The Circle of Life

The King of Spades is in town...but will this time get us any further than it ever does?
 
If life is a never ending circle (I'm happy to go with Elton and Disney on this one), then how do you know when your starting another lap all over again? And is it horrid that I don't even mind that I'm not 'learning' anything each time around.
 
I've always loved roller coasters, but it would be nice to get off the loop before nausea sets in and perhaps, just perhaps I might be too old to ride. Will it take me throwing up my popcorn and cotton candy before I realise that I need to let the rollercoaster leave without me?

IN is OUT and OUT is IN!

There are very few ways to describe last night without coming across as anything other than naive. So I'll just tell it how it went, you can judge me (lord knows I've been judging myself for the last 12 hours), I'll feel cleansed and we can all move on.

So last night I haul myself home after a wonderful, indulgent massage with enough time to wash my hair swipe on some mascara and hit drinks with the HMV Poacher. I get a text message en-route - if your going to be late call me. Responded with, no, 5 mins away (hence on time). I arrive, I wait. Then I get a call - 'my phone's died so I've had to come home to charge it, I only live 3 streets away, swing by here'. Fine, you should have told me while I was in the f'ing cab but whatever. 8 blocks later I get there. He's bare foot in shorts and a shirt with clearly no intention of going anywhere at all and his phone is laying, fully charged on the kitchen bench. Some guys just aren't worth the cab fare.

He's reeling off the compliments and is actually quite nice and funny - but the giant apartment, the funny stories and the good looks couldn't hide the sheer crassness of the whole situation. If you invite me OUT, I expect you to take me OUT. Not complicated. At all. If you had invited me IN - I would have stayed IN, at my house! If your going to false advertise please do it in place I expect to see it: Bars, clubs, the trading floor, the board room, the 19th hole, post rugby match gatherings and male swim wear competitions. Other than that I expect you (men) to be exactly what your renowned for - simple and straight forward. If your going to get all complicated on me - we're going to have re-evaluate our positions and I'll need to start to look at the details of lesbianism more closely.

So I take matters into my own hands with an 'Are you ready to go?' comment to which he comes out with - 'Its Monday night, there's nothing to do'...Well why did you bother cutting into my time then?!? I could have stayed at the club for a facial and perhaps even gotten high at the oxygen bar! In fact, I KNOW it's a Monday but I can still think of a hundred things I'd rather do, and about a million other people I'd rather do them with!

In the end I bailed, I was like 'Look I'm going home, this isn't what I was expecting, or wanted and your clearly not either. Sorry'. His final words were, 'I'll call you, maybe we can go clubbing on the weekend?' - You know what, don't bother. I wasted one night on this guy - I'm not a lady of leisure with nights to just throw away by staying IN! 3 missed phone calls already and counting.

But on a more serious note if the ultimate compliment I can give a guy is to skip getting high on oxygen and turn up with silky locks. Then, to think, I actually bothered to wash my hair for this guy! And if he wasn't worth the cab fare he certainly wasn't worth the shampoo!

I'll take the box series of The Wire and a date please.

The Boxer might have cornered me into a date but I gave him no sings of encouragement - that's for sure. Established early on that hand holding wasn't going to fly and made a mental note to myself, that if he even started to hint at a discussion concerning 'us' I would bail and didn't even give him a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye. Peace out dude. OveR! How can you think someone sending you an email that says 'I don't want to see you again' is a test? A test of what? Reading and comprehension? Cause it certainly isn't Complex Reasoning!
 
Whilst I was getting a DVD for my dinner with Monster Mashed another guy picked me up, lets call him the HMV poacher.
 
HMV Poacher: Hey, I sorry
Me removing headphones
HMV Poacher: Were you out last night?
Me: Hahaha, no - sorry
HMV Poacher: Really?!? There was a girl identical to you out last night
Me: Really? Well did you get her number?
HMV Poacher: No I was drunk
Me: Not the best move ever
HMV Poacher: I know - but she looked exactly like you
Me: We'll there you go, I'm sure there are lots of them running around
HMV Poacher: I'm xxxx
Me: Hi, I'm Mikey
HMV Poacher: Can I get your number? We could go for drinks.
Me: I don't even know you
HMV Poacher: That's what the drinks are for
Me: You've got a point...Ok
 
Guess I was in a good mood - and he's rather quick off the mark, inviting me for drinks tonight, frankly it's a good move, it doesn't pay to play cool with me and besides tonight I'm not free till Friday - fingers crossed I don't end up chopped into little pieces in HMV bags...Actually we're meeting outside Harvey Nics...so perhaps my remains will be in slightly more durable bags which will help with identification.
 
In more shocking news: The Brazilian Diver has displayed a rather explosive temper! It seems the last couple of times he's recounted a story to me it involves explosions of anger and more profanities than in a girls bathroom after a school dance cheating incident...actually more but whatever. Don't get me wrong I've never been on the other end of his TNT inspired rants- but still. It was intense enough on Sunday for me to feel a little taken-a-back...hopefully this doesn't mean he'll need to be taken-back...

If you find yourself cornered- shoot your way out!

I've been beaten into another date by The Boxer who has at least proved that he listened well. We're going clay shooting.

He called - whilst I was on my way to meet the Brazilian Diver - to say that he didn't believe my email and wanted to hang out again. I wriggled- I squirmed but it didn't work and I really do want to go shooting! Have canned his idea of dinner as well- meeting up with Monster Mashed instead.

Mr. Test Match and I hung out on Friday night- we partied with his friends, who should still be in kindergarten. Such a shame- he'll be a great catch in about 5 years, till then I might be better off resigning myself to the fact that what we do best is drink, dance and banter. Nothing can really come of a relationship founded on a dance floor.

The Brazilian Diver is getting over a nasty bout of food poisoning and is stomping around cranky wanting me to take care of him.

The Arms Dealer wrote me a rather abrupt text asking me to 'at least explain my disappearance' - to which there was only one reply, the guilt trip. 'work had me going crazy and that's why I was calling last weekend' (total lie- was calling out of guilt)- awesome twist of fate though, now I can ditch his on a ligit reason of him freaking on me. Nice.

Now I've just got to shoot myself out of this corner The Boxer has backed me into.

If you learn one lesson...

...it's NOT to delete numbers, it will always come back to bite you. 

So I spent my Christmas / New Years in the land of the free and in the city de jour- New York. It included few crazy nights including my birthday at an underground bar and then partying with drag queens. It was on one of these occasions that I met a kid who I'll call The Giant. I wouldn't be exaggerating when I say he's 7 ft tall. I'm rather tiny at 5' 3, which meant I not only needed to stand on 1 step but 2!!! Anyway the hot, very tall scandi (that strangely couldnt speak scandi) was an incredible find until a couple of nights later when he turned up trying to snog a girl at the table next to me in a club- little did he know I was sitting right there until afterwards when he fumbled fruitlessly to explain. I promptly snogged a famous baseballer to piss him off.  A few ignored calls and messages later and I came back to the Continent and promptly forgot all about him... 

Except for when I not so cleverly rid myself of his number. 9 months later and I just got a message from him inviting me for drinks at a hotel here in town and then to a club- wow, wonders will never cease to amaze. And I will cease to delete!

Another friend of mine simply changes their name entry to 'Do not answer' - a rather harsh version of the number deletion process. But at least she's never fooled into responding. But knowing myself, I need to know which one is trying to establish contact- just in case...you know ...well just in case i'm in the mood for a 7ft tall hot scandi. 

meet...chew...spit...repeat...

Oh dear. I may have fallen for someone. Problem. Big problem. Its the Brazilian Diver and he's oceans away from what I typically go for. He's very alpha male, a little crazy, clearly used to being the centre of attention and something about him makes him slightly wonderful and its clearly not the way he dances, which just makes me feel slightly silly and fall about laughing. But are we 'too much' together - I'm used to being the centre of attention, I don't know if I can give that up. I can't really go cold turkey on my attention quota and to have someone else cutting in on it - I'm not sure if I'll cope. Typically I've always ended up with men who were slightly reserved and more listeners than talkers, have I "met my match" rather than met "my match"? And yet, perhaps the change is for the best - lord knows the others can never keep up with me, its generally the same routine, meet...chew...spit...repeat...maybe I've met a pace- maker this time and one that makes the heart flutter slightly as well...wonder if they specialise in producing pacemakers in brazil - they are the kings of industry down south.
 
And then there is the other one I like...Mr. Test Match - I should have been careful what I wished for, he gave me a slight brush off for a couple of days after our first date...but after ignoring him for a while he's messaging again, such simple creatures...now he wants to meet up to hang out...
 
Spoilt for choice, I'm going to have to watch my moves, saying that it makes a change from disliking them all to liking two at once...surely one of them will disappoint by date two - right? Then again, I can always go back to meet...chew...spit...repeat...

Cling / dote / discard - maybe it's all in the definition?

I've given the Boxer the flick - I can't stand it anymore and more importantly I can't stand him anymore. Which is really annoying because he showed so much promise in the early rounds but now that I can see his truly clingy side he's got to go. I sent him an email saying, look we're both really stressed out etc - but that being the case or not, things aren't clicking the way they need to, sorry but peace out. Well not verbatim, but pretty much. Luckily he's leaving the country soon, which means that I can go back to my usual boxing class once he's left - phew, I thought I was going to have to find a new studio for a minute there. It may be the one time you hear me thank the government for the visa process here!

Suit and tie called last night, then he emails me to say he was calling 'just to hear my voice'! Thank god I didn't answer since I'd just got two messages from the Arms Dealer saying he missed my smile and he missed my laughter and I was more worried about the fact that my cleaner had hung a silk dress with red flowers next to a white chiffon top which now looks like it has a case of the measles. Ahhhhhh...More clinging - I mean I know I'm wearing tights now that the weather is turning cold, but all that static can't really be making them stick. Although it would answer some very interesting questions about what constitutes their hair choices. What has happened to the old fashioned approach, I'm too cool to call, text, email or contact you in any way (including a carrier pigeon) for at least 3 days...or 7...or even better - ever again. Maybe I have to start to be more honest with my feelings on dates. Not encourage them, or make them feel like I do actually like them. Maybe that might be an idea. I'm giving them false hopes, letting them believe that I've had so much fun I need to hear from them ever again. Lets go back to the days where men didn't call you and you convinced yourself they had died. It was easier then. Or maybe its just that the annoying ones 'cling' and the wonderful ones 'dote' and all the ones in between somehow just get 'discarded'...perhaps its all in the definition.
 
In another interesting twist, at dinner with two wonderful new friends on Tuesday night I was unwittingly set up with a newbie in town. Tall, dark, handsome and rather charming (his friend reads this blog so I must go gently) we're going for drinks tonight which should be interesting...for reasons i'll explain once I've had a chance to review a theory of his which involves terms such as snorkeling, the titanic, lunar and sky diving - he'll be known as the Brazilian Diver.
 
Oh and good news on my white chiffon top - we're back to pure again, those pesky, clingy red spots just faded away with an overnight soaking. If only the same were true of certain men...