The game

So you'll remember from my last post that I went to dinner with a mystery texter whose name I had forgotten on Saturday night.

It didn't start well, he was 40 minutes late to pick me up only marginally redeeming himself by texting me that he was leaving shortly when he was already 20 minutes past the time of proposed pick up.

By the time he actually picked me up 20 minutes after that I was about to text HIM and tell him where to shove it. But I was somewhat intrigued about this mystery date and felt I would have to go on it just to put this whole saga to bed.

So he arrives in a beamer (which he borrowed from his Dad - yes he still lives at home) and as I approach with a huge amount of trepidation and holding my breath I am relieved to find he's not bad at all and I do in fact remember meeting him. That's the first hurdle over anyway!

As we drive along and chat it's obvious that he's either a really bad driver or a bit nervous because he pretty much nearly crashed about 5 times and almost ran pedestrians over on 2 separate occasions, all this on the way to dinner! I was on the edge of my seat thinking if I even make it to dinner without some sort of situation occurring it's going to be a miracle.

Thankfully we do make it to the venue of choice without a grievous chancing. I am very pleased about this since my nerves are all over the place and I really want to down a glass of wine. He chooses Speak Easy in Bondi, a nice relaxed wine bar which I have heard a lot about but never been too. The wine list is impressive as is the food. We order a couple of glasses my favourite french wine and then I ask what he fancied eating. To which he replies:

I am not really hungry so I won't order anything

WHAT? Didn't you ask me to dinner? Why did you do that if you had no intention of eating!

My reply:

Oh really? I thought we were having dinner?! Maybe we could grab a nibbly snacky thing?

Him: yes we could do that. Let's get the bruschetta.

Me: um (I don't want the bruschetta but I am so confused by what is going on I just agree) Ok

The wine arrives and we chat away. I babble on asking him about what he's been up to etc...the usual small talk. He then pulls out what I can only imagine to be his repertoire of 'things to say to girls on a date". The topics included:

You're very decorated is there a story behind all those bangles?

Me: wait what? Um (I got them from DIVA?) Well not really....(I proceed to make something up so as not to look rude) blah blah these are from bali...these are from a friend who makes jewellery for a living (what? where did that come from?!)

Other topics covered:

Older women know what they want

older women are more experienced and

older women don't need you to buy them dinner

Ok ok hang on a minute what was the last one??!! Aside from the fact that there is a lot of chat about the older woman what does he mean you don't need to buy me dinner!? I extract the age of this young buck (as he refers to himself - that says it all really) it's 26. I am a full 10 years older than him and frankly it's becoming more and more obvious that this fella's original 'root' message is really his only goal and the rest is just smoke and mirrors to ensure he gets what he wants.

Oh dear.....do you really think I cannot see that kid?? REALLY?!

As 'dinner' if you can call it that, comes to an end he makes a big song and dance about paying...uh oh think we have been here before...damn straight you are you asked ME out after all. We then leave and he offers to drop me off at my next venue for the night.

On the journey to the party which is only in the next suburb he proceeds to try and pash me at every available red traffic light, this would be nice if he knew how to kiss. His version involved pretty much licking my face. GROSS!

In a repeat of the incoming journey he almost runs a bunch of pedestrians over on a crossing despite me pointing and shouting 'watch the people!'

I cannot wait for him to drop me off. When he does he gets out of the car for some more face licking and asks me to call him later.

Righteo might do I say. (that's not going to happen EVER)

Needless to say I get some messages later about going to his house and staying with him. But as I wasn't interested the first time then you can bet I am not interested this time. And if I wanted my face licked I'd get a labrador.

Who needs a name?!?

A few weeks ago I went for a long boozy lunch with a girlfriend and ended up having evening drinks at Mrs Sippy's in Double Bay.

As you can imagine despite having a hefty lunch this little lushie couldn’t quite take the epic drinking hours in her stride and was rather tipsy by the time the local talent was arriving at double bay’s hottest new bar.

With the courage of a cup of whiskey I stride up to a bunch of young gents and swiftly introduce myself, flirt outrageously and possibly incoherently and manage to swap numbers with one of them.

The thing is.... I have no idea who. Whoever it was had sent me a text message around midnight that same night which read as follows:

“Hey…just met you but want to root you later. Give me a call”

Um…..thankfully I was getting some much needed sleep when this arrived. But is this man serious!?!? ROOT you! LATER?!?!?! I had to laugh. This man got front. I showed it to a couple of my good male friends who evidently thought it was bonza. Whatevs Neanderthals!

I have to admit I did think it was funny but only because I had no idea who it came from and thought it might have actually been a joke.

I thought nothing more of it until last week I was back at said venue after the polo and bumped into a friend who I saw the night of the ‘root’ message. He was with a young gent also there that night and I immediately pulled out the message and asked him if it was him who had sent it. Appalled this guy replid NO very convincingly and they all proceeded to laugh. I was like ok let’s call it then and see if YOU answer. So I did. And no it wasn’t the man standing in front of me. EEK!

I proceeded to ask the man on the line his name which I again immediately forgot. Mainly because I freaked myself out that I had the balls to call him!

Mystery root messenger then sent me sms’s about wanting to buy me a drink and that he was driving so he would pick me up etc…this went on for a while. But I had by then gone home and tucked myself up in bed yet again. This time I didn't wake up to another invitation to be 'rooted' thankfully. Whoever you are you seem keen so I hope to god you’re a good sort after all this!

Again I think nothing more about it until yesterday when I receive another text message from MRM asking if I was free for dinner the next night. Hmmm this is better, an invitation for dinner…we’re making progress. Ok I say and we agree to go for an early dinner as I have a party to go to later that night.

The problem is, I STILL do not know this person’s name. Mortified I finally tell my flattie about this issue and she saves the day by calling him from my home phone which has a blocked number and asked for Jacob (I hope to god his name is not Jacob!!!) Sweating over this small fact whilst she plays detective I finally breathe when it turns out he is NOT in fact Jacob. THANK GOD for that WE HAVE A NAME!!!

So, we’re off for a spot of dinner tonight and he’s picking me up. I still don’t know what he looks like so wish me luck!!

All this from the man who brought you the ‘I want to root you later” message.

Obviously the next blog will be about this dinner…….what this space for more!

xoxo

Dodging a mangina

Recently my lovely flattie asked me how RSVP was going. Not very well I replied whilst simultaneously checking the emails on my phone. As I said this an email kiss popped up from the site.

Oh! I exclaimed, just got a kiss. Let's see who it's from.

As luck would have it, turns out he's not a bad sort. Great, I'll reply in the affirmative and see where it goes. I have a funny feeling I know this guy but just it down to possibly familiarity in his facial features and think nothing more of it.

I receive an email from said suitor and it looks like we have a) a few things in common b) he's not bad to look at and c) he's interested. So far so good.

After a couple of emails we exchange numbers and agree to catch up that Thursday. Cool, date sorted. Feeling suitably ego boosted.

On the wednesday I have a meeting at an ad agency. During this meeting a lot of people attend and there is a somewhat familiar face amongst the crowd. There is a guy in an atrocious orange polo shirt who looks like the guy I am going on a date with the next night. NO! Surely not? Coincidence? Must be.

Slightly freaked out but keeping my cool I continue the meeting like the true professional I am. On the way I check my phone and see a message from my date asking if I was in company x's reception area. Yes! I say I thought there was a face in the crowd that looked like you. Fnar fnar giggles giggles about his gross shirt and confirmation of the next nights date. All cool.

Thursday arrives I get ready and go to meet my date. For some reason I am actually nervous on the way there, so much so I get a headache freaking myself out about it. All good though, the date went amazingly well. We laughed and joked and got on fine. Went to dinner and parted ways around 11:30pm. He sent me a message after telling me he'd had a good day and hoped to see me again.

Great! Finally some success. This shit does work!

We're both reasonably busy over the weekend so I don't expect to hear from him until the following week. Which I didn't. Which confused me a little.

Concerned that I have another meeting in the same building he works in again I decide it's probably best to send a message to inform him I will be in there, not to panic should he see me and hope he's not wearing his orange shirt again as that would be awkward! He replies with this:

"That shirt has been relegated to car and window washing. I'm pretty busy. Might see you around."

Might see you around?? Ok, so he's brushed me. At least now I know. Although I can't fathom how he got to that from "hope to see you again". I'm super confused.

Turns out we have a mutual friend. Who then calls me out of the blue for a catch up. During said catch up she informs me Mr Orange Polo has a reputation of doing this, that he chased her for months and when she finally gave in he acted like the complete douche he is and brushed her quicker than you can say abracadabra. She also informed me that he's the type of bloke who pulls his pants down at parties and performs.......the MANGINA! EWWWWW gross. Looks like I dodged a bullet there. Seriously! What the f*ck!?! Who the feck wants someone like that? This guy is in his mid 30's haven't you grown out of that yet?

She also told me he is punching well above his weight if he thinks he should or could be dating me. Fooking right!

Girlfriends are amazing like that!

Anyone for Polo?

Every year Paspaley hold and event in Centennial park called "polo in the city" it's quite the show let me tell you.

Polo boys in their white polo pants galloping around on those fearless ponies whilst weilding a hammer. It's all very exciting.

Most of the eastern suburbs of sydney are well versed in this event and the ladies turn it on with some heavy preparation of outfits, spray tans and blow dries. They do all look really good. The boys don't make much effort to be honest but they don't need to. The girls are there to find a man and they don't care what he's wearing!

Unfortunately for me, this year I had to attend the event on crutches with a foot injury. This did NOTHING for my pulling ability. And I mean NOTHING. Not even a bat of sympathy for the 'retard' that I was appearing to be. I put on a pretty white sundress and tried to go for the 'damsel in distress' innocent angle. It was pointless. No one wanted to talk to me in case they caught my crutches disease. Actually that's a lie one, quite hot boy, said 'hottest thing on crutches" can't work out if that's a compliment or not. If I hadn't been on crutches would I just be hot??

She looks hot on crutches but that's Gwyneth Paltrow. I'd like to think I looked as good as this too!

Talking of hot the day was literally boiling and most of the ladies were swooning by the only available fans or desprately trying to hide in the little shade there was. I was trying to wrangle a seat in the shade...as you can imagine this was a challenge given some ladies are actually CHAIR NAZIS. WTF?!?!

Me: hi could I please use on of these chairs until your friends come back

Chair Nazi: NO they are all being used

Me: Yes I know that but I will give it back

CN:... silence....

Me: Don't worry about, I'm only on crutches I'll stand in the sun. (sarcasm)

I really hated her at that point. In the end her friend got up and gave me her chair. How embarrassment for the chair nazi. She looked like a right beatch at that point. GOOD!

As the day went on I went to another part of the event to talk to the polo boys and the celebs in the veuve clicquot tent. Definitely more potential here but my girlfriend wanted to stay in the corporate section. So off I went chatted to a few nice boys and then returned to find my girlfriend had left!

Yes she left me, a person on crutches, on my own in the middle of the park. I was horrified.

If only a nice young man had come to save me....alas this didn't happen. An older gent did ask me if I was ok and told me he would ensure I got home ok. Which was a relief because I was close to tears at this point. Definitely working that 'damsel in distress' angle.

Chivalry amongst young men is dead.

This makes me sad.

Daytime TV is rubbish

So I got made redundant recently. This has put a proverbial spanner in the works on the dating front. Mainly because my confidence has taken a big knock from this and I'm struggling to find the motivation to update my CV.

During my 'time off" I did manage to meet up with a guy from RSVP for a coffee. However, I panicked that I did not have a legitimate excuse to leave since I don't have a job to go to, therefore no meetings, or back to work excuses could be allowed. Hmm what's that about??

He was actually a really nice guy and I ended up having 2 coffees (dangerous) whilst he demonstrated by use of sugar sticks how I should stretch my hip flexors more as this was the cause of my back problems. He's a physio so if anything he did have his uses as free advice on how to sort my ongoing back pain.

There was talk of meeting up to play a game of tennis but it hasn't eventuated. This may have something to do with the fact that he can't actually play. He told me he tends to miss the ball a lot. Eh?! You just have to look at the ball at all times it's not that hard!

He has called, I just haven't called him back. I'm blaming concentration on trying to find my mojo so I can get a JOB as the reason for the not calling back yet.

It's true my sparkle has gone a little. I hope to get it back soon because summer is coming and I'm really in a bit of a mess. Can't do much exercise due to my back and have no job. Normally I would fill this time with excessive amounts of exercise but as I can't do that I feel stuck in a rut and at a bit of a loss. There's only so many CV's you can send out. I even watched Days of our lives the other day. It's rubbish. It's beyond me why people watch it. Ellen DeGeneres is crap too. Big hoo har about nothing.

It's a waiting game on the job front now...... someone save me from the perils of daytime TV!!!!