DateFest- Friday- the full filth laden story….

So as I mentioned in my last post I had lined up three dates for Friday night. For the crack, and also because I’d got all sad and sorry for myself the previous week and just needed to go out and remember there are still some good men out there roaming the streets.

So Terrance, Fernando and Gabriel.

Terrance, as I mentioned 37, works as a graphic designer for a MASSIVE shoe designer. Not mentioning any names. We had a drink, talked about all sorts but a couple of times I felt like he took my comments the wrong way. It was easy to chat but not 100% comfortable. He sent me a message on Saturday saying how he’d enjoyed our date and would be up for hanging out again- it was funny and sweet and if I’d fancied him more I would have really loved that message. He made some jokey mention of slutty behaviour (oh how little he knew) I replied to say that I would love to hang out again but although I’d also really enjoyed our date I wasn’t sure there was the chemistry for me and any slutty behaviour.

The ball was in his court and yesterday I had a reply saying ‘thanks for being honest and let’s meet up soon’ I was really pleased, he lives right around the corner and when you just want a friend to go and drink tea with (he loves tea) it’s great to have a handsome, although short, pal.

So after heading home to remove my teenage nail polish job I went back out to meet date #2.

Fernando, 30 NOT Italian but actually from Brazil. I would like to point out here that I’m not retarded but simply was confusing him with another dark handsome man….

Attractiveness 9

Eligibility 5 (really not sure about this yet… will update y’all later)

GSOH 8 (laughed at all my jokes)

Did I actually fancy him? God, yes!

We had arranged to meet outside the subway station as I’d suggested a couple of places and then we’d rearranged and in the end I was a bit confused (yep, pattern emerging) so the station it was. The station that had 4 different exits.

So there I was shivering my arse off outside one at 9pm and he was clearly at another when some friends came past. The same friends that got me drunk before I went out with Bryan on Wednesday- more about Bryan later. They guessed I was waiting for a date and all decided my date was the man who was hovering behind me. I’d already checked him out and he looked nothing like the pictures online so I was hoping very much he wasn’t my date. His trousers were too short.

The guys carried on up the road to a local very friendly bar and I gave Fernando 10 more minutes before I followed them.

The pictures on his profile showed this very buff guy with big arms and a cute dark-eyed and haired look- exactly the type I like. But I hate to be cold and I hate to wait (yes, I realise that I’m bloody late everywhere, but it’s a disease you know.)

A short dark elf girl turned up to meet the hovering guy with the short trousers, and whilst I sighed a big ol’ sigh of relief, I did think ‘well at least she got a date’……

I luckily was standing outside a Dunkin Donuts so I popped in for a quick cup of tea and a Boston creme  doughnut, which I then ate really quickly in case this buff man turned up and saw me wolfing such unhealthy crap. I’d sent a quick message online to say where I was. I have this rule that I never give out my personal mobile number or my personal email address to anyone before we meet. Sometimes I think it’s a pain to have to log onto the site and leave a message instead of just calling someone, but I’ve had some weirdos in the past and as much as I’d love to think I’m interesting enough to stalk….. I don’t want a real life one…

So in he walks finally (well only 20 mins late) and my God is he hot! Not overly tall but very well-shaped and very smiley, apologising for having been waiting at the wrong stop. Not his fault at all, more like my fault for not specifying. His photos had shown him to be handsome but he was not really smiling in any of them, so he looked sort of hard and like he took himself a bit too seriously.

In reality he was funny, warm, kind and didn’t take anything seriously at all. I thought the language barrier would be a problem but he spoke very good English with a sexy Brazilian accent and as I mentioned, laughed at all my jokes.

We went to a restaurant/bar and shared some food and a bottle of wine. For the foodies it was bla bla bla and whatever whatever whatever. It was simply delicious. I’d whole-heartedly recommend it.

We talked about all sorts but in-depth about visas as I now spend a lot of time when meeting new people grilling them about their right to stay in the USA. I’m utterly offended that so far I haven’t been welcomed with open arms. Who else is going to come and spend every penny they earn on tea, cake and vintage jewellery?

After an hour or so Fernando suggested I marry him for a visa. Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?!

INTERVAL- I’m online on the website whilst I write this, and have just seen a profile where LOL came at the end of every sentence and he also wrote under food he likes ‘making my own love to bbq’. Ah the specialness of a profile minus punctuation….

So yes, back to Fernando and I, deep in conversation across a candlelit table. I can’t really remember how it happened but we ended up snogging passionately for some time. The entire restaurant emptied and there were a few people at the bar but I think we may have out-stayed our welcome. Fernando paid (as do the majority of men here- it’s very nice but also a little disconcerting to a woman who has always had shite boyfriends and paid, if not half then, the whole bill herself. Do I owe them a snog at least for this? It’s a tricky question eh?)

Not that I felt in any way that it would be some sort of chore to show my gratitude to the delicious Fernando. We headed off up to the exact same bar I’d thought of skipping off to with my friends earlier. Luckily they had left as we seriously couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I’m sure if the rest of the people in the bar hadn’t been as hammered they would have found our PDAs quite repulsive.

 

Dirty bar the next (very bright) afternoon

 

 

Oh, I forgot to mention the tattoo! All down his left arm Fernando is working on the most amazing tattoo which is a sort of dragon with lots of scales- some of which turn into flowers. I bloody love tattoos- especially on muscley brown skin like his. I remember spending a long time tracing the outline of his tattoo and probably drooling at this point. His skin was unbelievably soft but his hands were callused from lifting weights. Now I’d rather his hands were rough from chopping wood or something equally as manly but y’know, beggars can’t be choosers.

I can’t really remember a lot of what was talked about. I remember he had a brother, who had a dog called Miles. They are working on a book together. Fernando and his brother Pedro, not Pedro and Miles the dog.

I do remember saying, probably with eyes and words crossed, that if this just going to be a one night thing then we should just head back to his straight away. Not because I didn’t like him but purely because I like to be honest and expect it from others. He was hot and also young, I am certainly under no illusions that this is the type of man who really wants to settle down. He said that he wanted me to be his girlfriend, at this drunken point I think I agreed that would be a very good idea.

We then talked for a while about what we would do to each other when sober- which culminated in him trying to make me go downstairs to the toilets to show him exactly what I meant. And I probably would have had I not needed to actually use the toilet so much at this point….. It was one of those occasions that once your business has been done, you leave: quick smart.

I was a little put out with the amount of times he tried to put his hand right up my dress and then after I’d stopped him doing that he kept trying to put his hand down my bra, and it went around like that for a while, until he decided that kissing my neck and right shoulder were a better idea, in a True Blood style.

We tumbled out of the bar at 4am. Luckily it is very close to where I live, otherwise I may have slept right there on the street.

We hung around on my doorstep, his beard destroying my chin, my hand down his trousers ( yes girls, more Rock than Pop or Disco) and his hand up my dress. After a little while he motioned for me to follow him somewhere away from ‘the cops’- which made me laugh. All my promises of waiting until we were sober went straight out of the window as I opened the door into my buildings hallway.

Now I don’t know about you British kids but whatever thoughts you may have about New York hallways please put them aside. There is nothing cool, glamorous or shiny about this hallway. It basically looks like a squat. The paint is peeling off the ceiling, the floor hasn’t been cleaned for years and the walls are slimy. Perfect eh? Please see picture below.

 

WARNING- Brothers do not read further unless you want to feel a little sick.

Yes, so in my very, very, very (yes, I’m making the only excuse I have) drunk state I got on my knees on sucked some Brazilian cock. It’s not like it’s something I’ve never done before but the location was reaching an all time low…. (bollocks- I’ve shagged behind bins before, I need to stop pretending I’ve turned over a new leaf). So after a bit of that he pulled me to my feet and started the drunken man’s attempt at pleasuring a woman. This involves placing one hand between the woman’s legs and then moving your hand around like you are sandpapering a particularly rough piece of wood. I can’t remember a time I have enjoyed this move but it seems it’s within most men’s repertoire, even with honest women like me knocking around telling them with no room for misunderstanding ‘ow! that hurts! and it does fuck all for me’ the message does not seem to be getting through. Anyway, I digress, back to the hallway. So I ended up face planted against the aforementioned slimy wall, knickers round ankles, being taken from behind by a tattooed, muscled Brazilian called Fernando and I’m not going to say I didn’t enjoy it.

I pretty much sent him on his way after this. It’s been a while since I’ve seen 4.30am on a Saturday morning, my curfew is usually no later than 1am and that’s pushing it.

I think the thing that most worried me when I awoke the next day was the four people who could possibly have found me with my knickers round my ankles were

1.The Neighbour (very embarrassing but she may have seen the funny side of it)

2. Mrs Lovebird- my sister-in-law (so NOT what she wants to see of the woman currently entrusted to look after her son)

3. The Owner (probably would have loved it but it may have raised the rent if he thought I was using the hallway for extra-curricular activities) or

4. Mr Lovebird- my brother (I realise all women with brothers will understand this but if you don’t have one- seriously it would be HIDEOUS)

I was also concerned with the red beard rash stretching across my chin and the love bites I had on my neck and shoulder. Yep- I felt classy. I hate love bites- nothing worse, but now I do see how they happen. White wine.

But this does mean that the drought is once again over. If only I could really remember it……….

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Holly
    Apr 19, 2012 @ 14:28:32

    I’m glad someone’s getting some! good work, keep writing!

    Reply

  2. Holly
    Apr 19, 2012 @ 14:28:59

    And also, what happened to Gabriel?

    Reply

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