Monday, October 27, 2008

A Sequel?

When I was inflicting a moment of self-pity wallowing on a friend recently, she suggested going for round two.

A sequel to the saga of '17 dates in 17 days' that was.

My first thought was 'do they start planning sequels before they have even completed the first?'

After all, I'm still in the process of writing the original article.

Aside from the administration, the thought of going through all of that filled me with dread, gloom, fear, exhaustion, maddness, all rolled into one feeling of 'hell no!'

Well, not at the minute anyway.

Let's see how part one goes down first shall we?

Sunday, September 14, 2008

A date happened here

I sat at a table in a pub today and in passing remarked across the table, 'I sat at this table on a date once'.

Someone piped up 'There mustn't be many places in London you can't say that about'.

I guess that is kind of true.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Naughty or Nice

As I was musing on the tube home yesterday (while I had my head stuck in the armpit of a 150kg business man) I started to wonder about why my dates had been single at all?

During my journey, I met a plethora of intelligent, fun, down to earth, good looking, relaxed, friendly guys. Could they have been an excellent in-situ example of the 'nice guy / bad guy' phenomenon? Why is it that the bad guys seem to get all the attention?

Women are generally smart individuals; so why is temkek* so common? Games are so '90s ladies and gentlemen. There just isn't time in this world to be messing about with being messed about. Let's think less like Trivial Pursuit and more like Connect Four.

I say, let's change the rules so the nice guys finish first. You know the ones. They reply to your e mails in good time. And they call when they say they will. No longer should we be sitting around waiting for the phone to ring; or jumping every time you get a text message through in case it's him. And bollocks to the three day rule**.

Get yourselves a 'nice' guy ladies. You wont ever look back.

* Temkek - Treat 'em Mean - Keep 'em keen
You can either be Mr. Nice Guy to your women or Temkek 'em. For some reason only known to the creator of women's brains, the latter works.

**Three Day Rule

A rule used by idiot guys who think that waiting three days after a date to call means that the girl will want them more, when really it just pisses them off.

'I thought he was blowing me off, but he totally three day ruled me. Classic.'

Friday, July 18, 2008

And that's a wrap

Well, it seems I have been forced to wrap things up. Cancellations on Friday and Saturday, along with Sunday remaining vacant has meant that my quest has been prematurely cut short.

So what do I do now? First, I'm going to go home and sleep for about 24 hours. Then I'm going to do my laundry, write the assignment that was due yesterday, talk to my housemates, write my mum a letter, read the rest of 'The Sea, The Sea', have a night out in Manchester, sleep some more...Maybe buy a sewing machine...

Then I guess I will slip back into my regular existence which I quite enjoyed prior to the 1st of July.

There shall be more musing on this blog, so don't go away. I just need some serious duvet time before I do anything. A nice summation of the entire escapade is in order I believe.

Woman becomes first ever to die from dating overdose

That would have been the headline had I not pulled through yesterday.

It was touch and go for a minute there. It all become too much. When you are so tired you start to forget your name and address.

But thanks to some encouragement from my work colleagues, I made it to #17. Box ticked.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Lady Luck

On Sunday afternoon as I was being rowed down the Thames in a boat named Madeline I opened one of about 20 envelopes. Inside was a strip of paper with Lucky or unlucky? on it.

At the time, in the afternoon sunshine, sitting on a velvet cushion, passing the greenery of Richmond Park, I thought I couldn't be any luckier.

But last night, as I lost odds & evens roulette four times in a row, I began to doubt myself.

After this loss of face, I had one last chance for a reprieve. In my hand I held one final chip. £2.50. Together we agreed to put it on one number. If we win we get £70 and the date could continue. We liked the idea of leaving it to the fates.

As we stood there deciding (me the typical Aquarian was just looking like I was deciding) my date's favourite number came up. Number One.

'Let's put it on number one!' he said with complete confidence.

'But that just came up!' I exclaimed. Completely illogically.

Chance past us by and the wheel was spun. We all know how this ends.

Number One came up.

I never believed in fate anyway.

Cold Feet

The Great Dating Escapade was due to go on tour this coming Friday.

That's right ladies and gentlemen, we were heading for the provinces. Well, Manchester at least.

That was until I had the news that both Friday and Saturday's Manchester volunteers had chickened out.

And so now I am left potentially dateless for the last three dates of the series. Therefore in a last ditch effort:

Dates still available:

Friday 18th (evening)
Saturday 19th (morning)
Sunday 20th (evening)

What is a girl to do? I get this far and fall at the final hurdle?

Sunday, July 13, 2008

My ideal day out

At the end of all this craziness, I was going to take the time to describe the date I would have taken me on, if I had been one of the 20.

But there is no need for that now, because yesterday I went on it.

The Tate Modern is one of my favourite places in the whole world. It's a huge, airy world of creativity. Nice subtle creativity. Not the kind that banging about in your head like ball bearings in a jar, confusing you entirely.

Not only did I get to re-visit this great brick friend on the edge of the Thames whom I have been neglecting of late; I got to complete a ten questioned mystery, Indiana Jones style, which had me moving from one exhibition to the next, hunting for massive mahogany three-way plugs suspended from the ceiling, and needles in Lichtenstein's haystacks. After eventually solving the ten mysteries (despite a slight stumble on the dynamic equilibrium in Mondrian's Composition C) I unlocked the secret door to level 7, which led to my kind of treasure. A table on the roof-top balcony of the Tate members only lounge with boutique beer, excellent conversation and a view straight out over the river to St Paul's.

An incredibly well thought-out and executed afternoon. It put my ideal date to shame.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Saved! Part 2

The dating gods did it again today (aka my friend Tita). I must have done some great things in a past life to have such fabulous luck. Or maybe I just have fabulous friends. I'm putting my money on the latter.

Dates still to be filled:

Friday 11th
Thursday 17th
Sunday 20th

Another plea to the dating gods

I am leaving this evening in the hands of the dating gods. If a mini miracle occurs and I end up with a date lined up tonight, then I will be very happy. If not, I will go home and do my laundry.

As much as I try to be optimistic, I fear I may have used up my two 'get out of jail free' cards last Wednesday and Thursday. Surely such a miracle couldn't happen again?