Another French dating attempt

So me and the Frenchman have loosely arranged to go for a drink tomorrow. I should be getting myself organised, planning an outfit and tidying up, but I'm feeling rather un-fussed as I don't feel like it is ever going to happen.

He is always so last minute with arranging plans, I will hear nothing for days and then receive a text inviting me somewhere that same evening - which I can never make as I have a busy life and need some warning to go on a date! Or we loosly plan to do something and it doesn't happen due to other plans getting in the way, such as on the tray roasted cat night.

The last time he text me, inviting me somewhere last minute, my housemate forced me to go even though I was hungover and unprepared. Big mistake. I ended up in a compromising position, wanting to be in an even more compromising position but being unable to facilitate this due to unshaven legs. Exactly why I need more than an hour's notice to meet up.

Also we have the problem of the language barrier. He never understands what I'm saying on texts, and I never understand what he is saying to me face to face. Well I do, but I am concentrating so much and trying to say things simply that I never seem to relax into conversation. But then there is normally loads of people around us, so maybe that would be easier if we were on a date.

God knows.

Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to get the fake tan on the go. Just in case...

Tray roasted cat?

I got home last night and was having a glass of wine with C, moaning about Beecham’s-gate and expecting never to hear from the Frenchman again. Next thing you know he’s text asking if I’m around. I was around, but after a long, hard day at work with day old hair and make up that has fallen off this suggestion of spontaneity panics me. But C made me reply to say that I was and he asked me if I fancied having a drink, either right away or later after he has eaten with his friends. So I accepted and suggested meeting later as I needed to ‘finish my dinner’. (i.e run in the shower, wash my hair and put all my make up back on).

So an hour later I’m in my room singing along to music, make-up half on, hair wet, undressed, still got ages to go before I need to be ready. Phone rings. Shit! It’s him! He’s early! Shit. Turn music off. Curse out loud some more before calling him back and putting a breezy voice on. He’s stood outside the bloody door, which is right next to my bedroom. (This is the downfall of getting involved with the next door neighbor.) He wants to borrow a plate to cook a cat in? Pardon? Can’t understand you... I’ll come to the door... (oh shit he’s heard me singing and cursing).

So I quickly shove my mascara on and find some clothes to throw on – no blusher, wet hair – this is not how a first date is supposed to go. Open the door, he’s stood there all tall, dark French and gorgeous. I’m embarrassed.

Frenchman: Hello, *kiss kiss*, I am sorry to knock early, but do you have a dish I can borrow to cook a cat in?

Me: You are cooking a cat?

Fm: No, No! A CAT.

Me: A Cat?!

Fm: No, a Tat, you know *gestures in the air making some kind of shape* a TAT.

Me: A Tat? OH Taters? Potatoes? A tray to roast potatoes?

By this point we stood in the kitchen area and I’m in a panic due to wet hair and half finished make-up, and crouching down pulling all the pots and pans out of that cupboard under the sink making the worst racket in the world ever.

Me: Here’s a roasting tin, is that what you mean?

Fm: (laughing at me) No, No a TART. Like a pie?

Me: OH a Taart. Oh well I don’t have a tart dish sorry. (standing in a pile of every kitchen pot and pan we have).

I was so embarrassed but it was funny also. Anyway then he was laughing, and apologised for creating such a mess and said he would go and get a dish from the pub instead. And then said he’s give me a call when they had finished eating.

It turns out that by the time they had finished eating it was getting so late that we decided to do the drink on another day. Which is funny, because that kind of makes our first date me with wet hair and my head buried in the kitchen cupboard looking for a tray for him to roast a cat in. I'm not sure if that is a good thing, or a bad thing, but one thing is for certain - we will always have something to laugh about if we ever do make it to the pub for a drink.

Beechams-gate

When receiving a slightly suggestive text from your fit neighbor, asking what your medicine is, after hearing you are suffering from a cold, I would strongly advise to respond with something equally suggestive and flirtatious.

Or, like me dosed up on drugs and syrups for my cold, you could respond in a slightly not-on-the-ball confused manner with simply: Beechams flu-plus, why?

If only the ground could swallow me up.

French Kissing

I have been making the most of my singledom in recent weeks. I have reactivated my membership on a Mysinglefriend.com, and have been in full flirt mode on nights out with the girls.

On Thursday I went for a date with a guy from MSF. It wasn't the best. He was dissapointingly short, as so many often are when meeting this way, and after a few drinks he started playing air guitar with a pool cue when there wasn't even any music playing. And yes he wanted to play pool on a first date. And he also spent about 20 minutes networking with some guy in the members club we were at. Not the best impression to make on me really!

Infact the best part of the night was once I got home. I had forgotton my keys and was waiting in the porch for my housemate to get home and my gorgeous neighbour found me and invited me into his to wait, with a glass of wine. He is french and his accent mesmerising, so a glass of red wine and two cigerettes later I was smitten. He hillariously tried to teach me how to say 'Roux' and laughed at me for my complete inability to make the sound properly. We also discovered we share the same birthday!

Well, I saw him last night in the pub over the road from our building and may have had a cheeky valentines kiss with him. Or two. And I woke up swooning this morning! But I'm not sure if is a good idea what with him living a couple of doors down the corridor. My housemate says there is nothing wrong with it, but her boyfriend warned me not to 'sh*t on my own doorstep'. Lovely phrase there, but a sensible meaning. I'm not sure if I fancy sharing a front door with someone I'm thinking of kissing a bit - it could all get abit awkard when we stopped kissing each other.

Wah but he's so gorgeous! And French!

Hmmmmmmm.

Oh well, I've got another date tomorrow night which should distract me at least for one night. Let's just hope this guy doesn't have penchant for pool cue air guitar.

I Swallowed a Cactus

I am feeling quite sorry for myself this morning. I have had a sore throat all week, but it got so bad yesterday, along with a fever, that I didn't go in to work, and I am still in bed now. My tongue has swollen up, and now my ear is starting to ache. All on the right hand side of my head/mouth/throat. Wah I hate sore throats.

And it's even worse because I don't have anyone to look after me, or go to the shop and get me orange juice and ice lollies. I would kill for some Ben & Jerry's cookie dough right now. And a biiiig glass of tropicana (with bits obviously).

It has also made me realise I really need to end what is left of my holiday romance with D. I spoke to him yesterday morning and told him how i felt really ill and was in bed, off work etc. Then when we spoke later on in the evening he didn't ask me how I was feeling at all, and after about ten minutes even asked me how work had been - he had totally forgotten or had just not been listening in the first place. It just made me wonder why I bother. If you have been seeing someone for nearly five months it would be nice if they actually made some effort with you.

I've been in a bit of a grump with the situation since Christmas really, he didn't get me a present or make any effort to meet up before I left for two weeks. Then, when we met up a week after I got back we had a stupid argument about the Israel/Palestine situation, and he really wound me up because it felt more like he was just trying to argue for the sake of arguing about something rather than because he felt strongly about it/had any real understanding of it.

I think basically he is just too young for me - and I have felt this all along but there was never really any issues, but over time I have started to notice I have different priorities. He just acts like a twenty-year-old, which is no bad thing by any means, but just not what I need. He is a good person, and it was nice to keep a bit if Ibiza alive for a while, but I think it has well and truly fizzled.

God my throat is hurting. I think sore throat is my least favorite illness and it means I get dehydrated quickly because it hurts to swallow, even water.

Has anyone got any pearls of wisdom for me to cheer me up a little? And if someone could pop round with a fruit pastel ice lolly that would be great.

Reflections of 2008 and onwards into 2009

Yes I'm abit behind with my the seasonal blog posts, but I barely stepped near a computer for the blissful two weeks I spent back in the 'shire.

2008 for me has whizzed by in abit of a blur really. This time last year I was just moving into my new flat in London and in the same job I'm in now - so really there has been very little change. Oh and I'm still single. But I've had my fair share of dates, including a drop dead gorgeous cricket playing surrey lad, a stock broker and a personal trainer. Oh and not forgetting the toy boy from Ibiza who still lingers but for how long I don't know. I had an amazing holiday to Ibiza that now seems like a distant dream. And finally I got myself into more debt this year living in London than I have ever been in in my life. Although it is all manageable and is not stressing me out really. Marks out of ten for the year? I'd give it an eight for fun times, but a low six for life satisfaction.

So what about New Year's Resolutions? Basically to sort my life out. It is glaringly obvious to all who know me that London is not really the city for me, I've had fun but i've never been blissfully happy. London to me feels like a relationship that you are not all that happy in, but can't quite bring yourself to be bothered to leave. So it's time to get my arse into gear and leave! All my closest friends still live in Birmingham and I really miss them. As well as missing my family and the ever increasing debt as London is totally unaffordable on my salary.

This time next year I resolve to be living in a nice little two bedroomed semi in Birmingham, with a small garden and two cats. Boyfreind would be nice. Car desired. Job satisfaction essential. I've started researching suitable companies in my field to approach already, so watch this space. Hopefully soon this will become a blog of relocation.

Best piece of advice given to me over the festive period: "2009 is your year, and you alone are responsible for your happiness - so if changes need to be made, MAKE THEM, or 2010 will come round and you will still be sat at this table moaning that things are 'OK' but not 'Great'." Hear hear! :o)

The problem with boys...

At one stage or another they manage to sneak right into your head! I've been seeing D for about ten weeks now and all has been nice and chilled, no stresses really. But then comes the moment when you realise you are starting to get just a weeny bit closer to them than you had planned. Suddenly you feel slightly vulnerable and open to pains of the heart, and I hate this part.

I don't see me and him being together for a long time for various reasons, infact when we met on holiday in ibiza I thought it would just be one night, then just a holiday romanace, then just one meeting back in London and it's just gone on from there. Long phone calls and facebook messaging in the day. I don't really know where the ten weeks have gone but suddenly here we are, and I think I like him. Only I'm scared to like him because to be honest I can just see heartbreak in the future if 'liking' starts to happen.