14 July
I’ve just slept with Jewish.
We did it in his sitting room after we went out for dinner. We are good together. I feel uncomfortable as after the act he asked if I wanted to stay. I didn’t realise going home was an option under the circumstances.
‘I know you don’t like getting up early and I do.’ Is he trying to get rid of me now he’s got what he wanted?
I met him after work and we went for drinks then dinner at Dim t on Charlotte Street. I paid. I offered. He said ‘no’. I said ‘yes’ and he accepted. I didn’t want him to. He did say afterwards ‘Thank you. I feel very spoilt.’ I’ll give him that as perhaps he felt I really did.
He told me he was no longer on the site. Or rather, he had not renewed his subscription so his profile is not active. Does he want me to come off but is too shy to say?
‘Do you get messages every day?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
He asked about my flat.
‘I may have some tenants.’
‘When will they move in?’
The eighth.’
‘Three weeks?’ I nod.
‘I’ve just taken my profile off and she’s going away in three weeks,’ he said. He does like me!
I had other indicators throughout the evening that he likes me. I know making comments implying he sees some kind of future with you is standard operating procedure for players but I want to believe it’s true. I’m still dubious.
One of the first things he said to me this evening was ‘Did you miss me?’ The Entrepreneur wouldn’t have said something like that. Pashmina would.
‘You’re not going to make me fat?’ he said when I wanted to go for dinner in the first place. I love having a boyfriend who is also conscious of his weight. It’s so frustrating when they are constantly encouraging you, either wittingly or unwittingly (by ordering delicious, calorie packed food) to eat more.
I pointed out my uneven arms. I’m left handed and my left upper arm is bigger. Apparently, according to Daniel, this isn’t unusual. Jewish finds this hilarious.
‘When I introduce you to people I’ll say ‘You must check out her arms!’”
We spoke about TV and Celebrity Big Brother came up.
‘I would have second thoughts about marriage if Jackie Stallone is the mother in law. Now you’re going to tell me Jackie Stallone is your mother!’
I told him about The Pick Up Artist, one of my favourite reality shows, on MTV.
‘They’ve even brought a book out.’
‘You can get me that for Christmas,’ he said.
Yes… No!’
‘Seeing if you’d go for it!’
He didn’t encourage me to drink. Normally men who try and take advantage do so this must be a good thing.
He notices everything. Nothing gets past him. It’s quite fun trying to. Two tall, dark thin men walked into Dim t. I went on my first date with The Entrepreneur on Charlotte Street. Briefly think they’re him. They’re not. Jewish follows my eyeline whenever I’m checking someone out whether male or female. He does the same with a couple of women I also briefly look at. Phew. Perhaps he won’t think I was checking the men out either.
He suggested we go and see Bruno together – he went to school with Sacha Baron Cohen – and have the M&S meal deal together (canny Jew!).
He’s aware of the cost of everything and values a pound note. He listed the cost of ingredients he bought to make eggs Benedict and for a car share scheme he may join. This could p*** some girls off but I am exactly the same. I think we are compatible on a number of levels.
He constantly kisses me, picks me up, links arms with me or holds my hand.
Maybe his prior shenanigans of not responding to texts immediately and general sloppiness were because he wasn’t sure if I liked him. Maybe he was playing hard to get. Maybe he was annoyed with me. Maybe.
I stay.
He kisses, cuddles and spoons me all night. I feel comfortable. But it could be a whole new ball game tomorrow.
13 July
Just as I’m resigning myself to the fact he isn’t going to call back a text comes him. Good lad.
‘Hi babes. Sorry I didn’t back to you yest. Was out. Did you have a good week and weekend? Seems ages ago when I saw you last. When do you fancy meeting up? X’
‘With friends‘? Hmm.
12 July
Right, the girls have decided I must call Jewish as I said I would.
‘Set the precedent,’ Denise advised. ‘Then you are woman of your word. He will have to follow suit.’
I call but it goes to voicemail.
‘Hi… It’s Rebecca. I hope you’re well and having a good weekend and… um… well I guess we’ll speak next week. Bye.’
I don’t think he wanted to take the call. I don’t even think I’m going to get a call back. He’s lost the groove. To be fair so have I.
11 July
‘Hey, how did the day’s filming go yesterday? Fun? I’m just back from an all-day red wine, roast, more red wine and scrabble frenzy (weird, but that’s my odd friends for you) at my favourite gastro pub. How’s your weekend looking? I’m still smiling at your strange-but-endearing Phantom obsession.’
It’s Strictly Come Dancing. Ah yes. My ‘dirty secret’ admission. I love Phantom of the Opera! Well, he’s into Scrabble. OK mine does trump his on the naff factor but hey. And what is he doing texting me on a Saturday night? Doesn’t he know that’s uncool too? Even uncooler, he follows this odd, extremely long-wouldn’t-it-have-been-better-to-have-just-called text with another extremely long-wouldn’t-it-have-been-better-to-have-just-called text.
‘Ps. I checked out the Will + Grace episode you’d have missed yesterday – a repeat so I guesssed you’d have seen it already so didn’t forward you the link. Pesky repeats. Pesky not enough laura san giacomo.’
What the f*** does that mean? Really, I should text with a nice, non ego bruising thanks-but-no-thanks but I can’t be arsed.
9 July (part 3)
‘I guessed something wasnt right – although that didnt take too much intelligence !
I’ll drop you line in a few weeks time – would be nice to stay in touch if nothing else.’
He’s not giving up is he? A touch of injured pride mixed with arrogance. I could say ‘regret’ but I think that would be feeding my delusions of grandeur again. Funny. As he’s being so light and easy I may see him again if he gets in touch. Jewish is being an arsehole so why not?
9 July (part 2)
I’m sitting across the table having lunch with the skinny gay judge on Strictly Come Dancing. At least that’s who he looks and sounds like. He didn’t come across like that during my screening call.
He’s fun, entertaining and makes me laugh. He’s another from the broadsheet dating site. An advertising guru. And he’s stylish. But, not good looking, has a receding hairline and, I can spot this a mile off for obvious reasons, has some kind of eating disorder. He is super skinny. Well he goes to the gym every day and wants to be ‘thin’. He gets up at 5.15am in order to fit this in.
‘What do you do?’ I ask.
‘Cardio every day except for Tuesdays and Thursday when I work on abs.’
‘Every day? Wow.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Don’t you do weights?’
‘No, I’m not built for that. Too slim…’
‘Well, you wouldn’t be if you cut down on the cardio!’ (I may or may not have said this out loud.)
Is he nuts? When did men start aspiring to be ‘thin’? My second in recent months. The first was The Arab. And when did men start having eating disorders? High acheivers. It’s in the blood. Don’t feel good enough. He is. But not for me.
He must be coked up. A bit early, it’s only midday, even for an ad guy for this kind of shenangians surely? He’s rambling ten to the dozen and makes reference to various characters, in his various funny anecdotes ‘speeding of their face’. As only the drugged up do.
A corker, although not overtly drug related, was his being propositioned by a huge African woman in a green ball gown on the tube.
‘What did she say?’ I ask.
‘It’s not what she said. It was a gesture.’
‘Oh my God! What?’
‘Umm… no… maybe another time.’
‘No! What did she do?’
He pushes his tongue back in forth into the side of his cheek whilst motioning rubbing notes together in his hand. I laugh hysterically. It’s so funny!
‘In true British style I said “Thank you very much but I’ve got this barbecue to go to…”‘
I laugh loudly again.
‘She asked if I would take her out for dinner later… said “I’ll pay. I have money”‘.
‘What was the point? Surely she should have wanted you to pay.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did anyone see?’
‘The whole carriage was trying not to laugh out loud. All I could see was their shoulders shaking up and down.’
We are in a lovely tapas restaurant in London Bridge. He is very entertaining. He also has spinach on his teeth. I don’t tell him. I’m monitoring it. Hoping it will naturally be consumed as he eats other dishes. Phew, it’s gone. I just hate that. I have a special peppercorn-slash-sesame-seed catcher between my two front teeth so spend all dinner dates sucking my teeth and praying it’s clear.
Even if I wanted to I couldn’t have sex with him. I’d snap him in half. I find it useful to think in these terms. He told me his female friends screen his potentials.
‘I should do that! My male friends give the best advice. The girls want me to give the benefit of the doubt.’
‘What, do you go for the same type?’
‘Ooh, I don’t know. Do I go for a type?’
‘Well, obviously not slackers!’
‘No!’
I then give him a small example of when boys got it spot on. The Entrepreneur not wanting to spend the whole weekend with me. The boys said straight away he was out with another girl.
‘Anyone out with you should be playing their A-game.’ Oh. If only he weren’t anorexic, ugly and gay. He’d be perfect.
Rule 28: Can you picture yourself having sex with your date? If not, think twice about seeing him again. Chemistry is required for successful relationships on all levels.
About
‘When I grow up I’m going to marry a prince, Granny.’
Fast forward 27 years. I’m a hot, successful, kind and affectionate, officially ‘grown up’ girl-about-town. Still in search of The One. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m in bed. Alone. Tanked up on Valium.
The quest has been active now for the best part of 20 years. I know he’s out there. I just need to find out where and how to find him. Things have got to change.
2009 is going to be my year. I just know it. So I have decided to document my experiences to amuse more than anything else. In so doing, the creative process may provide some kind of personal enlightenment and help face my demons too. And who knows. The journey may lead me to my prince. And where the chronicles begin.
