The Bitch is Back!

I’m sorry it’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog. I’d like to say it’s because my life got so wild and full of adventure, sexual and otherwise, that I haven’t had time to write but the complete opposite is probably closer to the mark.

Fuck all has happened.

Well….that’s not strictly true. I was asked to leave A. Merry. Cah, Reasonably politely- I’ll delve into that smashing day later. I also carried on my search in good ye olde London town. I met some more nutters, dressed as handsome, eligible men and I became an auntie again. Yeehah! Edging ever closer to owning several cats and smelling of wee.

Ok. So when I last wrote I was ensconsed in my eclectic(HATE that word)ly furnished Brooklyn apartment, by which I mean my bare flat with no matching furniture, most of which I’d found on the street.

I’d spent my summer with an eight year old boy, who was trying out several new medications for his ADHD. This made for a pretty unhappy bunny and there didn’t seem a lot I could do to improve this. Every day started with a positive chirpy little me and ended with a me, if not in tears, then in need of gin- and I don’t even like gin.

But of course this trip wasn’t all about work. I had a mission.

Husband Watch.

I’m afraid I failed dismally. At this point I’d like to put part of the blame on the surreal happenings at home. My Dad had left his 40 year marriage to my Mum for a single mother from Cardiff, who was half his age and by all accounts not quite all there. This put me off men slightly, at least for a little while.

I’d had a few dates but had been a bit lack-lustre in my search.

I think the only man I hadn’t mentioned in the blog (probably due to my misguided hope that it was going somewhere) was Sam. Sammy the Kat. Samuel Katz. Yes, his real name. I don’t think I care that, if through some very bizarre chain of events he ends up reading this and then knows I think he’s a bit of a cunt.

We met through the dating website, natch. He messaged me something about being his ‘penpal, or as a start to my heart’??

1. I thought this must be some American turn of phrase- so I was ready to let the fact it was totally twatty slide.

2. He was totally gorgeous. Like model good-looking but with a rougher edge. Sort of Tom Cruise mixed with Syed off of Eastenders- but actually nothing like either of thses people. Basically ‘woof’ was all I could say.

Turns out he was Canadian so I had to give him extra let off credits for the twatty introduction message.

After lots of witty email banter our first meeting nearly didn’t happen. He had fallen off his bike the night before, lost his ‘phone, cut his left eye open and spent the morning in hospital getting it sewn up. Hot man with scar. Woof.

BUT- he had gone to the effort of logging back onto the dating website to go back through our email banter, find my number and then call and explain as to why he hadn’t called/texted earlier with details of where we were to meet.

I did say not to worry, as I wasn’t sure I could deal with a sudden collapse due to head trauma missed by the ER doctors (George Clooney in my head)- but Sam was adamant he wanted to meet THAT afternoon.

I was impressed by all of this. Yes. I’m easily impressed. And flattered.

Any sensible woman might be thinking that any sensible man would stay at home and make sure he was ok. Possibly any sensible woman would be thinking ‘what sort of grown man falls off his bike drunk?’ But Brooklyn is rammed with grown men on bikes. And skateboards. Apparently this is acceptable and even cool.

It turned out that he was so desperate to meet me, not because he thought I was too hot to miss out on, but because he worked in film/TV and had absolutely no free time. This day was a very rare day off- it took me a little while to figure this out. I did think for a couple of weeks that he was just playing ‘hard to get’ or ‘wanker’ as I often call it.

But for a first date it went VERY well. Instant attraction, a very comfortable feeling with no breaks in conversation. We had planned to meet for a coffee for an hour but it then ran on into a walk and lunch too. He was shorter than I’d imagined but aren’t they always? I almost ran back to my S-I-Law’s office to tell her how good it was.

But there the trail went cold. I had mentioned a previous date I’d been on with the dude who kept touching me like we’d been together for six months, and we laughed about it together, but it appears that when our date ended he really didn’t know what to do. Maybe my mocking of this over-familair man had registered a bit strongly with Sam.We had an awkward hug and I gave my usual ‘yeah, like, whatever’ face which has sent out the wrong signal many a time to an eligible man. I wasn’t sure what to do either, I never am when I actually really like someone.

Basically after a few text messages it all went very quiet. This is where, if I was a sensible woman, I would just let things lie, but I’m not. I wanted to know whether the feeling that this had been a great date was just purely from my side and he really thought it was a bit mediocre or that I was a bit mediocre…

So to cut a long story short (yeehah! I hear you cry….again) I called. Apparently something I’d said in one of my texts had been taken the wrong way, I’d hurt his very sensitive feelings but now all was explained he’d love to meet up again. Now the only thing to do was to find a time that could happen. He worked ridiculous hours, tempted me with the chance to hang out at TV studios and get to touch such delicious creatures as Idris Elba, but always cancelled last minute.

It was frustrating but I thought I was being understanding by being so… understanding about the whole job thing.

One night he finally said he could meet me from work but having heard this a few times before I decided not to cancel my plans to meet a friend (Mr Essex) for a drink. Sam ended up coming too and then got a little shirty about having to share my attention. Yes, sort of like a small child with a penchant for odd hats. But a very good-looking one.

He took me home and we had a knee trembling kiss on my doorstep. One of those kisses that make you really want to sleep with someone because you know if they can kiss like that the chances are they know what they’re doing in bed. I’ve had this theory proved wrong but I’d say it’s 85% true.

I didn’t drag him inside because

1. I had to get up early for work

2. He had to get up early for work

3.My apartment was a mess

4. So was the lady garden

He texted the next day and then called a couple of days later for  a TWO AND A HALF HOUR chat.

Why oh why oh why do you do this boys? Why call, tell me all sorts about your childhood and inner most thoughts, and then not call again for forever?

Sam told me all about how busy his life was, how much work he had on etc and when I asked whether he’d called just to let me know he didn’t have time to see me for months he got really shirty. But I was right. I’m always right. I need to listen to my instincts. That was exactly why he was calling. To tell me he was really busy but to get me just interested enough that I wouldn’t date anyone else until he was ‘ready’ to see me.

Cheeky. Mother. Fucker.

It did work for a little while and then I remembered I’m not a teenager any more and was not falling for that old trick. But he had me interested enough that when I got back from Canada and realised I had to fly back to London (explanation to follow) he was the first person I called. I believe he may have actually cut my call off. Livid. I reasoned he was probably right in the middle of work but it still took him two whole days to call back. By which point I was pissed right off.

Of course his reaction to me leaving was ‘but I really want to see you, can you come down to where I’m working? When are you coming back? You can’t leave! Bla bla bla.’

This really got my back up and I said so. I’d been around for weeks but he’d been too busy, now I was leaving he desperately had to see me. I was quite harsh I’d felt so after the call I texted to say where my leaving drinks would be the following night. He sent a semi-interested message back and so I didn’t invite the lovely Spanish Dave for fear of weird moment etc. What a twat I am.

Sam never turned up. He sent two texts.

1. The first said I had made him feel really small and so he was heading to the country for the weekend.

2. The second said ‘Hey gorgeous, only just finished work so can’t make it but call me as soon as you get back.’

Yep. Pretty sure the first one wasn’t meant for me. So either he was already seeing someone (something he had vehemently denied previously) or he was a bit mental. Either way, however gorgeous, however much of a connection I’d felt, I was over his self-obssessed busy little butt. So there.

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