Tag Archives: online dating

Very little can happen in a month

23 Oct

So, just what has been going on in life that has been keeping me so busy? Oh, I’m sure you are expecting tales of amazingness. I’ve no doubt been to exotic locations and done loads of amazing work and met amazing people and been on amazing dates and done amazing snogging and maybe even had some sex.

Nope.

I’ve mostly been working. Travelling to places like Nottingham. Keeping myself busy with yoga and swimming. Doing handstands. Hell yeah.

Let me try and make my life sound marginally more interesting by breaking things into three categories: The Good News, The Bad News, and the News I Am Yet to Write.

The Good News

The good news is I don’t have cancer or any pre-cancerous cells. Yayyyy for my cervix. I need to go back every six months until my body proves that we’re planning on staying that way. But it was a massive relief. And I want to say a big “thank you, you lovely people” to all the buddies who messaged me with best wishes and to tell me everything would be OK. I was scared, and it helped.

The Bad News

Yup, pretty sure I’ll never get over my ex. I haven’t been on any dates since the incredibly boring man. I’ve been mulling a lot. Thinking about a future alone. Scaring myself. And then I just say, “screw it” and focus on work, or making my flat feel autumnal and lovely. Both of which are marvellous distractions, but don’t actually stop the deep down uncertainty and fear of never meeting someone.

The News I Am Yet to Write

So, I figure, I need to change. I need to do something that will take me out of myself and shift me one way or another. It’s been 14 long months since the Pizza of Doom and I still cry over him. Not. OK. Which is why I’m planning on taking a month off work next year and going to Japan. On my own. Scary? Yes. Exciting? For sure. And hopefully I’ll come back a changed woman and able to actually move on with life.

I’m not going ’til May next year. But hang on til then, and I can assure you this blog is going to get a lot more exciting.

In the meantime, I’ve missed you all very much. Thanks for bearing with me. I am trying.

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A different take on the same old problem

28 Sep

sex_and_the_city_007

Sometimes I feel so lonely I could die.

I’ve had a run of weekends recently when none of my friends were about. This is perhaps the fourth weekend in a row that I’ve spent swimming, going to yoga, and watching TV. This weekend I decided to start watching ‘Sex and the City’ from the beginning. There is no better therapy. So much of it rings so true. And it makes me feel OK to admit certain things to myself. Like the loneliness. The fear of dying alone. The resentment of smug couples and yummy mummies.

It hit me somewhere between Season 1 and Season 2 that – although I want to meet someone – what I’m really missing right now is, well, more friends. I don’t want to paint myself as a total loser. I do have friends. But a combination of factors means most of them don’t live in London. Or, don’t live in London anymore. Work is super sociable. During the week I’m surrounded by colleagues who I genuinely consider to be friends. But the weekends. Ugh. There’s nobody, unless I jump on a train to Scotland (which I’ve been doing more and more of this past year).

So maybe what I want isn’t necessarily a boyfriend.

I watch ‘Sex and the City’ and I’m so envious of that group of women with each other to turn to. That’s another thing – most of my friends in London are men. They’re fun. They’re great company. But it’s not the same as having a group of girlfriends.

So what do I do?

There’s no way I’m ever moving back to Scotland. But maybe I need to hit “Restart” on my social life.

I have tried this past year. I started yoga to try and meet new people. I didn’t meet anyone, but I discovered I love yoga. Maybe language classes would be more sociable? So I started Italian, but three classes in I couldn’t keep up with the homework and had to forget it.

If only there was a Tinder for making new friends. I have no idea how at the age of 32, settled with a flat and a career and ready-made life I go about creating a new social circle. Any ideas?

Because more and more I’m feeling like I need to prioritise. And as much as I want someone to go through life with, and marriage, and kids, and happily ever after, I also want someone to call after I’ve been on dates, and talk to before them, and visit Topshop with, and bitch about work over coffee, and eat pizza and watch DVDs.

I actually have a date this afternoon. I almost forgot.

Sometimes I wonder

26 Sep

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever feel normal again.

It’s over a year since the Pizza of Doom. I’m a different person now. I actually think I’m more confident, more resilient, more empathetic. I know I’m stronger than I realised. I know I’m wiser now. But I think, deep down, there’s lasting damage. There are depths of sadness which I never thought I’d reach – and which I hope I never fall to again – but that scare me still.

Last night I went on a date.

The guy was really lovely. He has a great job, he lives quite near me and has his own flat, he has lovely manners. But I found myself picking away at him inside my head. Too nice. Too thin. Too boring.

He insisted on paying for dinner. Which, I’ll admit, felt nice. It’s been a long time since a boy bought me dinner. But then when he asked to see me again I felt I had to say yes.

So we’re meeting up on Sunday for a walk and lunch.

Which should feel nice, whether or not I end up fancying him and wanting to see him again. He’s a nice guy. It will be a nice afternoon.

Yet I found myself crying as I walked home from work tonight. Because he’s not my ex. He never will be. And I will never have my ex back.

I don’t think I’ll ever feel the way I felt about him ever again.

Which means I might be destined to be alone. Forever.

Date night in Covent Garden

19 Aug

I should have trusted my guts. Any man who wants to meet at Covent Garden tube station is not going to be my husband.

I was bored. All night.

The sushi was good.

We split the bill.

Here we go again

19 Aug

I’ve been up since 5am on account of a very, very important prospective client coming in. The very, very important prospective client left at noon, and I’ve been running around the office since trying to sort things out and catch up on everything I haven’t been doing while I was preparing for the very, very important prospective client. 

Now, it’s nearly 5.30pm, and how I wish I was heading home to eat fish fingers and watch Real Housewives. 

But I have a date tonight. And it’s too late to cancel. 

C (we will call him “C”) lives in South London (boo). Works in tech for a bank (hmm). And has quite good chat. 

This is our first date. We met on the eHarmony. 

He has booked a table for sushi at 8.30. 8.30. So late for me on a school night. What am I supposed to do until 8.30?

He has booked it at a place in Covent Garden. Hmm. Never had a date anywhere near Covent Garden that went well. Tourists, anyone?

Oh well, here goes nothing. 

I want to feel wanted

17 Aug

Irish Two and I went out on Friday night. As friends. Which is what we are these days. It’s actually nearly six months since we decided we were destined to be friends and stopped trying to be anything more. And stopped having sex. Sigh.

I don’t regret that we ended things. There are oh-so-many reasons that Irish Two is not right for me. Not least, he’s a sociopath. But when he started telling me about girls he’s been dating/having sex with, I felt a strange urge to scratch his face. 

Tinder has been good to him, delivering all manner of women who want to send him sexual pictures and meet up for sexual times. No big deal. He’s a dude. I get it. 

But then he told me, “I thought I’d met a nice girl.”

Emmm. Hello. You told me we weren’t compatible because I’m “too nice” and that you “didn’t want someone who’s nice to you.” Now you want a nice girl?

I told him this while knocking back a Negroni and trying to conceal my anger. 

I don’t want to be with Irish Two. But I don’t like feeling rejected. 

At least he had the good sense and sensitivity to say, “Sorry, do you not want to hear about this stuff?” Also, the “nice girl” he thought he had found then sent him a load of naked pictures and told him she’s sleeping with four different guys and doesn’t want a relationship.

I told him I don’t mind hearing tales of his dating mishaps. I guess the more I know about what he’s doing with other people the more it cements our relationship as “just good friends” which is all it can ever be. I need to be with someone who appreciates me for being nice. He is not that guy.

But why is it that when I know every reason we shouldn’t be together, I still want him to want me? Because I think that’s really what it boils down to. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel like someone of the male variety can look at me and think, “Wow, she’s so pretty and smart and funny and lovely. I want to have sex with her and also hold her hand and stroke her face and be with her forever.”

That’s what I thought my ex was thinking the whole time we were together. That’s what he told me he was thinking. But, as it happens, he just said those things. 

I have a date on Tuesday night with a dude from the eHarmony. 

At least I’m trying. 

 

Dating stalemate

11 Aug

I have a few dates lined up. With a few different dudes. Don’t judge. It’s 2014. It’s London. And I’m 32. Options must be kept wiiiiiide open.

Problem is, I don’t seem capable of mustering up the energy to go on these dates.

I just want to skip to being with a nice guy at the comfy, cosy stage where you can lie on them on the sofa, or stick your feet in their lap, or fall asleep on them. I want conversation and sex and everything too, not just a glorified mattress, but you get the idea. Comfort is key.

I look ahead to Christmas. To next year. To turning 33. And I think, “Dear God let me have met someone.”

But I cannot face putting on makeup and getting my hopes up only to face two hours of inane chat over drinks.

I’m trying to convince myself that dating can be fun. But, really, can dating be anything other than awkward over the age of 30?

Let’s hope so.