Archive | February, 2014

The best of intentions

13 Feb

The week has flown by. Work, work, work, catching up with friends, getting lots of sleep (I seem to need ten hours a night since I was ill). And now the week is about to be punctuated by Friday. Valentine’s Day.

Well, I am spending Valentine’s Day celebrating my most enduring relationship and greatest love of all – Netflix. I will be bingeing on House of Cards Season Two. I’m not even going to feel bad about that. But wait. A twist in the plot. I will not be bingeing alone. Oh no. My new Irish friend is coming over to watch with me. And to eat pizza. There is so much that is unexpected about this situation. Not least the pizza element.

Then, on Saturday evening we’re going out to eat. 

My Mum is part Italian. Which means I am blessed with dark, dark hair and was born with the ability to cook a mean aubergine parmigiana. Irish Two is yet to sample my cooking skills, other than pizza. He called me the other night and asked if I like going to Italian restaurants or prefer to have it homecooked. I told him that I love going to Italian restaurants, “If they’re good.”

Well, Irish Two went ahead and booked the swankiest Italian in London for Saturday night. Theo Randall’s at the Intercontinental on Park Lane. 

If you don’t know London, Park Lane is, like, well posh.

And this restaurant ain’t cheap.

Which leaves me wondering, who is paying for my dinner?

On all of our early dates, Irish Two and I split the bill. As I mentioned before, I am all about paying my own way. But I’d rather take turns. There is something spectacularly unromantic about gazing at each other across the table, touching hands, and then the moment the bill lands you both whip out your Amex and start doing complicated calculations with regards to the tip. Not cool.

Last Saturday we spent a small fortune on Negronis and tapas, and when the bill arrived Irish Two asked me, “Am I supposed to pay?” 

I told him, “No, but it’s nice if you offer to.” 

In the end he insisted in paying. And we had sex afterwards, so I feel like he did OK out of the whole situation.

Well, I checked out this place we’re going this Saturday and my wallet felt a little bruised just looking at the menu. I felt sheer panic. So I emailed Irish Two and said, “Wow, this place you have booked looks really beautiful and delicious, but I’m a bit worried about how expensive it is.”

The correct response to this was, of course, “Don’t worry, it’s my treat.”

Oh no. Not from my Irish Two. He responded with a lengthy description of the episode of House of Cards he had just watched, not mentioning Saturday or the financial side of dinner at all.

Sometimes I think Irish Two just needs a bit of training. He was in a relationship for six years that ended a year ago. He doesn’t really know how to date as a grown up. I’ve already told him off for leaving the toilet seat up, not putting a kiss at the end of his emails, and never telling me that I look nice. He actually thanked me for all these advices.

He’s a curious character. But there’s something refreshing about a man who genuinely has no idea what he’s doing. Although the best of intentions.

Because, to be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing either. Although the best of intentions. 

Irish Number Two

10 Feb

Saturday was date number six with Irish number two. We started out going to see Dallas Buyers Club at a great little cinema that has a bar and sofas.

Bar. Sofas.

Both conducive to snogging.

Even during a movie in which it feels very inappropriate.

When you’re in your thirties.

Then we went for tapas and cocktails at a little hipster place near my flat. What do you know? Irish was busting out all the compliments this time. I’m smart. I’m funny. I’m beautiful. All true stories. Nice that he noticed at last.

He insisted on paying for dinner.

We stumbled back to mine around 2am.

Now, buddies. I am not a girl to take sex lightly. I’d only ever slept with three people before. Always in relationships. Always when I loved them. And we all know where that got me.

Well, I did have some sex with Irish number two. It was fun, and lighthearted. Different.

He stayed over and was very affectionate and sweet. We went for pancakes in the morning.

Of course it makes me think about the ex. And sex with the ex. Irish number two asks about him: what happened, and what the f*** was a banker doing living in Hackney anyway.

But I mostly feel anger.

And that feels ok.

Emotional baggage

8 Feb

After Christmas I mentioned that I’d been talking to a new Irish guy on the eHarmony. Well, we actually went on our first date on the 12th of January.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous before a first date. Or spent more time straightening my hair. The date was…meh.

Irish was doing ‘dry January’ and off alcohol for the month. Now, I’m not a girl who can hold her alcohol too well, so I’m all for having fun without a Negroni in my paw. But, a first date. It wasn’t the smoothest.

However, we clearly liked each other.

We had two more sober dates before he went snowboarding for a few days and I got sick with tonsillitis. And a few things were starting to bother me, aside from the sobriety. He’s a noisy eater. He didn’t really show me any affection. And he never offered to pay for me. I’m absolutely a ‘split the bill’ kind of girl, but I wanted him to want to pay for me. Or at least tell me that I look nice.

I couldn’t work it out. He called me from Austria when he was snowboarding. He emails and texts me all the time. When I had tonsillitis he offered to bring me fro yo. And at the end of every date – fabulous snogging. But no sweetness. No compliments.

So, last Saturday night he came over to hang out with me. I was still exhausted from being ill, so I made us a pizza (yes – pizza – can’t get enough of it these days), we drank some Aperol and watched rubbish on TV. We started kissing, ended up in my bedroom, and we did not have sex but things did go further. Suddenly I felt terrible. I just wanted him to go home. Which he did. And I cried. Lots.

On Wednesday night I saw my counsellor and we kind of agreed that while he might be a nice fling to have, this dude was just not connecting with me emotionally.

I was in his neighbourhood to see my counsellor anyway, so we met up for dinner (and split the bill). Afterwards we went for a drink and – low and behold – Irish turned to me and said, “I don’t feel like we’re really connecting.”

We talked about things. He told me about some of his ex relationships, and how he was brought up not to discuss his feelings. He told me he doesn’t want to go through life like that. I told him about the ex, and said it upset me that he never even tells me that I look nice. Suddenly it was easy to be a little more touchy feely with each another. The whole time I was so hung up on him not showing me affection, but I wasn’t showing him any either.

He said something very interesting. That when people are our age (he’s a year older than me), we all have emotional baggage. I thought about it, and sure enough all of my single friends have scars of the heart. But, as Irish says, we need to be honest about stuff or we’ll never connect.

We’re going to the cinema tonight, then for dinner and cocktails. And tomorrow morning, we’re going for pancakes.

Oh helloooooooo again

5 Feb

My dear blogger buddies

I have been rubbish lately. Just rubbish.

But I have not disappeared. I still read your posts. I still want to write. I still have thoughts in my head that need to be, well, not in my head. 

It’s been an intense time of late. January brought me a ridiculous workload and another bout of tonsillitis. I have never been so ill as a grown up. The good news is that I lost my “cheese weight” that was leftover from Christmas. 

I’m having dating dilemmas with a red-haired man from Ireland. More to follow on this.

For now I just wanted to say, “Hello!”. For those who have been in touch and asked, yes yes yes I am still in need of my blog. To my lovely buddies, I promise to write more soon. To a few new followers, gosh you must think I’m boring. I’ll start writing some interesting things for you to read. 

April x