Beware Balls for Brains

So meet a nice guy, he's hansom, immaculately dresses, has a good job, the manners of a prince, is complimentary and knows how to show a girl a good time. But where's the flaw? You go on a couple of dates, and he seems to take quite a few calls. Now I don't know about you, but when I'm on a date, I tend to screen calls and only answer them if it's completely unavoidable as...you know it's quite rude to be chatting on the phone when in the company of others, let alone someone you're trying to score with. Some girls would wonder if it's other girls calling this catch, however it soon becomes apparent that all the conversations are in fact to do with football. Discussing games, arranging tickets, pre-empting the next game...this guy seems to be a tad over zealous about the beautiful game. However you let it slide as soon as his attentions back on you. 

The night escalates and we get more and more carried away with the wine as our civilised date has somehow turned into a full blown pub crawl along the South Bank. As the night rolls on we try and get into a club but to no avail as we are clearly battered, so we go back to his. Now this guy is well turned out so I'm expecting his house will be lovely. We get there and it is, it's huge and he shows me his garden where he grows his own vegetables and salad and I'm impressed. Off to the bedroom and I'm anticipating a sexy display of gentry, but what I'm faced with is a cruel reality of dating a guy my own age. The walls are plastered with Arsenal Posters and there's pants and dirty t-shirts all over the floor. Oh well we're drunk and we get on with it and it's good. 

As the morning breaks, he's sat bolt up right on his laptop looking at footbally things, and the phone starts ringing and he's banging on about getting tickets for a specific match. Now I don't know about most guys but when they've got a beautiful naked girl in their bed you'd think they might want to pay her attention, but sadly all this boy had on his brain was balls.

We have ceased dating, but remain civil friends. 

Beware the dreaded 'married man'

Don't you just love it when you get to that age that married men become a problem. With mortgages, children and that little gold band it's hard to find any that aren't attached...not to mention the fact that aren't insane. 

My friend and I have both recently had run ins with 'the attached' and it is becoming more and more apparent that they too are all ass holes. Treating younger women to expensive dates in the hope to escape their home lives and expecting us to be twenty-something twinkies that will just fall into bed with them is just not on. Do they think we have no morals? I think it's highly unfair to treat their families in this way, and not to mention treating us young, intelligent girls in this way. And as we were discussing, when you meet these men you realise you like them, but don't want to; so you put them in that little box of 'never going to happen' and shove it to the back of the cupboard where you'll hopefully forget it's there. Only to find it three years later, you open it up and 'I've been in love with you for the past three years' pops out to bite you in the ass. 

Now what gets me about these men is, it's never 'oh I really like you, and always have done' or 'sometimes I wish I wasn't married' it's always these insecure over zealous declarations of love...and quite frankly you know it's all bollocks because they'd never leave their wives and you would never want to split a family up. So what are you supposed to do with that?

...Put it in another box and take it to the tip. 

And never get married too young!

Beware the man that calls you Tinkerbell

Upon a recent venture to Southampton for a friends birthday, I was pleased to see she had some handsome friends. The wine and punch was flowing as I circulated through the party, a few of us had come down from London, but being the chatty girl I am I got talking to a rather dashing fellow that I didn't know. He was tall and good looking and ever so funny and we clicked. As the day rolled on and everyone got more relaxed we kept positioning ourselves next to each other whenever we could. 

As the sun set, the barbeque was over and we all decided to hit a club, so the menfolk disappeared to their homes to get changed as we girls got dolled up ready for a night of fun and debauchery. We all trolled down to the club and me and my project for the evening carried on talking. When we got to the club we stuck with everyone for a bit and then made an excuse to hang out alone - the smoking ban's not always a bad thing. So there we sat outside chatting away and chain smoking. I remember being taken aback with how emotional this guy was, but didn't think anything of it, and just dismissed it as intoxication. 

By 3 a.m and one friend dumping her boyfriend in the club I find myself sitting on a wall outside of the club with said project waiting for everyone else so we can leave. We get back to the house and we've lost a few stragglers to a nearby house party. Not being completely comfortable with the thought of staying in my friends student house with 4 to a bed, I of course reply 'YES' when offered by said project to stay at his. By this point I don't think he's a perv as he hasn't tried to kiss me or made any lewd remarks...he just seems sweet and nice. 

So off we troll round the corner to the luxurious top floor apartment which he owns. Immaculate - I'm impressed. We sit on his white sofa and continue talking for a bit and then he kisses me. Good kisser - CHECK! We get carried away and go into the bedroom, but I don't sleep with him because I'm really quite drunk and generally have a rule of thumb that I stick to. If I'm too drunk to see, wait til the morning and if he's still gorgeous, do it then. So that's exactly what happened. Now the weird thing is, I feel completely comfortable with him. 

I get a phonecall from my friend who I was supposed to be staying with and she tells me to come back immediately, so me and Project go back to hers and he cuddles me and plays with my hair while we all sit in the garden. Not being used to someone being this affectionate straight away I lap up the attention...and proceed to miss my ride back to London to stay with him another night. 

So we're all at his place and a few people are round for some snacks and the cooking of the remaining food from the barbeque. We're cooking dinner together and he's kissing my neck whilst I do things round the kitchen. It's like instant relationship and we're so at ease with each other. I try not to question why this is and just enjoy it, but I should've questioned it. 

Next weekend rolls around and I hop in the car down to Southampton to see him. We're having a nice time, but I can tell he's in a scratchy mood and I say to him in jest "Me and you are going to fall out tonight." And that's exactly what happens, following going to a club and a girl chucking a drink over him, I'm wary and shocked, but just thinking maybe it was a misunderstanding. He gets drunk and starts ranting at me saying that people should respect him and talking about himself in the third person. I've noticed that he talks over people a lot, not a quality I'm keen on and after he's had his rant I sit him down and say I didn't mean to upset him, but I'm beginning to sense he's a bit more hard work than I thought. Everything is fine and we go inside and the rest of the weekend is nice. 

The following weekend it's my turn to play host, and he already gets annoyed at me for giving him bad directions to my house. I find myself apologising to him, again not something I usually feel the need to do in new romances. He arrives and it's all ok though, but after a few drinks the anger is back. As we leave my friend's bar in London we walk past a group of American's to which he passes the comment "Fucking Yanks" loud enough for them to hear and turn around and confront him. I find myself embarrassed and trying to explain to him that you cannot speak to people like that for fear of getting stabbed. I manage to tear the handsome maniac away and get him into a cab, but by this point I am fully aware that the man has got severe issues. But I'm beginning to see how he continues to make me feel comfortable. 

Beware the man that calls you Tinkerbell and Princess and showers you with compliments. After the night before antics I'm suprised with chocolates from Harrods and treated like a princess, so I'm now getting used to the high's and lows of Project Southampton. By Sunday, following amazing sex the night before and a successful dinner party in which he wowed my friends with amusing annecdotes, he's developed some sort of baby talk syndrome and guess what: I'm not into it. Not liking the dual personality that much I can't wait for him to leave but have to wait until 4 pm after having served his royal highness breakfast in bed.  

And now...I've avoided seeing him for the last weekend but am now getting text messages saying you don't love me any more. Now...at what point did I ever say I did love you. I am not someone who likes to get tamed and following a three year relationship I want to date, I don't want a boyfriend but I do like the treatment. My friend came out with something very poignant regarding this little mishap "Have you ever thought about getting to know someone a bit better before you sleep with them." And you know what I'd never entertained the thought before...so maybe I'll listen to her.