Welshboy lived an hour away from me but was still keen to come to Bristol where I was living to meet up one weekend. We had met on match back in the day when I was still on there and had been messaging each other for about a week.  On the morning of the day we were due to met, we were making arrangements for the evening by text. He wanted to go for a drink somewhere in the centre so we decided on a place and a time.

‘Ok 7 sounds good, what time shall I come to yours?’he texts.

‘Come to mine? We’re meeting in the centre aren’t we?’ I reply.

‘But I’ll need to come to yours first so what time is good for that?’

‘????!!!!!’ I think.

‘Why will you need to come to mine first?’ I ask.

‘Well to drop my stuff off of course. ‘

‘What do you mean drop your stuff off? What stuff do you need to drop off?’ I write,  feeling increasingly alarmed.

‘My bag with all my overnight things in. ‘

His overnight things?! What?! It sounds like he will be staying overnight in Bristol and as he wants to drop it at my house, I hope he isn’t planning for it to be there!

‘I need to drop my stuff at your house where I will be staying the night before we go out, I won’t be able to take it out with me! ‘ he says, as if I am being really slow and lacking in common sense and not grasping some obvious logic.

‘You’re not staying at my house! I haven’t even met you yet, I can’t let a man I haven’t even met stay at my house overnight!’

Welshboy seems a bit put out by this and acts like I am being a very ungracious host and tries to persuade me otherwise.

What planet is he on?! Does he really think I would agree for a stranger off the internet to stay the night at my house when I haven’t even met him?! And to meet him for the first time at my house so he can drop his stuff off?! Does he do this often?! Does he think this is normal?!

Eventually he agrees to stay in a hotel which unfortunately is just up the road from my house. I didn’t think this through well enough, did I.

We meet for a drink at the pub in his hotel and then head into the centre of Bristol. He proceeds to get absolutely hammered while I get a bit tipsy too. I have had a very stressful time of late and fancy letting my hair down a bit. Normally I am quite a sensible and cautious person, but this goes out the window on occasion. This is one of those occasions.

Whilst we lurch from one pub to another, Welshboy suddenly launches himself at me and sticks his tongue down my throat. I am a bit surprised as none of this is adhering to normal first date procedure and I let him kiss me for a few seconds before trying to stop him to continue walking to the next pub, with him hanging onto my arm like a toddler and lunging at my lips every few steps whilst I try to bat him off.  I don’t know whether you’ve ever tried this, but it is a little bit tricky to walk whilst a drunken man keeps diving for your mouth every few seconds.

Obviously, I agreed to let him come back to mine for a drink at the end of the evening, as any sensible, rational person would do in my position. His hotel was just round the corner, and he reassured me that he would only come for one drink and then leave.

I have no idea what I was thinking either (I was tipsy mind, so I obviously wasn’t), it was quite likely I would end up with ‘a situation’ as he was very pissed. I did get the sense that he was harmless though and I wouldn’t be placing myself in any danger. Plus I was letting my hair down and still hadn’t made my mind up what I thought about him. A bit of sex wouldn’t go amiss but I couldn’t decide whether I wanted it with him or not. No I don’t usually have sex on the first date but this wasn’t like a normal first date.

We go back to mine and have another drink and he kisses me again and then I decide that no I don’t want to sleep with him because I don’t fancy him, I am tired and I want to go to bed.

Now how to get rid of him?

I tell him, I’m very very tried and need to go to bed immediately. On my own.

‘Oh please, darling, let me stay’ he moans as he tries to keep kissing me, his hands heading under my clothes. I smack his hands away whilst thinking ‘don’t call me darling’ and stand up to make it clear that it is time for him to leave so I can go to bed.

Welshboy tries several other lines, trying to persuade me to let him stay for just a bit longer whilst I inch towards the doorway, pulling him with me.

I manage to push him into the hallway, whilst he stumbles about still intermittently pouncing at my lips.

‘But I love you.’ he says, his face painted with desire and longing.

‘No you don’t. Come on, you need to go NOW, I want to go to bed NOW.’ I start to become angry and impatient as I have, by this point, said this hundreds of times.

‘You’re so sexy when you get angry. I do love you,’ he slurs, whilst trying to cuddle me.

I shove him to the door, open it and say ‘was nice meeting you,’ whilst manhandling him over the doorstep. ‘Bye’ I say gaily, shutting the door in his face.

Luckily, he leaves and goes back to his hotel- I was having visions of him pounding on the door wailing to let him back in because he loves me and waking all the neighbours up. I trundle relieved up the stairs and to bed.

He texts me in the morning, wanting to meet up for breakfast.

I make excuses and after a few more texts from him which I eventually stop replying to, Welshboy disappears into the nether.


The Surgeon

The surgeon is someone who I met back in my days on Match when I still lived in Bristol.  When I say met, I mean became acquinted with online, because in the end I didn’t end up meeting him.

We had arranged to meet on a Friday night. I was due to fly off abroad the next day. We were making our arrangements for the night over text. This is the conversation we had:

‘So what shall we do tomorrow evening then,’ the surgeon wrote.

I suggest The Cock Inn because it is the nicest pub closest to my house (at this point I am not aware that he is a cock).

‘Just for drinks? Shall we say 6pm ?’ he says.

My usual dating protocol consists of drinks on a first date because it can be a bit awkward eating with someone you’ve never met and you’re stuck in their company for much longer if they are not good company.

I have however broken this rule on a few occasions. As I was flying abroad the next day, I had no food in the house and so wanted no, needed to eat dinner out.

‘Let’s get some food too. I’m flying abroad tomorrow and so have no food in the house.’

‘I will already have eaten. ‘

‘What by 6?’

‘I am going for a bike ride in the afternoon. I will be very hungry after so I will eat dinner at 4.’

‘Ok. But I will have something to eat  because I have no food in the house.’

‘Fine, so how about you get there for 6pm and have something to eat and I will join you later at 7pm?’

Erm no. Howabout not. I don’t think you’ve understand the point of dating. The point is that we do something TOGETHER to get to know each other. Going out to eat on your own is not the usual dating procedure.

‘Well I don’t really want to eat on my own at that pub.’

‘Well you don’t want me there watching you eat, do you. ‘

‘I don’t mind actually. ‘

‘Ok so you’ve got two choices. Either we meet at 6pm and I Watch You Eat. Or you go earlier and eat at 6pm and I’ll join you at 7.’

‘What’s your problem about watching me eat?’

‘I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me watching you eat.’

‘Well as I’ve already said, I don’t mind. I just need to eat.’

‘ Why don’t you eat first and I’ll join you afterwards? Do you think you’ll be finished by 7?’

‘ I’m actually really busy with packing still, so shall we just leave just it for another time. ‘ Or never.

A few hours later I receive this text…..

‘I was really looking forward to our date, I spent all day looking forward to it:( And then you go and cancel it at the last minute which isn’t very nice.’

‘ Well to be honest, I don’t think you’ve got the hang of this wooing and sweeping a lady of her feet thing. Suggesting I eat on my own and you’ll join me later isn’t very nice either.’

He makes a few more attempts to arrange another date, but he’s had his chance and that ship has sailed.

I’ll Pay for your Drink but not your Cake

On paper (well computer screen), Ben seems perfect. We have so much in common and seem to be looking at life through the same lens. I feel excited because it seems like he could be the one, plus he is good looking too.

We arrange to meet at a pub over text, which is much closer to him than to me. Now, after so many dates, I won’t travel far (my absolute limit is 45minutes but preferably no further than 35) and it has to be either half way or closer to me for the first date.

‘There’s a nice little walk we could do too next to the pub,’ Ben suggests.

‘Ok’ I reply, thinking it would be around 40 minutes max as this is what I class as a ‘little walk’.

I arrive at the pub and get out my car and spot him emerging from his van. My first thought is ‘my god he’s tiny,’ as he is actually much shorter than me and at 5 ft 5, I’m hardly tall. My second thought is ‘what the hell’ as an ENORMOUS dog who was the same size as Ben comes bounding out his van.

‘You don’t mind if he comes too, do you,’ he says as the enormous dog jumps up on me and leaves mud all over my clothes.

Now, I am quite a chilled out person so am going to mind less than a lot of women when a big dog jumps on me and leaves mud all over my clothes on a first date, but I can’t say I’m overjoyed. Ben pats the head of the dog proudly and doesn’t apologise or try to stop the horse of a dog trying to hump me.

We (Ben) decide to go for a ‘little walk’ before having a drink. It is a sunny day and there are a lot of other people walking and off we headed along the path to some woods.

Ben keeps saying ‘lets go this way that way forwards and backwards and over the irish sea’- actually no hang on that’s not it, that’s a song- he keeps saying ‘lets go this way and that way, ‘- irish sea is not mentioned. I think I’m going crazy from all the dates I’ve been on, don’t mind me.

Before long there are no people around and we keep on walking and walking and walking. And walking and walking. And walking….

It suddenly strikes me that it isn’t very wise to go on a walk in the woods with some guy off the internet who I’ve only just met.

I suggest going back. We’ve already been walking for over an hour, which is not a ‘little walk’. It is massively muddy and I have grown huge feet of stuck on mud that are heavy to carry around. Luckily being the country bumpkin that I am, I always have walking boots in my car, but most woman going on a date to a pub ‘with a litle walk’ would not.

I am feeling shattered, I am hungover and am not in the mood for a bloody hike.

‘Erm I think it’s this way. No actually it’s that way,’ Ben says. We go that way and come to a barbed wire fence which we can’t get over so obviously it wasn’t that way.

I am feeling very pissed off by this point. It is getting dark and it is cold and being lost in the woods in the dark with some random guy off the internet who I don’t fancy is not my idea of a good time.

Ben is not a very considerate person and doesn’t bother making sure I am ok at tricky points like slippery muddy hills, he is focused on himself. And his dog. Again, guys, if you appear attentive, you will get brownie points, I might not say anything but you can bet I will have noticed.

After two hours we finally arrive back at the pub. As we stand at the bar, I realise I am starving and so I order a drink and a cake.

‘I’ll pay for your drink, but you can pay for your cake,’ Ben says.

Oooookay. I think he might have been better off not paying for any of it than coming across as stingy!

We sit down and I start to eat my cake.

‘Can I have some of your cake.’ Ben asks.

No. Sod off. It’s MY cake which I paid for, keep your hands away from the cake.

‘Yes of course’ says the better, well mannered part of myself graciously, whilst trying to refrain from stabbing his fingers with my fork-  he had after all payed for my drink.

I watch inwardly fuming as he proceeds to eat half my cake. Get your own friggin cake if you’re hungry, I’m hungry, I NEED this cake. Yes, in case you are wondering, I do suffer from hangry.

The conversation isn’t much better. ‘Jo this, Jo that, Jo thinks xyz, a, b and c,  I still go clubbing with Jo. We still go to festivals together too,’ Ben says, whilst blatantly eyeing up the waitress every time she walks past.

Jo is his ex and mother of his child, who clearly he isn’t over yet and who has recently dumped him. I don’t care what Jo thinks. I don’t care about Jo. I don’t want to hear about Jo.

After he finishes my cake, we say our goodbyes.

I drag my weary feet home where I am beyond exhausted. So much for being the one. I don’t hear from him again.

Until about a year later, when he suddenly materialises again and requests my friendship on facebook. To be continued…..

Now Can I send you a Picture of my Dick

In my last post, I mentioned how I moved to POF, because paying a monthly subscription to Match didn’t guarantee you better quality or rule out guys who were only after one thing. I had been chatting to Mark over text for a little while before he asked me out on a date.

At some point during our texting, and again on our date, I mentioned about the catalogue of dick pictures I have received from guys when I haven’t even met them. And even when I specifically and clearly stated, no dick photos thanks when I realised that this was their intention.

I really don’t understand this. What makes you men think that we women want to receive a photo of your dick? Men are the visual ones, with women the brain plays a large part in getting turned on. Everyone knows this surely. It’s why men tend to watch more porn and look at naked women in magazines. It’s also the general consensus amongst both sexes, that women have the more beautiful bodies. Men are straight up and down with a dangly thing in the middle (don’t get more wrong, I love mens bodies, slight muscular arms, chests). But women are the ones with the beautiful curves.

It’s almost like they are little children wanting acknowledgment from their mothers because they’ve done something they are proud of. ‘Well done darling. What a nice willy you have. Aren’t you a clever boy. ‘ Is that what they are after? Or is it, look how manly I am with my big erect penis? Or is it like some kind of flashing and exhibitionism, where they get turned on by exposing themselves to women? Or could it be a case of I’ll show you mine, then you show me yours and they’re hoping if they send a photo, they’ll get one back? The mind boggles.

Anyway, so back to my story, I was telling Mark about all the dick photos I had received and he seemed shocked that men would be so silly as to send these pictures. He made out that he would never stoop to that level, he was better than that. He seemed like a nice guy who was better than that.

He also mentioned about his friend showing him the intimate, naked photos a girl who he was seeing had sent him- this ladies is why you don’t send naked photos of yourselves to someone you don’t trust 100%.

We had been at the pub were we were meeting for less than an hour but it seemed he was getting itchy feet and wanted to go to another pub. I myself don’t understand this, two hours isn’t that long to spend in one pub and it’s a bit of a faff in the countryside to drive 15 minutes to find another one. I realise now that he was probably trying to get closer to my house. It would be easier to get an invitation back to mine then.

So went to the same posh pub as in my last post with Steroids Man . Mark also suggested going for a walk (which seems to be a euphemism for let’s go and have a snog.)We went for a walk and then we did end up kissing lying on the grass near a footpath through the fields where we assumed we would be undisturbed.  Until a woman suddenly rounded the corner and stumbled across us with her dog which was a bit embarrassing for all of us.

Again I was behaving like a reckless teenager when at any minute, any of the other mums from school or someone else I knew could come round the corner; this is what it’s like in the countryside, you are always bumping into people you know in the most random of places.

I suddenly realised the time, and said I had to go because I had to pick my kids up from my mums. I hadn’t actually told him I had kids though so I invented some excuse. I think he was expecting me to invite him back to mine, I don’t know why, because I had made it clear I wasn’t the sort to have sex on a first date. Although I was being the sort to get off with a guy on a first date. I generally have the rule no kissing on first dates though, which has only been broken on one other occasion by Kev, when he launched himself at me, ignoring any body signals I was giving out as to whether I wanted this or not.

‘We should do this again’ he said when we said goodbye, ‘I can’t do in the week but I could do this weekend’. ‘

Later that evening, I received a text from him saying ‘thanks for the evening, was lovely to meet you.’
Likewise’ I replied.
‘Now can I send you a picture of my dick.’ he wrote. I thought he was joking.
‘Haha. Very funny. ‘ I replied.
‘ I want to put my dick in your pussy.’ he wrote. Say what? Excuse me? Is a kiss a green light for this sort of disrespectful messages?
‘You’ve been a very naughty boy, I’m going to have to put you on my knee and spank you.’ I reply because I enjoy the fact that I can say what I like and not care when they start sending me messages like this. A bit like they do.

He doesn’t reply. I don’t care. It wouldn’t be long before a picture of his dick would be making its way to be added to my compilation of dick photos on my phone (which my iphone kindly saves from messages into my photos folder for me.)

Steroids Man

I had never tried online dating, but by the time I had got divorced, it had taken over and was the new thing. The benefits of which were obvious, as a single mum of two with a 6 month old, I was hardly going to be picking anyone up out clubbing or indeed at preschool (other than my toddler).

My first dip into online dating, was on Match. I spent just over a year on this site, and I went on around 8 (?) dates and did actually meet my ex boyfriend who I was with for 18 months. So you see online dating can lead to serious relationships, it hasn’t been a complete failure.

However, my more prolific dating spree began after this relationship ended. After I moved to the countryside, I also moved to POF, the infamous dating site (for those of you lucky enough not to know what this is, it’s plenty of fish).  There seemed to be a shortage of men on Match living out in the countryside, plus I was put off by the money that the site charged which didn’t even guarantee that the men on it were of a higher quality or indeed less full of shit (see Now Can I send you a Picture of my Dick )

The first person who I started chatting to and eventually met up with on POF was a fitness trainer whose name was Kyle. I wasn’t sure whether we would have much in common or whether he would be able to hold an intelligent conversation,  but what the heck, I was on the rebound.  I’d give it a whirl.

I arrived outside the place we were due to meet punctually, however he was not there.

I’ve found men fall into two categories with regard to punctuality on a fast date- there are the men who make an effort to be there on time and there are those who are either deliberately or carelessly late (well ok maybe three categories). I prefer the ones who have made the effort to be punctual, for which you shall receive brownie points (in case any men are reading, take note).

As I stood outside waiting, my phone starting ringing and I realised it was Kyle.  After my usual panicked ‘I don’t want to talk to a guy on the phone who I’ve never met!!’ I calmly and collectedly answered the phone. I’ll be there in 10 minutes ‘ he said. Grrr,  I thought, now I get to stand around waiting, I hate having to wait for the guy when he’s late.

The only good thing is that every single guy without fail has either text to let me know that they will be late or phoned. If you are late because ‘it was further away than you thought’, this will annoy me, because it’s not that hard to work out how far away a place you are going to is, it literally takes seconds. I will not be impressed if you can’t demonstrate such basic competence. In order to know what time to leave to get to a date for a certain time, you need to know how far away it is. Same as with a job interview. Come on guys, don’t fall at the first hurdle.

Kyle when he got there, did not look like his picture on his profile. He was a lot more pumped up, with a massive chest and bulging, muscular arms in a not very subtle way which is not something which I usually find attractive. He also had a diamond in one ear, soooo not my type.

I was on the rebound though and exploring different options so it would do. I was keeping an open mind and not wanting to dismiss someone who could turn out to be the one (given that my ex who I thought was the one, turned out not to be, maybe by the same ahem logic someone who I thought wasn’t the one, might turn out to be).

He was also chewing gum frantically in a way that reminded me of someone high on drugs. He was obviously nervous (or on drugs) because he was talking really fast.

He started telling me all about his work training people at the gym and then he started talking about all his friends who were taking steroids to bulk up their muscles.

‘ I wouldn’t be so stupid to take them, they’ve loads of side effects. None of my friends can get it up. You know someone is taking steroids when they can’t get it up.’ he told me.

‘They also make you really bad-tempered.’ He then went on to tell me about an incident with his ex girlfriend which I thought made him sound a bit bad tempered. For someone who doesn’t take steroids, he seems to know an awful lot about them as well as talking about them all the time.

For our second date (I would like to assure you that my standards are much higher since this date, remember I was on the rebound), we met in a really posh pub near mine. We had a drink and then Kyle suggested going for a walk.

Meeting men at this pub has become a bit of a problem now because the bar manager has seen me with so many different men,  god knows what he thinks. He’s also seen me with my mum and my kids. I’ve actually seen sheer disbelief on his face on one occasion when I came in with yet a another man.

There was a bench outside in the gardens, which we sit down on. ‘Can I have a cuddle’ is his not so subtle way of initiating a kiss. Still, it’s better than some other efforts I’ve seen. Before long, we are necking on this bench which makes me feel like a teenager again. I’m in the grounds of a very posh pub, incidentally where I spent my wedding night and where I regularly go for sunday lunch with my mum and two kids and I’m getting off with some guy on a bench.

I enjoy the feeling of being a bit of a reckless teenager and taking off my responsible mum hat for a while. The only spanner in the works, is that he kisses like a washing machine.

Relentlessly and forcefully round and round his tongue goes, with no sensuality or alternating rhythm. It feels like he is spitting into my mouth. Which reminds me, he did tell me a story of some other woman he’d met on POF, who kept asking him to spit in her mouth. Anyway, I digress.

For the third date- I know, I too am wondering wtf? Why would you go on another date and try to sleep with someone who can’t even kiss properly?

But remember I was on the rebound and bad kisser doesn’t necessarily mean bad in bed. Except in this case it does. He comes round my house and we get to it again. We end up in bed but he is not able to get it up at the crucial moment.  But of course, he’s not stupid enough to take steroids….

‘Are you sure you’re not taking steroids?’ I asked him. He smiled secretively and said nothing.

See here’s the thing when a man can’t get it up, you both end up feeling rubbish. For him, his masculanity is under threat, he is unable to perform and has failed to satisfy you. For her, her femininity is under threat, as she feels maybe it is something she has done wrong, she isn’t attractive enough or her technique isn’t right- she also feels like she has failed to turn the man on.

In my experience, I have always been very supportive when this has happened to the man and tried to make them feel better about it by not making it into a big deal and making it clear it doesn’t matter (even when it does).  And yet the men have never returned this favour. They have never made the effort to try and make ME feel better, by making me feel that they do find me attractive, hot and sexy- they seem to completely lack any understanding or empathy for how I might feel.

So guys, spare a little thought as to how the girl might be feeling when this happens

Anyway, I never saw Kyle again, I went on holiday soon after the 3rd date and our messages fizzled out whilst I was away.