SiL: Walkers, Less Than Ordinary Boys and a Casino

In my attempt to look like I was someone worth re-visiting, or in a more romantic spin, worth taking a chance on, I find myself in a pub in Whitehall Friday night nursing a glass of red. After carefully choosing an outfit that looked like I had come from work looking smart sexy, and then chucking it out for a simple A line with a T and boots I am nervous. My friends, Caz and Mona, are telling me to relax; it’ll all be fine. To relax because there is a distinct possibility that Biggs will be there. Caz’s boyfriend has just been promoted to his office and there is a casual mixer happening. One, subtle and quick sweep of the room tells me that he is not here. Is this a good thing? I think so. I deserve better right? Perhaps one of the three guys at the table over the room can show me a better time? One of them is hot. He reminds me a little of my first boyfriend, mousey features, skinny jeans, an air of shyness with a twinge of danger in his eyes. There is something about a guy that might be an asshole. I wanted to find out more.

So how do you go about building up the confidence to approach a table of lads on a night out, when you were already quite nervous about that night, and appear desirable without gate-crashing? The answer surely is drink? That and some encouragement from friends who are trying to match you up. I should mention now, if I haven’t already, that Caz is in a long term relationship. She has been with Nick for a year and a half now, but was a serial dater before then. There were so many Tinder ups and downs, it took a long time to get here. Mona has been dating and seeing people on and off for a number of years and is a total pro at this, so eludes confidence when discussing dates. So naturally I was being pushed into going over. But I wasn’t ready. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never done this before.

In secondary school I asked one boy out. Aaron. He was one of the popular boys, tall, athletic, good looking. I was just a normal; I didn’t really belong to any stereotypical group. Not the popular ones, not the geeks, not the freaks, not the surfers, just us girls. So you can imagine how my bold move went down. I was rejected, took it like a champ and avoided him for as long as I could. A week later I tripped on the staircase and fell over right in front of him, and thought “it can’t get worse” so picked myself up (literally) and moved forward with my life. (Consequently his was the first penis I ended up touching, but that’s a small insignificant story for another time)

Anyway, back to the pub. Four glasses of red down, and I am saved in an unexpected way. One of the boys from that table has come to us! Simon the saviour. In an attempt to try chat us up, he has consequently opened the door for me to approach his friend. I bide my time, chat politely, and move us over to the table. Surprise surprise Caz and Mona choose not to follow, so it is just me and them. Even more surprising, it goes very well. We chat indie rock music (they try to pretend they are the band ‘The Ordinary Boys’ – I’m not buying it), sport, have things in common (they are from where I grew up in my early years, support the same football team, play the same musical instruments as me, like the same music etc.) and time is flowing. There’s talk of what to do next, the pub is going to close before long. Personally I am still trying to remember the hot one’s name. Jon. It is decided that we could go to a casino, and before I know it Caz and Mona have appeared with my coat and are telling me to have fun and be safe. I must have signalled them? Or they were monitoring this closely. Either way I am feeling amazing. Spontaneity is not my strongest suit so I am on a cloud right now. We start walking towards the casino, and Simon and Chris (the other one- who is not single but tells me that his friends are) walk on ahead and I am left with my target for the night. This is really working out! I take my chance; tell him that I think he is good looking and if he would like to see me again I’d like to take his number. He says he would and puts it in my phone. For some reason it is now that I decide to save him under my phone as Walkers. Has my love for crisps shone through? Who cares, I got the number!

As it happens, Simon decides he doesn’t want to come so says goodbye and leaves. We go in, have a good time. Drinks are flowing, money is being gambled, and more importantly money is being won! I feel awesome! Walkers is encouraging me, keeping me involved and repeating my name in his dialogue to me. I feel he is engaging, interested and in my drunken state enjoy the accidental brushing of limbs when gestures of excitement are made at the dinging of a winning machine. I have been to the toilet, checked the mirror (not looking great- but nothing that’s not fixable) this is so promising, and in the early hours we call it a day. Chris leaves us, and Walkers walks me to my bus stop. We are chatting and when my bus comes I say goodbye and that I had fun.

Now here’s the part I don’t get, and if this has happened to you too you’ll understand my frustration. I wait until the afternoon the next day to send a message (not wanting to be too keen, but not wanting to wait too long that he forgets me). “Hey, it was nice to meet you last night, I had fun! Are you looking forward to the match today?” Charlton are playing Blackburn. 2 days later and he hasn’t read it. He’s been online, but either ignored or deleted my message. Why would you take my number if you weren’t interested? This is the thing I don’t understand about the situation. If someone had asked me for my number and I didn’t want to give it I just wouldn’t. I would make up an excuse and politely decline. So what the hell is happening here? Maybe alcohol is not my friend in this situation. Could it be that the alcohol prompted his decision to acquiesce or was he just too shy to say no?

I don’t understand men. Still, I had a great night; one that I won’t be forgetting for a long time. And who knows, maybe I’ll be more courageous next time!

SiL: In Which the Line is Drawn (Biggs vol. 3)

Date number 3. He’s coming over and I’m going to cook dinner.

I’ve tidied my room, freshened the air, and prepped my body. Biggs comes over with a bottle of wine, and we sit and chat, drinking the bottle and swapping anecdotes about family. I let on that I am feeling tipsy and before I know it he’s kissing me.

I know he thinks I’m drunk, and hey what better time to make a move. I go with it, my body is ready and I know we can have fun together. Just like before it is surprising and exciting and I don’t regret it for a second.

As we lie naked together after I tell him what I plan on cooking and ask if he’s hungry. He tells me he’s fine and not go to any trouble. At the time I start to think he doesn’t want to eat around me. The psychologist in me tells me that he might have anxiety issues about food, lots of people do. But no, I’ve pushed through my problem unbeknownst to him so why can’t he do the same. I smile sweetly and tell him that he’s going to need his energy and to join me in the kitchen.

I make some dinner which he later guzzles down and lean into him looking for a post sex embrace. This is something I immediately feel weird about. I don’t really know this guy. Not really. This is a new world that I am just a baby in. My instincts were right, he feels weird about this. I can feel it in his reaction.

Knowing the truth, I text him a couple of days later which he replies to, asking me how my day has been. From there I don’t hear from him again. I don’t push it. I text one more time a couple of days later, just to be sure. And feel like cold light of rejection sweep over me as I explain to my friends my brief fling is indeed a brief fling.

I can honestly say though I am thankful for my experience, and don’t regret a thing. I learned a very valuable lesson from Biggs. Not only can I successfully meet someone new, but I can successfully enjoy sex again with an attractive man. Could we have gone further? Perhaps. Should we have? Possibly not. He doesn’t watch TV on a Sunday.

Must-See-Movie: Ghostbusters

Rating: 5 Stars

After a period of mixed emotions across the globe about the at-the-time upcoming Ghostbusters remake (mainly due to the female casting choice) I hope the world rejoices at this truly magnificent movie.

I went to see this film tonight and left with such a sense of joy and pride. Pride in being a fan of the franchise, and pride to be able to call myself a fellow woman to these wonderful actresses. Kate McKinnon in particular played Holtzmann so well I constantly wanted to be her or at least be friends with her throughout. With modern feminist jokes that everyone will enjoy (man or woman, feminist or non), punchy lines and familiar settings the movie had me hooked. I laughed, I jumped, I beamed and I anticipated my way through feeling pleased at the not-too-over-the-top modern special effects. To me the ghouls and ghosts were just right to suit the tone of the previous Ghostbuster films.

Of course not every film can be perfect, and the only let down I would say is the masterpiece that is the original theme tune being redone. A sneak play of the original song at the start is all you’re going to get before the up-to-date version comes into play. This however clearly hasn’t taken much from my review of the movie though as i thoroughly enjoyed it and would recommend everyone see it. Maybe even twice, or thrice! (And enjoy the perfectly placed cameos throughout).

 

SiL: Biggs vol. 2

After my last date with Biggs I was buzzing. I honestly didn’t think that I’d meet anyone again after Michael who would find me sexy, or not mind that I have dark body hair or imperfect teeth. I recount the kiss over and over, excitedly telling my friends who of course make countless references to Sex and the City’s Mr. Big. And a couple of days after our date, as promised, he texts me to organise another date.

After some backwards and forwards of where to go and what to do we agree to go to a pub in North London, the nice part: West Hampstead. There had been suggestions of the cinema, movies at home (too soon? I don’t know?) and drinks again. I opted for the drinks in the end, I think it leaves the night more open ended.

He is just as handsome as I remembered, although not dressed as well this time. Yes, I know. Dating is a shallow game and I know I’m no angel. What can I say, I don’t like a man in a turtleneck (a statement one of my best friends later would hit me for). Anyway we get some drinks, chat as easily as we did last time, go through another round and find ourselves somewhat tipsy. At least I am. He invites me back to his to watch a movie, and I seriously consider it. My head goes through a quick checklist: Showered – yep, Shaved – yep, no. really shaved? – yep and free tomorrow – yep. I tell him that I can go to his, absolutely but I am tired and may fall asleep sooner than he’d like. He patted his collar bone and tells me that it’s mine for the night if I want it. Yes. I want it.

Once we get back to his, a really nice flat he owns, he gives me a small tour and I get comfy. We’ve chatted about movies and get 5 minutes into Gravity before he’s kissing me on the sofa. That kiss, again that kiss. As he slides me closer to him he asks if I want to go into the bedroom, to which I reply ‘will you wanna see me again after tomorrow?’ cynically supposing he won’t but who the hell cares at this point? He picks me up onto his lap and whispers what he thinks I want to hear; yes of course he’ll want to see me again.

The next part of the night is a glorious blur of curiosity, surprise, mindlessness and pleasure. I have had good sex before, but this was different. I have never had movie-style, smooth transitive sex with a near stranger before. He moves me as he wants me, whether that’s with me in control or him, grabbing my legs and pulling me into him so he can use his tongue, fully tasting me. I’ve never had a night like it. Once we finish we decide to watch the movie after all, and as promised I fall gently asleep, waking up for the credits.

Round 2, and sleep.

He makes me tea in the morning and we chat. He doesn’t put Sunday TV on though much to my disappointment – who doesn’t watch TV on a Sunday morning?! I dress quickly, something he comments on which I later kick myself for, and he walks me to the station kissing me goodbye, although somewhat less pressured this time.

As I sit on the tube home I think about where I have been, and what I’m capable of. I’d been one of those many women who silently suffers with sexual difficulties. My ghost: Vaginismus. If my mind and body isn’t ready for sex, my body says no. Genuinely, the gates close. This is something I’ve had problems with for the last few years, and It’s something I dread telling new partners about even before I’ve met them. But look where I am now. I am in a good place. I am happy. I feel sexy. I feel wanted. And my body said yes.

What a wonderful world.

Must See Movie: The Conjuring 2

A friend of mine told me that I definitely need to see this movie, and whilst it is in the cinemas. As a horror movie buff I trust her completely, and how right she was.

This movie was so worth the ticket price. If you’re looking for a bit of creep, and a number of jumps this is the movie for you. I watch a lot of horror movies, so after time I have found myself becoming somewhat immune to the faces in mirrors, loud bangs, shadows in the night and gore. Therefore with this one I wasn’t expecting to be too spooked out, and as it happens I wasn’t, but that’s not to say this is not a good horror movie.

The story moves along at a good pace, with multiple storylines running in parallel keeping you guessing. Whilst our favourite couple of paranormal investigators are still sickeningly smitten this is balanced out by the disturbance in familial relationships in Enfield. Much like this, the special effects are sometimes a bit much, but on the whole the visual representation of the haunting works well to keep you on your toes.

I would definitely recomment this movie. And against your better judgements, do stick the credits through – it’s worth it I promise.

SiL: And the Tinder Adenture Begins

Like most newly singled people in an age of social media, I find myself on Tinder. Having seen my friends using it for the last few years I had always been curious about it. Does it work? Could I go on dates? Will it just be a sea of creeps firing dick pics? I make my profile, choosing my favourite photos, and write a short bio about my likes.

Google Images

What are you supposed to write on your bio anyway? Some people seem not to write a thing. Some people state very clearly what they are after either by using emoji’s or just plain text ‘dtf’. Don’t write too much, don’t write too little. Don’t be too clever, don’t be too simple. I have no comprehension of how this works so just settle on something along the lines of ‘If you enjoy films, dinner, pubs and gigs lets go for a drink.’

Within a couple of weeks of directionless chat or brutal faceless rejection I meet Biggs. A few messages in and he’s suggested showing me around his part of London, he just has to get back from the holiday he’s going on in a couple of days. So delighted I agree. He seems a nice guy, good looking and isn’t just playing the Tinder match game. So without hope I sit tight and prepare myself for the wait, totally shocked when he messages me from holiday to sort out a date.

Waiting outside a tube station, not just going on my first Tinder date but my first real definitely-a-date-date, I feel so nervous. I’ve worn my new blue dress from H&M, Chelsea heels and done my hair and make-up. I know I look good (my sister’s man-friend gave me the double thumbs up) my main concern is will I recognise him and visa-versa. Until there he is, smiling and waving as he walks up and the flood of excitement spreads through me.

After a slightly clumsy start (100% on my part; I may have tripped and spilt the inciest part of my pint…) I had a brilliant time. He was understanding of my interests, asked me questions about my family, bought me drinks, let me buy one round and kissed me goodnight. Boy did he kiss me goodnight. We got back to the station smiled at one another as we exchanged thank-yous for a good evening and he stepped up to me. He put his hands round my waist and leaned in kissing me with enough pressure that my body moulds to his as he pulls me into him and the slightest of tongue. He pulls away, says he’ll text me soon and we go our separate ways. I smile and tingle the whole journey home.

If this boy never texts me again, I cannot say that I could have had a better first date as a single-in-London.