An average night

Yep. Tassles cancelled.

When I texted her on Friday afternoon to make plans for the night, she replied saying she messaged me on Thursday (she didn't) saying she got tickets to Lovebox. Pissed me off but what can you do eh?

Actually I'll tell you what: go get drunk with some buddies.

I went to a few bars in Dalston and settled into the challenge and slating that is the dynamic of this particular group of friends (constant insult and debate, I like it). It was a bar that's been around for ages but that I'd not actually got round to going to till last night. It was a good looking crowd, music a little too pretentious at times (turning the PA up for a Lightening Bolt tune at 9:30pm in a bar is a little excessive in my book), with lots of friends coming and going - all of which contributed to a good drunken vibe.

As we sat there I spent about half an hour on and off talking to a girl on whatsapp (instant messenger) I went on a date with years ago who I've always kept in touch with. She's a petite actress/dancer, brunette, fair skinned, well spoken and pretty. We get on pretty well. She's a bag of insecurities and neuroses but I think that's mainly because (well aside from the fact we all are) she's a thinker and has been surrounded by bitchy dancers/actresses who are always pulling each other down and undermining each other - I've kind of acted as a confident and friend. And perv. She's very submissive and we've talked endlessly and graphically about all the things we'd do, it got to a point where I was kind of her master, telling her what to do, making her send or do things for me from the mundane to the explicit - I had the option to own this girl as my fuck toy. However I pulled back because I didn't want that responsibility, I wasn't in a place where I wanted the burden of that dynamic, I didn't want a relationship. I knew that to take it away would have been a very big thing to do to her. She needs a man to be a master to her, she really loves it, it gives her purpose.

She told me she's now seeing a guy who is ticking this box for her in quite a big way. She says they're falling in love, and that their sex is amazing - pretty S&M too. I just hope he's taking that power respectfully, as I say, I think it's a big responsibility. Playing that role doesn't mean you just get to do what you want and treat your woman harshly. It means you consider her at all times, and I mean emotionally more than physically too (bruises and slap marks fade).

I saw her for a few hours a couple of weeks ago. She was presenting some kind of show thing and I went to meet her before she had to work, we drank, talked, kissed a little in the dressing room, but we kept it above board. Whilst I don't know her enough to know that I'd take that responsibility on, I do know that we would have a lot of fun with that dynamic between us. When I'm with someone, I take on their emotional side too - their issues are there to be shared, I support their endeavours, in fact - all in all I'm pretty girly on that front maybe. Anyway on hungover days like today, what I would do for some slow, sensual languid sex this afternoon. Actually this makes me realise I've not had meaningful sex for....as long as I can remember. Hmmm. That sucks.

So back to last night - we left the bar and got a cab to a houseparty down the road. It was a girl who my mate worked with who buzzed us in. We walked up five flights of stairs (which even in this 'nice' warehousey place smelled ever so faintly of piss/desperation - anywhere where there are concrete stairwells it seems there are men giving into temptation) and she greeted us at the door with "I'm sorry guys but there's loads of gays here" - she wasn't lying; we walked into a room filled with lot of disco, mincing and excited wide eyed men gesticulating.

There were probably about 15-20 people in the room. A flat in an art deco building, a large high ceilinged room with an old cast iron window lining the length of the wall. There were a couple of sewing machines as well as a few dummy's lying around so going by the occupant I guess it was a fashion crowd, although the way people were dressed didn't make me think it was. We'd each bought a bottle of wine with us and we set about cracking them open and decanting them into plastic cups.

My annoyance at a thing that happened at work which consequently developed after work (iphone + emails = never not at work) coupled with my cancelled date had left me in a 'fuck the world' mood where I wanted to just go get wasted. I actually didn't go and drink as vehemently as I could have done, however I did decide I would smoke which was even more nihilistic really. I quit in January, and didn't touch a cigarette till the end of May when I went to a music festival; the way I saw it I was away, I was going to be taking just about everything else that was naughty so I may as well smoke.  Then I returned home and didn't smoke again. Till this night which I told myself was a one off...

After about 10 minutes of talking with a couple of girls we knew there I took myself off to the side to roll a cigarette. I was behind their dining table by the window, on the other side in the corner of the room was a small bookcase and a couple of lamps. There was a girl standing there who I acknowledged with a a cursory nod as I went back to concentrating on constructing my little cone of sin. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her do a Del Boy onto the lamps. She knocked the shade off of one and had fallen back into the corner, leaving everything but herself standing.

I could have just stood there, but instead I squeezed myself through the small gap past the chairs over to her and helped pick her up from the floor, fit the shade back on the lamp and try to make her not feel like too much of a dick. She'd simply misjudged where the hell anything was (the wall, the bookcase, maybe even the lamps) and lent into thin air which of course, didn't lean back. She thanked me for coming over to help pick her up and asked me my name. I lit her cigarette, then mine and we started to talk. Now I was stood here I could see she was pretty. She was a Ukrainian/Canadian brunette photographer who looked like Gemma Arterton, so not "fuck you're sex on legs" - more a "wow, you're really pretty" type thing. After about 15 minutes of talking she went to the toilet and I went back to my friends to drink, dance stupidly, do bumps and talk shit.

As the party thinned out it was pretty much gay dudes, us and a few girls left. It got to about 4:30am and I decided that the party had gone, there was no point in forcing it so I should go home. I said goodbye to the people I'd talked to, and then went over to Mary, shook her hand told her it was nice to meet her before I left to walk home.

What a dick.

Now I'm not saying that she liked me, I have no idea. But I do know that I let myself down here. I was at a party which was winding down, there were a few gay guys, a few straight and Mary who I for some reason, never approached to talk to again. WTF? Why didn't I go and talk to her again? She was really pretty, a photographer, we'd gotten on. Why didn't I stay longer and talk to her? Idiot.

Instead, I just walked home had an unsatisfactory inter-wank (obligatory) and passed out.

If I carry on like that, I deserve to not get anywhere.

You know what? In the time since I've not been writing this blog of late I've not really been dating. I've had sex sure, but of late that hasn't been that often either - I've kind of just stepped out of the game a little. Well that and the fact that the couple of girls I've been speaking to are either a tease/taken/hard to pin down/in Newcastle.

I think I need to get myself out there again.

In fact fuck it that's what I'm going to do now.

London...you have been warned; I intend to charm then fuck the living daylights out of you.

Tassles part 2

A few weeks back now, maybe even a month, I finally got round to having a second date with Tassles.

Tassles is a beautiful girl, a dirty mouthed, insightful and articulate girl. If it wasn't for the fact that she is maybe a little self absorbed and crazy - not her fault, she's crazy hot and also sharp with it - I'd be pursuing her more actively. She has the midas touch I imagine, a side effect of beauty I've speculated on before - and maybe if I felt I had nothing to lose (which is how I felt before K) I'd be chasing her down more.

I've realised I chase girls who are 'out of my league', find that I can actually get them, then either get bored, or in the case of K, open up and stop playing games. Which I've learned is a BIG no no......Now maybe some girls are shaking their head thinking "What? Of course games are stupid, all we want is a man who will say they love you, that you're the best whilst also being strong, solid yet open" well sure, yes you do.

But you also want to have a man who is slightly out of your reach still - 'Alpha' - you need to feel like you have never quite tamed him, that he's still independent and though he loves you, it's on his terms. His terms in that he is deciding at every point to give you his love, because he is not short of other girls to give it to. He's allowed you to have the key to his heart. Once you feel like you've got the key, that his love is there to be taken for granted - that's where there's the element of coveting something more. Of, hmmm - well I got that.....maybe I could do better. It's animal nature. Men and women manifest the same things in different ways. Now I'm not saying all girls or guys slavishly act on this instinct - but nice guys finish last.

But anyway back to the point...

We'd arranged a date or two which we'd had to cancel for whatever reason, and we'd been sending a few texts here and there - even if she's not the most communicative of people. One night I sent her a picture of me in a state of undress - not balls out naked (who would just jump in with two feet and do that?), just with my top off. Now I'd not typically send this out of the blue, but the way she was on our date, things we'd said and stuff she'd say on facebook made me think that she'd be....well, down with some 'naughty' business.

Turns out that she wasn't. She asked me why I'd send it to her and generally made me feel like a bit of a dick for sending it. Wups.

However she then a day or so later apologised saying that it was her time of the month, she wasn't feeling hot at all and that she was sick of guys sending her pictures like that (haha, who knew we were all at it??) and that I'd just caught her at the wrong time - because now she was now 'appreciating it' alone on her couch.

So we arranged to meet on a Sunday afternoon for a few drinks. Now ordinarily I'd never go in for this, and certainly wouldn't on a first date because: it's more than likely that I'll be hungover, and: you can't really drink and get up to no good. Which is pretty much diametrically opposed to my general game plan for fun. There, I said it ok?

So Sunday arrives and true to form I'm of course hungover. She very kindly offers to come over to Dalston to meet me speculating quite correctly that I'm hungover and won't want to travel too far, so we hit on 4pm and that's that. In my head I'm thinking two things, first "That's seriously nice of her" and as my brain narrows it's eyes and strokes it's chin, a second more interesting thought introduces itself "....I wonder if she wants us to be close to my flat so we can maybe end up there too?" - either way, it was a cool thing for her to suggest.

I walked up to meet her at the train station, dark blue slim jeans were hanging off me as I'd forgotten to put my belt on, a white black polka dotted polo shirt done up to the top (natch) and black vans - which aside from some trusty Loakes, are the only shoes I've worn pretty much exclusively for the past few years: Unremarkable truefact.

I took a short cut down through Ridley Road, which whilst quaint, interesting and great to have on your doorstep, upon reflection isn't the best way to go on a 'romantic amble'. Let's just say the smell of fresh dead farm animals and their fishy cousins won't be bottled and sold on the shelves of Perfumeries around the world any time soon.

We get to the pub and grab some seats by the bar, a Guinness for me and a white wine for her. The conversation is easy and flowing. Some people leave a table and we slip into their places, the acquisition a small victory in the slowly building crowd of Sunday drinkers.

I've pulled back from the whole dating thing for a while now simply because it was offering me little thrill. Little insight, little novelty or elucidation by the hand or word of another. The melodrama of that sentence aside, I look forward to speaking - especially in person of course - to Tassles because I actually get this with her. It's not just the thrill of basking in the attention of a beautiful woman, it's the fact she surprises me, brings things out of me. Maybe that's more an indictment of my situation than her, but it is what it is - we seem to get on.

Mild though it is, my hangover is lifting. Tassles goes to the bar to get more drinks so I sit back and take my surroundings in. Tipping back in my chair I notice a battered dog bowl full of water under our seats, I wonder what dog was here before us, whether it's lead was held by a local stopping for a Sunday pint on his way back to his wife and kids, or maybe it was quenching the thirst of some nouveau-local's French Bulldog. Around me I see groups of smiling faces, the summer sun is setting and giving everyone a golden beatific appearance as though we're all in some kind of wholemeal bread advert. There's a breadboard in front of me on the side of the bar by a dumb waiter, I note how deep cut lines run from 10pm to 4pm - countless right handed bar staff through the years sawing their way through tower blocks of bread. My eyes return to the bar and to Tassles. I can see her profile, she's looking around too. I watch her wondering what thoughts are being formed from what she sees. She has a halo of golden hair around her as the sun gleefully plays around her too. As she bends forward to hand over her money my eyes fall down to her ass, for a second I forget myself and instead of thinking how much I wan to fuck her I purely see a beautiful behind, a tight pear shape of beauty.

She collects her change, picks up the drinks and turns back to bring them over. Rather than act like I'm otherwise engaged looking out the window or on my phone, I smile warmly at her and hold her eye holding out a hand to take my drink with a quiet "Thanks Tassles"

A few more drinks, a few more laughs and challenging questions/opinions later (that shit to me is everything) and we decide to move on.

We have to walk past my flat on the way back to the station (a very fortuitous geographical factor to my living arrangements), so since it's about 6pm now I suggest we go have a drink at mine.

"Sure but I'm not coming up to suck your dick"

o_O

Hahaha, brilliant.

However.

It soon conspired that somehow, by some unknown force that is still beyond me....she was.

I remember us talking on FB for the first time so many months ago and thinking "Wow, you've replied." and then "Wow, we're kind of getting on" and then thinking, "I'm going to date you at some point"

And date we did.

I have a third date with her tomorrow, and although she's potentially flakey let's hope we do see each other. I shall at the least continue recollecting the rest of this Sunday date afterwards, and hopefully have more to tell you besides if tomorrow night happens.

Thanks for stopping by here, I shall try to write a little more interestingly soon xx

And so it goes...

Fits and starts

I said I'd update you - but I've just got back from being in Berlin this week, and then the South of France at a festival, so I'm catching up on work, abstinence and the rest.

Upon my return I will cover some, if not all of the following:

- My second date with Tassles
- A girl who wanted to be a cat
- Kelly

At this juncture, if there's anything you'd like me to write about or ask - drop me a mail, it may chuck up something interesting x

unremarkable.man@gmail.com

K

I've been missing K today for the first time in a while. I'm not sure why but it started yesterday, an innocuos thought which planted the seed. Not that big a deal, it's just she's been on my mind today and now I'm remembering the good stuff rather than the bad.

So I'll show you a picture of her from one of these times.

I forgot I took this. It's a picture that was taken on I think on mine and K's second date. I had a Sharpie by my bed and for some reason I wanted to write on her ass. She was more than happy to let me.

She went away to Paris the next day for a Hen do. She forgot it was there and I'd love to have seen her stammering face as someone pointed it out.

That's all x