Spicy second date

It’s a balmy Sunday in Summer as I arrive at Busty Czech’s home for our second date. I buzz her doorbell and she invites me inside. We kiss hello politely in her entrance hall and she beckons me to come in further. I’m not surprised to find her home orderly, clean and light. She’s smiling happily at me, a welcome change from the negativity of earlier in the week. Ever the optimist I’ve brought a complete picnic along; hopefully this one turns out better than the others.

Busty Czech and I walk a couple of blocks down to a public park that is crowded with families taking advantage of the perfect weather for a picnic. I spread the blanket out, she starts unpacking what I’ve brought and within seconds insects come to investigate my choices.

I’m not expecting miracles from this date. I don’t want to take her to bed any time soon, despite her breasts wobbling alluringly as we walked. I just want to get to know her. I just want to see what’s inside her head and heart, to see if it’s a safe place for my heart. She comes with some baggage, but at our age who doesn’t? I say “our age” because we were born in the same year but she’s a few months older than me. That doesn’t bother me, but only because I’ve lately got to know women much older than me. The Irish Cougar and Busty Blonde were good experiences in that regard. I like to think it means that I can hold my own with any woman of any age, but I do wonder if for them it was more about being fucked by a much younger man.

Busty Czech seems genuinely impressed and grateful for the effort I have gone to for this picnic. Something I notice is that she likes her food on the spicy side. I look forward to proving my theory about food and women, finding out whether she is a hot lover, but that’s just going to have to wait.

Conversation rolls around easily and I find her interesting to talk to. We share a wanderlust and inquisitiveness about the world. We’ve both lived in three countries. We like to see things from different angles and don’t blindly believe what the mass media wants us to believe. She is politically aware, liberal in civil rights but fiscally conservative, the same as me. It doesn’t take long for me to discern that we share a remarkably similar view of the world. She’s an intellectual match and that pleases me. We’re both strangers in a strange land, now a mixture of cultures and see things differently to those around us, which I think is a good thing.

Not unexpectedly the conversation turns serious. The liquid South African sunshine I brought along has mellowed her and she’s feeling comfortable enough with me to tell me some of her secrets. She had a conventional family life as a child that became unpleasant in her early adult years. This forced her to leave her homeland and eventually find sanctuary in England. She married an Englishman and it seems it was for love. He wasn’t the control-freak, but her most recent boyfriend of a year ago was. I don’t encourage her to tell me details, she just lets it all out. I’m flattered by her trust and honesty and I realize that we’re bonding. I reciprocate by telling her my life story. She listens respectfully and passes no judgement.

A pleasant silence falls between us. I change the topic to everyone’s favourite subject: travel. I innocently ask if she has any plans.

“I’m supposed to be going on holiday to the south of France with my mother next month, but this week she cancelled on me. I’ve booked everything and was really looking forward to this trip because after the year I’ve had I really need it,” she says plaintively.

I barely think about it and blurt out what my heart is saying.

“I’ll go with you!”

It was an instinctual reaction that I had no control over. At the back of my head was memories of going away with Baltic Babe and what a great experience that was. Yes, there were massive ups and downs on that trip, but it brought us to a place that we needed to go as a prospective couple. I now know that the best and quickest way to get to know someone is to go away together. Travel can be stressful and you get to see how that person deals with it and how well you work as a couple, how harmoniously and respectfully you deal with problems together.

My money situation is becoming tight, I can’t afford a vacation, but I have faith in my future. Here is a golden opportunity to have what I have been looking for. A trip will either make or break us, so the sooner I find out then the better. I don’t have time to waste.

Busty Czech is pleased by my response and excuses herself as she needs to visit the restroom in a nearby pub. As she walks off I wonder what I’ve just committed to doing, but I have to follow through. I need a break too. Sun, sea and sex beckons. A most unexpected date so far. Hold on, I’m being presumptuous. What if she has a problem with sex because of her health? It doesn’t matter, that’s not my highest priority, love is, but what if there’s a mismatch between us? Only one way to find out.

As Busty Czech returns she stops to talk to a little girl who is trying to make friends with ducks in a pond. She is one of the most sweet-natured women I have ever met. I like that; I like it a lot. I feel a warm glow spread across my body and it’s not because of the intense sun overhead.

“Have you ever wanted children?” I ask, broaching a topic that I know that she answered ‘no’ to on her dating profile. I wanted to check her answer.

“No, not really. I just don’t have that maternal urge,” she replies. “Besides, I think I’m a little too old for that to happen now even if I wanted to,” she finishes.

Almost every woman I’ve met has said something along those lines. The only variation has been “I would be open to it if the right person came along”. Of course there was Baltic Babe for whom it was her strongest and constant thought of every day. She was what I think of as a ‘Baby-brainer’, a woman whose reason for existence seemed to be to find a man to have children with. I understand the biological imperative, but parenthood is not a life that I think I’m cut out for. It’s probably my only vestige of being selfish; I know what’s right for me.

The sun tires Busty Czech and we go back to her place. I’m expecting to load the picnic gear in my car, say goodbye and begin the long drive home. Instead she invites me in for coffee. It’s a scorching hot day and coffee is the last thing I want, but I know that she’s just using it as an excuse to spend more time with me. I’m keen to get to know her well so with a smile I dump the picnic leftovers in my car and follow her indoors. Must not seduce her, must not seduce her…

It isn’t long before we’re on her sofa making out like horny teenagers. For someone who suffers severe lethargy on a daily basis she certainly is an enthusiastic kisser. That little tongue of hers is like a runaway vibrator. She tastes of all the spicy food she had eaten earlier. This confirms it, spicy food equals passionate lover. Well, kisser at least.

One thing leads to another and before I know it we’re dry-humping on her sofa. She fits me nicely and she certainly makes some noise. Before things get totally out of hand I bring matters to an unlubricated stop. Busty Czech wipes away some saliva and gives me a satisfied smile.

“You’re passionate; I like that,” she says and after a second we both laugh.

I decide to unwind the spiral of sexual tension between us and not long afterwards I start making my excuses about having to leave. This date has gone far better than I anticipated and it’s best to end it on a high note. After a decent kiss goodbye I step through her doorway and turn to give her a smile.

“Have a safe drive home. I’m going to think about us going away on holiday together now,” she says with a serious frown.

It’s the frown that threw me and I pondered its significance on the way home. Has she had a change of heart?

Howard Jones – Like To Get To Know You Well

Roller-coaster starts to trundle

At the end of our date we agreed to get together the following Sunday. On Monday at 5pm Busty Czech sends me the following text message:

I know this is so not appropriate to say as I only just met you and it has taken me completely by surprise but I already miss you and Sunday suddenly seems so far away. X

And then half an hour later she sends me this text message:

…so I guess I am already swimming in the pool with the waterfalls around 🙂

She’s referring to her answers to my Magical Forest questions. I find her words incredibly sweet and deeply disturbing at the same time. What’s she going to be like once I’ve fucked her; once the oxytocin – the bonding chemical of love – kicks in? I’m starting to see elements of Deranged Dater in her, given the slightly manic behaviour.

At the end of our date I had mentioned the Bristol Balloon Festival and wondered if she would be interested in seeing that. During the day I sent Busty Czech a link to the event’s website, not really expecting her to want to go because I now know that she tires easily, but it would be a pleasant outing.

Later in the evening I get the following email from her:
Hi, I enjoyed yesterday but unfortunately even the pleasant things tire me out 🙁 So am taking it easy today. The Bristol balloon event looked good but too long for me. You will soon get fed up with me not be able doing things just as I get fed up with it. Hope you had a good day. X

Half an an hour later I phone Busty Czech, just wanting to chat, but she doesn’t answer and I end up leaving a message. Five minutes later I get the following text message:

Am sorry, I sound down today. Its just I really enjoyed time with you but I cannot expect from you being with me in this condition. As you want do more exciting things. Im upset this evening. When I calm down ill call you. X

I decide to not say or do anything, expecting only to hear from her in a few days time, probably to tell me a bunch of lies about why we can’t see each other. It’s a road I’m too familiar with, a lingering, bitter gift from the other women I’ve dated or tried to. If I were to phone her to discuss or send her any kind of text message, she would baulk and I’d probably never see her again. I get on with my evening, so I’m surprised when half an hour later she calls me. Is it time for the goodbye speech already?

We make polite and pleasant small talk, avoiding the elephant on the line; what the hell is going on in her head? I’m aware that she’s almost hyper-ventilating as she catches the end of her words when she speaks to me. I make a concerted effort to remain neutral and consistently so. Why are women such hard work? Or is it just the ones I meet?

After a while the conversation turns more serious and Busty Czech says something to me that I think is the crux of whatever she’s thinking, feeling and fearing.

“You’re such a strong personality that I’m concerned that I’m going to be dominated.”

After a moment of contemplation I say, “You know, sometimes our fears blind us to opportunity.”

I let the ensuing silence brew so that she can take that in and make of it what she wants. If she is too scared of me or a relationship, then she isn’t right for me. I am now starting to have my own doubts about her suitability for me because of all this unnecessary emotional chaos. It’s been barely twenty-four hours since we last saw each other and I’ve said or done nothing new.

Her words also reveal that she is thinking of a relationship too. More importantly it tells me that she’s harbouring a hurt that hasn’t healed yet. I don’t know that much about her previous men, but it seems at least one was the domineering type. Here we go again, I’m being punished for someone else’s insecurities and mistakes.

At the back of my head I hear a clanking and crashing of strained metal as a roller-coaster lurches forward, starting its run. Is Busty Czech about to strap me to my seat and make me her hostage as we hurtle along emotional ups and downs at breakneck speed? Is she like some of the other women I’ve met? I hope not.

My old White Knight self would have been excited at the prospect of nursing someone back to health, because it’s logical that she’ll love me. The Grey Knight me knows that this is a fool’s paradise. Everlasting love only happens between two emotionally healthy people. A relationship is only as strong as its weakest member.

We make some more small talk and the call ends far more positively than how it had started. Busty Czech was speaking and breathing normally it seemed. I had succeeded in calming and soothing her, but who knew what she would do to herself emotionally overnight.

What would she let her hurt do to her?

Christina Aguilera – Hurt

Date #48 – Busty Czech

I didn’t really get much further than infatuation with The Brazilian before dumping her. It wasn’t easy, but it was the right thing to do. I’m taking a little time-out from dating, to clear the arteries of my soul, flushing out the detritus of the recent flinglet, I’m writing about my previous dates when I look up The Model on Facebook to see what’s happened in her world. Amongst her friends was a face I had seen somewhere before and I quickly realized it was from my Happy Humping Ground dating site.

Earlier in the year, when I had started seeing Busty Blonde, my subscription to the site was approaching expiration and I hadn’t visited it in months. I made one final visit to see who I might be missing out on. (My doing so should have told me something but I was blind to it.) There was one profile that stood out, a Czech lady who had written an original profile that hinted at a heart as well as a brain. I chose not to write to her because I thought the odds of success was low. With only two days of my membership to go, she might not respond in time and I was still feeling a sense of commitment to Busty Blonde. Typically, a few days after my membership ended, the Czech lady showed initiative and wrote to me. I couldn’t read her message and for all I knew she was blowing raspberries at me, so I forgot about her.

Imagine then my surprise when I saw her picture again more than six months later on Facebook. Yes, her face is that memorable and yes, my memory is that good. Busty Blonde has left my scene, the fling with The Brazilian ended three weeks ago and I’m still on the trail of love, albeit less proactively than before.

I revisit my Happy Humping Ground dating site to re-read the Czech lady’s profile. Yes, she’s all that I remember and she’s interested in me. That’s very flattering to a fragile ego. Any man on a dating site will tell you that it’s rare to get an approach email from a woman, so when it happens he takes the writer very seriously. It’s one of the reasons why scammers and catfish are so successful on dating sites.

While I’m on this site I come across a profile that freezes me in my seat. It’s of a woman with the perfect face, a Mona Lisa smile and sparkling green eyes. I investigate this profile and she’s as close to perfect in her choice of words as I have ever seen. I even do a Google image search which reveals her name and profession; I follow her online presence. I think of her as The Artist. At any other time I would have approached her, but my subscription has run out and it’s a pricey one. The odds of her responding are small even if I did. No, I’ll leave this be for now. One woman at a time.

I check out the Czech lady’s Facebook profile and think to myself, “Fuck it, I’ll send her a ‘friend request’ and a polite message. I have nothing to lose.”

Within an hour the Czech lady accepts my request and we start swapping messages via Facebook. One of the first questions she asked me struck me as a bit odd.

I know this is a weird question but can you pls tell me how tall you are.

I tell her that I’m over six foot tall and she quickly responds with:

Sorry I only asked as I don’t feel comfortable being taller than a guy.

I still shake my head in disbelief that women are so obsessed with a man’s height, but we men are obsessed about female attributes too. I wonder what my dating life would be like if I wasn’t tall with a head full of dark hair. Pretty much like my best friend’s, who is short and balding, i.e. quiet.

After that question we engage in good positive banter and by the end of it we have agreed to meet on the coming Sunday. She was uncertain about her ability to travel far, which puzzles me but I say nothing, so I leave it to her to suggest somewhere that suits her. The next morning was a Thursday and it started off with a text message from the Czech lady with the details of our meeting. Over the course of the day we swapped several dozen messages. She certainly was keen; almost too keen.

The next day she was having lunch with The Model and later that evening she sent me a text message with a few details of her friend’s positive reaction. Initially I thought this very sweet, but my secondary reaction was to wonder about her mental state a little. She seems unusually upbeat and positive. Did The Model give me a glowing review?

Is she The One? Or is she another nutcase? Time will tell.

It’s a stiflingly hot Sunday in late July as I sit in the shade on the patio of the pub she has nominated. As usual I got here early and bought a cold cider before finding a good table. She’s now a quarter of an hour late; women seem to think it a good thing to be late. They’re wrong; it sets a negative tone.

I hear a sweet, cheery “Hello” from behind me, I turn and it is a smiling her. I stand to greet the Czech lady and am instantly struck by how tall she is and, I must confess, better looking in real life than what I was expecting. I am so used to women not being as attractive as their chosen public photos that I’ve learned to brace myself for the worst.

She’s wearing tasteful three-quarter length khaki trousers and a light floral patterned Summer blouse. It looks like she’s just been to the hair salon; I don’t think she’s a natural blonde. I can’t help but notice two other things about her once she has sat down. First, how many crows feet she has and secondly, how large her breasts are: at least g-cups. After my experience with Busty Blonde I’m starting to think myself an expert on women’s bra sizes by just having a quick look.

After brief banter I go to buy her a regular ginger beer that she asked for, thinking to myself, “spicy drink equals hot lover?” That certainly was the case a few weeks earlier with The Brazilian. Strangely, ginger beer is my favourite non-alcoholic drink.

We get down to making the expected small-talk about how I came to find her on Facebook and our mutual friend. I now begin to think of her as the “Busty Czech”. Her photos hid that attribute well. Large-breasted women do tend to try to hide their assets. Men make it very obvious when they stare at a woman’s boobs and it must get annoying very quickly.

Busty Czech seemed very nervous for the first few minutes, catching her breath as she spoke, sitting erect on the edge of her chair, as if she was on a job interview. I was my usual calm, relaxed self, sitting back in my seat, speaking slowly and smiling politely. Hell, after all the dates I’ve been on this was my now natural demeanour; I didn’t even have to think about it any more, my performance has become natural.

I fear that I am becoming Hank Moody, the lead character from Californication. All the women whom I’ve introduced to this show seem to love this character. I ask them why and the answer is almost always the same: “He just doesn’t give a shit.” For some reason women like that in a man. The more relaxed I am on a date, even bordering on louche, the more women seem to want me.

Because she is so nervous, I just let her do the talking, occasionally asking a question that spurs her to talk more. I can’t help but look at her breasts whenever she looks away. I can almost feel the weight of them in my hands. I can just imagine resting my cock between them and having her push her breasts together, burying my cock with ease.

For some reason Busty Czech hasn’t had lunch, so we go into the pub’s restaurant and share a pleasant meal. We make polite small-talk and I think it safe to say that we get along very well. She has calmed down and is laughing more naturally, which I now know to be a good sign. With dessert and drinks finished, the bill arrives and she offers to pay her half.

“I’m very old-fashioned. With me the gentleman always pays,” I say with a smile.

Her smile and aura tell me that she wants to throw her arms around me and kiss me. It’s nice to be with a woman who genuinely appreciates my old-fashioned gestures.

The Busty Czech goes back out to the patio to find us a table while I get us more drinks at the bar. She finds a quiet table away from rowdy children, her thoughtful attention to detail is not lost on me. She gives me a beautiful smile as I join her with our cold drinks. I’ve barely sat down when she speaks.

“I’m recovering from a bad illness for the past few months. It started in May and I’ve only recently gone back to work,” she says, as if confessing something.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you over it?” I respond.

“No, not completely. I’m only working half days and at the end of it I’m exhausted.”

She is clearly physically not healthy. But what of her emotional and psychological state I wonder. Severe illness takes it toll in unseen ways. She elaborates enough for me to fill in the blanks.

“What has really surprised me is how this illness has knocked my confidence. Being bed-ridden for a month and then going out into the world again, it feels like I’m learning everything for the first time again,” she confides.

So she was not mentally or emotionally healthy too it seems. It’s a red flag because she’s not herself. Her judgement is questionable, she’s operating from a position of weakness, her feelings towards me will change when she feels better. I might see her differently then too.

Nevertheless, I like her because I can see that she is a good, gentle, decent woman, someone I can trust and any relationship with her would be a relatively easy one. Yes, I’m thinking relationship so soon already…again. I wasn’t expecting this, instead expecting just another date.

Silently enthused with my findings so far, I sound her out with my walk in the Magical Forest. Her answers are: 1) “I’d climb a tree”. This tells me that she runs from her problems. Most people give that answer. 2) “I take my clothes off and go for a swim”. That tells me that she loves being in love, the same as me. 3) “If there was cheesecake on it, I’d help myself, but if there wasn’t any then I’d knock and ask for permission to eat something.” I find that an interesting answer. It suggests to me that she could lose control for the right thing (or person) but would otherwise show restraint and respect towards life and its participants.

After my experience with The Brazilian I’ve come to the conclusion that the most important answer was the second one, the waterfall that is a metaphor for love. If my other half has a very different approach to love, then it just isn’t going to work between us. Dealing with problems and approach to life are now secondary to me, because I can provide the leadership and strength for that in a relationship; that would be nothing new for me.

She laughs heartily about this little quiz and finds it charming. I’m relieved at her reaction because some women don’t like to be psychoanalyzed like that. To inject a sense of fairness I tell her my own answers and she appreciates the insights I share. She is good-natured and not easily offended. That’s a welcome change from some of the bags and bitches I’ve met.

With a bit of deft coaxing Busty Czech tells me more about her life before today. It sounds like a typical London Girl’s existence. Weekly drinks with the girls, shopping for unnecessary things on weekends, watching box-sets alone at night, binge drinking and eating, boring job, arsehole boss, crazy exes, the occasional online date.

ABBA’s “The Day Before You Came” springs to mind, not because I’m looking to play the hero who rescues her and whisks her away from it all in a whirlwind romance, but because of the monotony of her existence…and the touch of sadness that I detect in her tone.

“Can I ask you a favour?” she says.

“Sure,” I say. What’s coming my way now? It’s been going so well.

“Can you give me a lift home? I’m a bit tired and these heels are murder,” she says, nodding towards her feet.

Only now do I spot that her heels are almost two inches high. Oh, that means she walked here. Not very practical. No wonder she was late. Hang on, is she inviting me back to her place? Sex on the first date? Er, no, I’ll resist the urge. I don’t want to start a relationship wearing pussy-vision; got to stop doing that.

I lead her to my car and her jaw drops when I open the passenger door for her. I guess she’s not used to being treated like a lady. I wonder how she’ll react if I ever get her on The Hook? Hmm, yes, sex with her…yes, please.

Driving just two blocks I pull up outside where she lives and we sit in the car saying our goodbye. She leans over to give me a quick kiss on the lips, which makes me smile. It was a daring thing for a woman to do, to make the first move like that. She has an adventurous side to her. I sense that she has enjoyed her time with me and that she is now in a very upbeat mood. I decide to go for it, to make my own move, a more important one.

“I don’t normally do this so quickly, but have a think about whether or not you want to see me again,” I pause deliberately and watch her eyes widen before continuing, “…because I’d like to see you again.”

“Oh yes, I’d love to see you again. There’s nothing to think about, I know,” she instantly shoots back.

With my nearest free hand I cup the back of her head and gently guide her to my face…and I close my eyes and as if by auto-pilot our lips find each other’s. You can tell a lot from a kiss; if it feels like a natural match then any relationship will be of a similar style too. Our lips are a good match as I feel her body rise slightly. After a couple of seconds her little tongue slips into my mouth, something I’ve never really enjoyed, but appreciate the effect that it has for a woman. The significance of her doing this isn’t lost on me; she fancies me too.

Busty Czech gives me one of her beautiful smiles, gets out my car, carefully closes the door and walks up to her front door. I watch this lady disappear through that portal to her routine that might just have come to an end.

Could I fall in love with her? Perhaps, but I don’t get that feeling after our first date. I think that the very recent experience with The Brazilian has shaken my confidence in my judgement. I resolve to not get carried away with my feelings and hopes, because disappointment is becoming my constant companion.

ABBA – The Day Before You Came

Online dating profiles

I’m taking an hiatus from online dating until someone remarkable catches my eye. I’m reflecting on my two years on the dating scene. Two years of drama, craziness, varying degrees of sex, times of learning, episodes of amazement and downright determination.

I have some tips that I’d like to share with you. This is going to be the first of some of the lessons I’ve learned about modern dating. Today deals with dating profiles and the build-up to a date.

Online dating has a visual bias, there is no denying this. With just one look we can form an impression of someone, or worse, an attachment. We are likely to click on someone we like the look of because that is how we are attracted to someone in the real world too. It is no surprise then that people whose profiles have no photos included have a quieter dating life. That’s to say I’m talking about a conventional dating site and not esoteric sexual niche websites. If you are on a regular site and you never get messages, then you might get the impression that nobody likes you.

Nobody likes me.
Nobody likes me.

It might be that your profile isn’t working for you and it needs some attention and thought. A sense of rejection on a dating site should not discourage anyone or give them reason to embark on desperate measures to entice someone into their life.

Van for offine dating. Sweets optional.
Van for offine dating. Sweets optional.

Once you’ve spruced up your dating profile you’ll start to get attention and eventually somebody will seem worthwhile to meet for a date. You’re not attracted to everyone so don’t expect everyone to be attracted to you. Attraction isn’t a choice and you might be surprised by who finds you attractive. An open mind is key.

First date potential.
First date potential.

It is vital to project the correct image, so give some thought to the photos you’ll be using. Often your favourite photo might send out the wrong message if you’re not careful. Many people like to include their cherished pet in their photos in a hope to attract someone who has a liking for the same creature. Sometimes this can backfire.

A man's favourite pet.
A man’s favourite pet.

At the same time it is good practice to scrutinize the photos that someone has chosen to post on their profile. Look away from their face and see what the surroundings can tell you. You might spot a few warning signs. For example, they claim to be a non-smoker but all their photos show them holding a cigarette.

Check details in photos.
Check details in photos.

As a general rule I would advise against meeting someone if you don’t know what they look like. This applies to men and women. A look of surprise or disappointment on your face might not be the best start to the date.

Your next blind date?
Your next blind date?

Because of the nature of the internet being a relatively anonymous medium, there are people who abuse dating sites for their own ends. Occasionally you’ll encounter people who are not even the gender they claim and often they are after money.

Anybody can pretend to be somebody online.
Anybody can pretend to be somebody online.

If you’re a guy looking for a gal, with time you’ll learn that there is a code that women use in their dating profiles. Their narratives after a while start to have similar terms. With a bit of dating practise you’ll crack the code.

Women code for dating profiles.
Women code for dating profiles.

If you’re a lady then I must inform you that, sadly, not all men on dating sites are as they portray themselves to be. Men are likely to lie about their jobs, height and relationship status. This is not the norm, so don’t let a few bad apples spoil the cider.

Some men lie on their dating profiles.
Some men lie on their dating profiles.

I have noticed that there are far more attractive women then attractive men on dating sites. That can work in a chap’s favour, not because he might be handsome, but because he has the confidence that women appreciate.

Nobody is out of your league.
Nobody is out of your league.

I have it on good authority that modern online dating is also prone to some rather unusual behaviour. Sexting, the swapping of intimate photos, is becoming commonplace, so much so that some men consider it standard practice. Don’t let anyone intimidate you into doing this.

Sexting extortion
Sexting extortion

In the same vein there are women who are pretty explicit about what their needs and wants are. A camera-phone and mirror is often involved.

Lick it. Women can be explicit too.
Lick it. Women can be explicit too.

It’s a common and easy mistake to develop an online crush on someone before you’ve met them. Don’t spend too much time swapping messages and phone-calls because you might create a false impression of someone who is radically different in real life.

Not everyone on the dating scene is sane.
Not everyone on the dating scene is sane.

What matters most when going dating is having a clear idea of what you’re about and who you want to meet. Keeping that in mind should keep you out of trouble…unless trouble is what you’re looking for. 😉

Your self-perception is vital.
Your self-perception is vital.

Just please be careful not to fall for someone on the basis of just one look at their dating profile.

Happy dating!

The Grey Knight

Doris Troy – Just one look

Love revisited

In my two years on the dating scene I’ve come a long way, but I don’t feel any closer to my final destination: true love. I’ve had tremendous up and downs and not just in the bedroom. I’m older and wiser, but still don’t have what I want and, as I am discovering about myself, need. What exactly is this thing that I want and need so badly, this thing known as love?

Some time ago I wrote about love ( http://www.meanddating.com/2015/05/monday-morning-blues-why-love/ ) and since then my thoughts about love have evolved.

I think we all have our own idea of what love is. That’s part of the problem: finding someone who shares our idea of love. The love I offer is unlimited in quantity, devoid of conditions and free of boundaries. I’ve come to realize that finding someone who offers the same is incredibly rare.

There are quotes about love that resonate with me.

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Don’t settle for the one you can live with…wait for the one you can’t live without.

The first quote speaks of a life together, a more mature love, while the second speaks of meaning.

I’ve come to realize that what I am seeking is meaning to my life. I am not a selfish person and that is a problem in the world I find myself in because it seems to me that ninety percent of people are selfish by nature. Yes, I know that’s the way it has been and always will be, but I find it sad. Being a Giver in a world of Takers is a lonely, frustrating experience.

I’ve also realized that my need to give love is greater than my desire to receive it. It has been why I have become embroiled with women who are patently unsuitable to me. My greed for love overwhelmed my fear of hurt and failure. My greed blinded me to danger which, when love is concerned, must be eminently better than being paralysed by fear. So many of the women I’ve met have been controlled by their fears, looking backwards when they should be looking forwards, looking at the person they have before them and not punishing them for someone else’s mistakes.

The love I seek isn’t driven by fear. I don’t fear growing old alone. I don’t fear not knowing what being a father is all about. I don’t fear never loving someone again.

I just want to spend what’s left of my life feeling loved and loving that person too. Our love for each other would be so strong that, even after I’ve died, when she has lunch or dinner, she will prop up a photo of me next to her plate. I would do the same.

When I’m with her I want to feel like the luckiest man in the world because I’m with her. I want to see it in her eyes, I want to feel it in her touch, that she loves me. It would be nice to meet someone who, when she looks at me then closes her eyes, she likes what she sees.

Billy Joel put it best, “I don’t need clever conversation, I never want to work that hard”. I want and need good conversation; I offer it too. We make each other laugh, we make each other think, our words make each other feel good. With me she’ll never have wrinkles, only laughter lines.

Physical attraction is common, but a mental connection is rare.
Physical attraction is common, but a mental connection is rare.

I can’t wait to have Her sitting by my side, complaining of sore feet from all the walking we’ve done that day. I’ll go get some moisturiser, flop her onto her back, take her shoes off, rub the lotion warm in my hands and give her a foot massage that relaxes her. I want to do this not because I want anything in return, no, I’ll do this because I love her. Her pleasure is my pleasure.

However, I have unresolved issues, reservations and questions about love.

Is my idea of love sound? Is what I am looking for possible? Am I deluded in some way? Am I wasting my time? Do I really know what love is? Not for a moment do I think I have all the answers, but I certainly have a lot of questions.

And what of when it goes wrong? Where does love go to die? Does it evaporate up into the heavens, eventually falling back to earth as rain, so that the sky cries with us? If so, then when it rains, does it mean someone’s heart is breaking?

As much as I want to share my life with someone special, I know that I value my sense of freedom that I’m enjoying at the moment. Do I have to trade one for the other? Does a woman’s sense of security come at the price of a man’s sense of freedom? I’m in no hurry to want to live with someone, but do want to spend a good amount of time with her. Do we have to live together? I think not. I hope she’s of a like mind.

I wonder if I am destined to roam freely from one kind of fling to another, experiencing more than any man can hope to experience in his lifetime, getting to know in gritty detail all the sins of the flesh, learning all there is to know about womankind, but like a tormented ghost, to never succumb to the greatest thing that life has to offer: love.

Perhaps the fault all along has lain on my side in that my expectations are greater than what is possible or likely? Was I too hasty with The Brazilian? Should I have met Baltic Babe halfway and had a child with her? Should I have taken things easier and slower with Krazy Girl? Should I have stayed with Sweet Thing and Busty Blonde? The answer to all these questions is a resounding ‘no!’.

The love that was on offer with all those women just wasn’t good enough. Any relationship would not have worked in the long run. The eternal conundrum of either trying harder to make it work or walking away always had an obvious answer to me, but I took too long with Busty Blonde. Sadly it was her turn to be a victim of love.

I’m starting to think that I am capable of a greater love than anybody I have ever met. I don’t want to be anybody’s true north or the one who completes them. I don’t want that responsibility. All I want is for her to see the real me, appreciate all that she sees in me and just love me. In return I shall do the same…as a minimum.

The famous astronomer, Sir Patrick Moore, had a secret side to him. We all do, but his must have been beautiful. During World War Two he was a navigator on a British bomber, regularly flying to Germany to drop bombs on people. It was only a matter of time before he was killed; all bomber crews knew this, but they went anyway. Heroes every one of them. Because of the short life expectancy, people in those times threw themselves with gusto at life. They knew that every day could, literally, be their last. He became engaged to marry a girl that he had fallen in love with. In a German air raid over London she was killed. I wonder if the irony of him being bomber crew played on his mind. He survived the war, but was never known to show an interest in another woman. Apparently that part of him died with her. He went to his grave recently, never having loved again. Now that is true love…or true heartbreak. I think I know how he could have felt.

I watched “A Message in a Bottle” by myself last night. I had tears in my eyes at the end. The Brazilian would like that movie because it ends in disappointment, an outcome and feeling that she is comfortable with. The female protagonist in the movie is the sort of woman I want to meet. She has a big heart, attractive, and willing to do anything for love. Does such a woman exist? I guess seeing as it’s derived from a fictional book that the characters are symbolic of what men and women aspire to in the opposite gender but never find. The thing is that Kevin Costner’s character, Garret Blake, is so much like me. I too would have dived into the sea to rescue total strangers.

I guess I’m a fool for love, a love-fool and I don’t care if it makes a fool of me.

I also don’t care what price I have to pay because I’m looking for my last first kiss.

Where are you?

Raindrops on windows, my thoughts are of you
The teardrops on my pillow look like dew.
This loneliness is becoming too much to bear
I just want someone I love to equally care.

I see you when I’m out and about
Across the crowd I want to shout.
“I’m over here, all this time, right here!”
If I did their looks will be of fear.

So instead we stare with sly eyes
And we go home alone to fantasize.
We think there’s something wrong with us
Too scared to talk to that stranger on the bus.

This life with no meaning, this walking alone
Am I being punished for a deed I must atone?
I have met so many, yet wanted so few
Is every step taking me closer to you?

I look forward to us being two
Oh, where are you?

Foreigner – I Want To Know What Love Is

Bitch profile dissected

I came across a pretty face on PoF, read her words then laughed to myself. I was having a moment of deja moo: I’ve seen this bullshit before. First I’ll show you her words, then I’ll show them again with the subtext garnered from my years of experience. This might be shocking to some but these are the things I’ve learned after having conversed with hundreds of women, dated almost fifty and tried to have a relationship with a few.


About Me

I am here beacuse my friend says it’s fun. We shall see. 😉

I am looking for someone who doesn’t like to make drama.

I ride my blue bike wearing my Vans shoes and my Burberry trench coat on my way to work, I hate public transport!

I always say what I want in general but sometimes I think first.

If all you can talk about is sex or if your lookig for a booty call, don’t even bother to message. I will find you boring straight away.

I work for a luxury fashion retail. I love good food, movies and talking to intelligent ppl.

First Date
Out for a drink or dinner when we could have a proper conversation. 🙂


Seems sweet, fun and harmless, right? Not so. Here’s what two years of interacting with women like her has taught me what lurks beneath the surface of her hastily contrived online facade.


About Me

I am here beacuse my friend says it’s fun. We shall see. 😉
[Spelling error indicates her disdain for all this; can’t be bothered to check her writing. Doesn’t really want to be doing this; it’s half-hearted to appease a friend. The only way people get her to do anything is to nag her. Willing to deceive a friend. Judgemental – will swap endless emails with a guy and never go on a date with him. She will be picky and high maintenance.]

I am looking for someone who doesn’t like to make drama.
[Because she’ll provide it all, I assure you. Has a turbulent history with men. English might not be her first language.]

I ride my blue bike wearing my Vans shoes and my Burberry trench coat on my way to work, I hate public transport!
[Fashion-slave; abhors practicality, snob; likely to die in cycling accident on way to work because she’s always right.]

I always say what I want in general but sometimes I think first.
[Tactless, outspoken loudmouth who will embarrass anybody and everybody anywhere. Opinionated and headstrong. Major reasons for her being single.]

If all you can talk about is sex or if your lookig for a booty call, don’t even bother to message. I will find you boring straight away.
[She’s getting irritated by having to write this, it’s so beneath her, hence another spelling error. Eventually finds all men boring, another reason she’s single. Hasn’t had sex in a while, hence her bringing it up and being on this site. Probably needs a regular good shagging to calm her down.]

I work for a luxury fashion retail. I love good food, movies and talking to intelligent ppl.
[I’m demanding, hard work. My job defines who I am. Social status is important in my world, so you better have a good job. She doesn’t earn that much hence being on a free site. Will ultimately be disappointed by calibre of men on PoF and will speak badly of online dating because of it. Bad grammar and text speak confirm her not being English. If you’re good-looking, have money, can cook and are intelligent, I’ll spread my legs for you.]

First Date
Out for a drink or dinner when we could have a proper conversation. 🙂
[You’re paying mister but only after countless silly emails spanning weeks but will dash off to meet a guy if he’s really good looking because she’s shallow. She loves getting stuck into a good debate, probably likes to argue as a form of foreplay. On the positive side, she’s clearly a sapiophile, so a brainy hunk will get her wet in a matter of minutes.]


Her only email setting contact criteria is that the man has a photo; looks matter a lot to her. This setting also hints at her not really expecting a long-lasting relationship, just a fling. This superficial airhead has no redeeming value to men other than as a brief sex toy, which will quickly become predictable and boring because she knows what she likes and that’s all she’ll do. She probably won’t give oral but will gladly accept it.

She has eight photos to her profile; the typical woman has just four. The more photos a woman has the higher the opinion of herself and vice versa. Self-esteem has bubbled over into self-obsessed with this girl. Any kind of relationship will be all about her. She’s a classic Taker.

Two years ago I would have thought her a sweet-hearted neophyte gingerly feeling her way through the world. She’s probably a recent arrival in London looking to broaden her social circle. Her job and its trappings have wowed her and she’s revelling in the experience of luxury. She knows what she likes and won’t be easily swayed. She has a mind of her own and isn’t afraid of expressing herself.

Such a naïve outlook has been replaced by my current more educated view of a woman such as her. There was a time when I would have approached her, but I’m wiser now and give such women a wide berth. Depending on the website, a quarter to a half of profiles will be like hers. This is not indicative of womankind, but says more about dating sites because women like her linger longer.

She’s becoming a typical London girl, portraying herself to anyone who will listen that she’s a “strong, independent woman.” There’s a special aisle in a supermarket designed just for her. It has wine, ready-meals and cat food, all located together for her convenience.

Undateable singleton aisle.
Undateable singleton aisle.

If I woke up next to this girl and she was sleeping on my arm, I would rather gnaw my arm off than wake her.

I find it interesting that the same world I have known for so long I am now seeing through different eyes. My education continues and I know it’s not complete.

Depeche Mode – World in My Eyes

Previous dates and near misses

The disappointment of The Brazilian has taken the wind out of my sales. As I write this, I’m trying to have a galia melon for breakfast, but I’m struggling to swallow it, such is my emotional state at the moment. Stupid me had high hopes for her.

A week after sending her my goodbye text message , driven by a sense of curiosity, I sent her another message. I figured I had nothing to lose and if she answered I would have more of an idea about what was going on in her head. I wasn’t hoping for a reconciliation in the way her favourite movie storylines go, but wanted to further my education about women. My message read, “I’m really curious about something: what was it that I said or did that put you off me?

To my amazement her reply came within half an hour and it read, “Nothing much really apart from your last text!! Unfortunately then that made me think about distance, work, commitments I’m not ready to have, lifestyle and so on. Maybe we shared too much information too soon as well, but that doesn’t matter. I was very put off by your last text. And I don’t think I can deal with that at all.

From that message I took it that she was scared and commitment was her issue. I also deduce that she wasn’t so taken by me that her fears and issues were overwhelmed. Her loss. I’ve learned that the two strongest human emotions are fear and greed. Fear has kept our species alive. Our greed has kept us evolving. In my experience when someone says ‘not ready’ it means they are being governed by their fear(s). It takes someone who taps into their greed for something – lust, intimacy, acceptance, love, whatever because it varies – to make them ignore their fear.

The Brazilian’s heart is fragile and scared. She’s in passive-defensive mode, waiting for any man to say or do one wrong thing and she’s gone. It’s an example of the Grey Knight’s First Law of Dating Physics: for every male action there is a disproportionate female over-reaction.

I am also firmly of the opinion that there was at least one other person on the scene, the person whom she was seeing on Wednesday nights far away from her home.

It occurs to me that it is two years since I went online dating. This gives me pause to remember and wonder what has happened to some of the women I’ve met, as well as the ones I wanted to meet but didn’t get to.

First, the women I did get to meet…

Tech Titan I’m still in touch with, but strictly as friends. She and her boyfriend have just got back from two weeks in the Seychelles, where he proposed to her. I’m happy for her, but he only got divorced a year ago.

Baltic Babe has married her Frenchman. LinkedIn sent me an update with her new surname, so I check out her Facebook page, but she has tightened her security settings and I garner nothing new. I find his Facebook and LinkedIn profile. Let’s just say that he has a face for radio. He must be able to lick his eyebrows. Good luck to them both.

As I sit writing about my dates with The Model, looking back over our email and text conversations, it’s now – yes, only now because I’ve had no reason to think about this – becoming apparent to me that she was dating at least one other person. There were the classic lies/excuses of being at the gym, falling asleep in front of the tv, always getting her voicemail. I was totally blind to it at the time; it was my early days of dating. Apparently all’s fair in love and war. I’m starting to understand what that means.

Krazy Gal got herself a new job then lost it three months later. She’s unemployed again and still living with her parents it seems.

I come across Delicate Flower on Plenty of Fish (PoF). She uses the same photos from when we met 2 years ago. I know that she is now 37 going on 38, but she says on her profile she’s 33. She’s also decided that she wants kids. We swap some emails, but when I suggested that we meet for coffee it seems she blocked me because the message history disappeared. I just wanted to chat with her because I enjoy her company. I wasn’t interested in sex because she is an awful lay. I leave matters there.

PoF also tells me that Angry Yank has changed her location to Greater Boston. Does that mean her visa was running out when we met?

I noticed on the national newspaper’s dating site that Musician Gal has blocked me from contacting her. I find that funny. She was recently active on the site.

I search online for Lusty Lass and can’t find her anywhere. Her Facebook page that I have seen before has disappeared. Our LinkedIn connection has been disconnected and her profile is gone. I do a Google search and find out she had declared herself bankrupt in 2010, probably because of her divorce. When we met in July 2013 she was working for a firm on the outskirts of London, but in early 2014 she had a so-called ‘condition’ set against her by her industry’s governing body that she could not work with client monies. Then latterly she had the same condition set against her but this time she was working for a firm on the opposite end of London. The new firm doesn’t have her on their website as a staff member. Doing a search on her profession’s register returns a blank. Has she been silly and lost her accreditation? She has a penchant for bringing drama into her life.

Cat Lady has acquired a second cat and from the photos she posts on Facebook is spending her evenings knitting things for the kitten.

Busty Blonde has landed her dream job and is still active on the dating site where we met. I hope she meets someone better than me.

Now for the women I didn’t get to meet, the near-misses as I now think of them. These are only some of the women whom I spent time swapping messages with but who couldn’t bring themselves to actually meet me for a date.

A New Zealander whom I was very keen to meet but disappeared when I suggested a date has updated her location on PoF as now being in Sydney, Australia. We interacted a month ago, just before I met The Brazilian.

A local lady and I struck up a great online conversation and agreed to a date. On the Saturday in question she sent me a message at 5am saying that she couldn’t bring herself to meet me that day. I see on PoF that she has changed her profile to say that she “wants to get married”. I would have met her for a date if she suggested rescheduling, but now that I know what her agenda is, I’m put off her.

Last night I was flipping through Tinder when I recognised a pretty blonde whom I had seen on my Happy Humping Ground dating site. On Tinder it shows her name and that she is 41. I find her dating profile where she claims to be 35 and looking to meet men aged 26 to 34! I guess she’s just looking for mindless sex. She’s just the sort of woman I’m visually attracted to; perhaps more proof that the look I like is the wrong sort of person for me.

I love a good, shocking surprise…a woman I noticed on one dating site reveals on another site that she is bisexual.

A lady in my town who approached me and was very keen to meet up, but ended up flaking on me an hour before we were supposed to meet in a local pub has updated her location as being in the north of the country now.

I got an approach email on PoF from someone who looked interesting. Then I noticed that she said that she does drugs on a social basis. I pointed that out to her and said that if it wasn’t for that I would have been happy to meet her for a date. I hear nothing but check her profile the next day to see that she’s changed it to “no drugs”. I write to her but the PoF system says that she has blocked me. She is now someone else’s nightmare in the making.

A woman I’ve swapped messages with in the past responds with “I’m in lurker mode.” What the fuck is that? It’s a woman playing games. There are so many of them on dating sites. They love the attention, will swap endless emails but will never agree to meet for a date. They are not emotionally ready for a relationship. They draw power from the emails, they feel better about themselves for being on a dating site, but they are not relationship material. They’re too fucked up. They eventually acquire cats and their brains are addled with toxoplasmosis. They agree to meet within 6 emails or they’re history.

I’m starting to think that flaky women are just a waste of time. The best encounters, the smoothest experiences have started well and gone well from there. Bad or broken communication is a warning sign; it’s how they operate and will do so in a relationship too.

I’ve realized something: For much of my early dating experiences I was in a mild state of delirium. The disappointment of the Exgf destabilised me, Baltic Babe knocked me over and Krazy Girl stomped me into the ground.

All these women have taken something from me. I don’t exactly know what it is, but I know I lack it. Whatever it was, I want it back. Through Busty Blonde I’m getting to see that an innocence and naiveté I had is gone. That hasn’t made me a better person, instead a more cynical one. I don’t think its that, however. I think it’s a goodness that gave me an arrogant strength is what is gone. It gave me the notion that when it came to relationships, I was better than most men. Now that I have experienced what I have, I feel like I am like other men carrying the same weariness and delusion that they do. I am no longer as special as I once was. Can I be that again, or is the best that I can hope for a different me, built on the ruins of the old? Time will tell.

For the first time ever, the thought of another first date makes my stomach turn. I’m struggling to believe that The One is out there. I’m fully aware that these are my salad days and that I should be out there, mixing and mingling, because I’ve never going to be as good looking and energetic as I am now. Yesterday I found a grey hair in a sideburn; it’s life reminding me that old age is creeping up on me. At the moment I’m just not interested in women.

Thunder is beating its drum and lightning is crackling across the sky outside my window. My window on life. I’ve spent much time looking out that window, wondering about what is and about what could be, even what should be, but the latter only causes me pain. Of course I would love to lie on my lounge floor with Her by my side, whoever Her might be, the one that I am longing to meet, longing so much that at times it hurts. I’ve never had a problem with being alone, but lately I’ve been feeling lonely. That horrible old feeling is back again, to tease and torment me.

After this short and slightly nasty experience with The Brazilian that has left a bitter taste in my mouth, I’ve come to accept that I’m destined to be alone for some time yet. I’ll see it as paying my dues, serving my apprenticeship, hoping that one day I shall be rewarded. Of course there’s no way of knowing what the future holds and it might just be a massive, echoing nothingness for me. A dried up empty husk, devoid of life and of no use to anyone – that is what my love life might hold. It’s a fate that I choose not to think too much about for fear of it depressing and then paralysing me.

My friend, you’re a tourist in the jail that is my dating life, I’m a prisoner here.

Michael Buble – Haven’t Met You Yet