 2011
Fallen off the dating horse? Get straight back on again...
Sometimes things don’t go they way you either hoped to or expected. I don’t believe that someone can plan a relationship; I’m a firm believer of whatever happens happens and that’s what happened. With my holiday romance/potential new relationship over it was time to get back on the dating horse.
The boat-man had caught wind that I was back in the country and with him fresh off the sailing boat from Antigua – no joke, he invited me out. Now I did have my reservations. We did have a nice date back in November but my socks weren’t blown off and his keenness did make me feel slightly uncomfortable and put my guard up. I thought I’d approach this evening in a different matter. A few months had gone by, we hadn’t had that much contact over that period, he was aware that I had been seeing someone else so I thought all would be fine.
We met up at Old Street after work both in need of some food and he walked me round the corner to a little tapas bar. This place was great. Small, quirky, modern yet a little bit rough around the edges. All the tables had been reserved but the waitress said we could sit at the bar and there were two bar stools available. I thought it was perfect, tapas is more fun at the bar anyway but I could see he wanted to pull back and perhaps try and find some place else. I, perhaps in my slightly bossy way commandeered the date by thanking the waitress and heading over to the bar. Perched on the corner, both sat quite close together, which was a good thing because he can talk rather quietly, we proceeded to catch up.
The waitress came over to take our drinks orders and having noticed the girls sitting next to us drinking red wine out of what looked like glass tumblers, decided that wine was not for me. The boat-man ordered a glass of red, naturally presumed that I would have one too but I actually fancied an Estrella to be drunk rather commonly out of the bottle! Now I’m not sure whether I was deliberately trying to show the differences between us or whether I was really being myself but I didn’t have my guard up this time. What he saw was really what we would get. The waitress came round again to take our food order and I, yet again took over the situation, although I did ask if he had any dish preferences, but ordered four dishes that I thought would work well together but would still be a bit of a surprise, as is the fun with ordering tapas.
The food arrived, as did our small plates to put it on. His plate wasn’t dirty but the porcelain was stained. I saw him turn his nose up at it. I just smiled. We ate, the food was nice. It was actually cooked behind the bar so you could see it all happening. The bar was busy yet laid back, there was a bit of music in the background and the atmosphere in the place was great. We finished the food, I had half finished my beer when he looked at his watch and said that he had reserved a table for us at a bar round the corner. I was actually disappointed. I really wanted to stay at the tapas bar but he quickly paid up and we left.
A short walk round the corner and down some stairs and we find ourselves in what can only be described as 1920s France. A very dark bar, plushly decorated in deep purple and brown, art deco bronze tables and a small bar where cocktails were being subtly shaken. The menu was full of elaborate cocktails, each around the £9 (100kr) mark and I just didn’t know what to chose. I picked a drink, we both sat there chatting whilst some French fashionista was crooning in the background. It was a nice bar but just too fancy pants for me. I appreciate that he’d gone to the trouble of reserving a table for us to enjoy the evening but I was perfectly happy in the previous place.
Anyway, we had a nice evening but I think he realised by the end of the night that I wasn’t really interested in him. He offered me a lift back to London Bridge to catch my train but I politely declined on three reasons. One, the cocktails were strong, he’d had a glass of wine too and was likely to be over the limit. Two, I never trust cars, taxis or buses in central London to get me where I need to be on time. I had at this point around twenty minutes until my last train left and I didn’t want to get stuck in traffic when I knew I could make the journey easily and on time on the tube. And thirdly, I didn’t want the awkwardness of being in a car with him and having to say an awkward good bye and thank you for the lift at the station. So he walked me back to the tube, we had a hug good bye, possibly a kiss on the cheek, I can’t actually remember, it obviously didn’t make that much of an impression on me and I went on my way. No contact from him since and I think he’s come to realise that perhaps we are really from different worlds and I’ll forever be too much of a rough diamond for his upper echelons of society!
The boat-man had caught wind that I was back in the country and with him fresh off the sailing boat from Antigua – no joke, he invited me out. Now I did have my reservations. We did have a nice date back in November but my socks weren’t blown off and his keenness did make me feel slightly uncomfortable and put my guard up. I thought I’d approach this evening in a different matter. A few months had gone by, we hadn’t had that much contact over that period, he was aware that I had been seeing someone else so I thought all would be fine.
We met up at Old Street after work both in need of some food and he walked me round the corner to a little tapas bar. This place was great. Small, quirky, modern yet a little bit rough around the edges. All the tables had been reserved but the waitress said we could sit at the bar and there were two bar stools available. I thought it was perfect, tapas is more fun at the bar anyway but I could see he wanted to pull back and perhaps try and find some place else. I, perhaps in my slightly bossy way commandeered the date by thanking the waitress and heading over to the bar. Perched on the corner, both sat quite close together, which was a good thing because he can talk rather quietly, we proceeded to catch up.
The waitress came over to take our drinks orders and having noticed the girls sitting next to us drinking red wine out of what looked like glass tumblers, decided that wine was not for me. The boat-man ordered a glass of red, naturally presumed that I would have one too but I actually fancied an Estrella to be drunk rather commonly out of the bottle! Now I’m not sure whether I was deliberately trying to show the differences between us or whether I was really being myself but I didn’t have my guard up this time. What he saw was really what we would get. The waitress came round again to take our food order and I, yet again took over the situation, although I did ask if he had any dish preferences, but ordered four dishes that I thought would work well together but would still be a bit of a surprise, as is the fun with ordering tapas.
The food arrived, as did our small plates to put it on. His plate wasn’t dirty but the porcelain was stained. I saw him turn his nose up at it. I just smiled. We ate, the food was nice. It was actually cooked behind the bar so you could see it all happening. The bar was busy yet laid back, there was a bit of music in the background and the atmosphere in the place was great. We finished the food, I had half finished my beer when he looked at his watch and said that he had reserved a table for us at a bar round the corner. I was actually disappointed. I really wanted to stay at the tapas bar but he quickly paid up and we left.
A short walk round the corner and down some stairs and we find ourselves in what can only be described as 1920s France. A very dark bar, plushly decorated in deep purple and brown, art deco bronze tables and a small bar where cocktails were being subtly shaken. The menu was full of elaborate cocktails, each around the £9 (100kr) mark and I just didn’t know what to chose. I picked a drink, we both sat there chatting whilst some French fashionista was crooning in the background. It was a nice bar but just too fancy pants for me. I appreciate that he’d gone to the trouble of reserving a table for us to enjoy the evening but I was perfectly happy in the previous place.
Anyway, we had a nice evening but I think he realised by the end of the night that I wasn’t really interested in him. He offered me a lift back to London Bridge to catch my train but I politely declined on three reasons. One, the cocktails were strong, he’d had a glass of wine too and was likely to be over the limit. Two, I never trust cars, taxis or buses in central London to get me where I need to be on time. I had at this point around twenty minutes until my last train left and I didn’t want to get stuck in traffic when I knew I could make the journey easily and on time on the tube. And thirdly, I didn’t want the awkwardness of being in a car with him and having to say an awkward good bye and thank you for the lift at the station. So he walked me back to the tube, we had a hug good bye, possibly a kiss on the cheek, I can’t actually remember, it obviously didn’t make that much of an impression on me and I went on my way. No contact from him since and I think he’s come to realise that perhaps we are really from different worlds and I’ll forever be too much of a rough diamond for his upper echelons of society!
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