We've had a few complaints recently about the lack of update on 'Sisters'. In December the silly season just took over and in London the silly season really is quite ridiculous. With office parties, friends’ parties and more parties with my charity panto buddies, the days just flew by in a haze of drunken nights and hellish hangovers. But I expect that the real reason for our lack of attention is that Sister Bridget and I have been otherwise engaged. We have each been busy with the nearest thing you could call ‘having a boyfriend'. And I haven’t known what to write, because leaving my single status behind, is like ripping a security blanket off a small child. I am dazed, walking around in a sea of contradictions, my Libran scales are swaying dangerously off balance and whatever I write could be completely wrong tomorrow. I am, to use my new favourite word, discombobulated.
We met on the internet, which apparently is no longer solely the hunting ground of the slightly silvery haired, slightly smutty, married man seeking sex. In fact 3.5 million of the 6 million singletons in the UK are doing it. That’s one hell of a party. So I suppose it was inevitable that eventually someone would pop into my inbox that would cause me to pause mid-mouthful of toast, click eagerly on the ‘profile’ button and devour every word his friend had written about him - thrice.
At this point he had just added me to his ‘favourites’ but not actually contacted me. I reciprocated by dropping him into mine and I waited. With no response forthcoming after a week, I contacted him. We had lift off. His first email made me laugh out loud, the first phone call lasted an hour, the first date until 2am on a school night! I am permanently exhausted because we both suffer from verbal diarrhoea which means we do not stop chit-chatting until the early hours of the morning whether in person or on the phone. In the past, my dating routine has involved spotting someone in a bar; ticking a few boxes… fit √, fit √, fit √, slamming a few margaritas down my neck and then batting my eyelashes. It’s based purely on a primeval instinct. Internet dating is much more of a scientific art. Had his first email not been intelligent, witty and obscure he would not have lasted. In internet dating, a simple “Alright love, fancy a drink?” gets swiftly deposited in the recycle bin… never to be recycled. So our personalities match…and the rest…well it’s different, rather than a roaring log fire, it’s a small flame starting to dance.
Our apparent ease with chatting and our combined passion of red wine has meant that I have committed every faux pas possible in dating rules. I don’t remember much of Sunday…but I know that our joint achievement includes being asked to leave a restaurant three times because we were, ahem, slightly tipsy and he tells me that my sole achievements that day are telling him I love him (cringe) and worse telling him that I’m not sure I believe in marriage anymore but that if he wants to propose in two years time I’ll consider it… (oh yes – good huh?!). My other indiscretions are pretty much unmentionable, albeit to say that as he has yet to frequent my bed, it is probably best not to discuss with him the merits of the Platinum Rabbit.
In conclusion however, I have to say that no-one has ever known so much about me at such an early stage in a relationship and yet still seem, well, pretty into me really. I have a head full of confusing thoughts; and I’m missing my single status security blanket…but for some reason, I think it might be time to try life without it.
We met on the internet, which apparently is no longer solely the hunting ground of the slightly silvery haired, slightly smutty, married man seeking sex. In fact 3.5 million of the 6 million singletons in the UK are doing it. That’s one hell of a party. So I suppose it was inevitable that eventually someone would pop into my inbox that would cause me to pause mid-mouthful of toast, click eagerly on the ‘profile’ button and devour every word his friend had written about him - thrice.
At this point he had just added me to his ‘favourites’ but not actually contacted me. I reciprocated by dropping him into mine and I waited. With no response forthcoming after a week, I contacted him. We had lift off. His first email made me laugh out loud, the first phone call lasted an hour, the first date until 2am on a school night! I am permanently exhausted because we both suffer from verbal diarrhoea which means we do not stop chit-chatting until the early hours of the morning whether in person or on the phone. In the past, my dating routine has involved spotting someone in a bar; ticking a few boxes… fit √, fit √, fit √, slamming a few margaritas down my neck and then batting my eyelashes. It’s based purely on a primeval instinct. Internet dating is much more of a scientific art. Had his first email not been intelligent, witty and obscure he would not have lasted. In internet dating, a simple “Alright love, fancy a drink?” gets swiftly deposited in the recycle bin… never to be recycled. So our personalities match…and the rest…well it’s different, rather than a roaring log fire, it’s a small flame starting to dance.
Our apparent ease with chatting and our combined passion of red wine has meant that I have committed every faux pas possible in dating rules. I don’t remember much of Sunday…but I know that our joint achievement includes being asked to leave a restaurant three times because we were, ahem, slightly tipsy and he tells me that my sole achievements that day are telling him I love him (cringe) and worse telling him that I’m not sure I believe in marriage anymore but that if he wants to propose in two years time I’ll consider it… (oh yes – good huh?!). My other indiscretions are pretty much unmentionable, albeit to say that as he has yet to frequent my bed, it is probably best not to discuss with him the merits of the Platinum Rabbit.
In conclusion however, I have to say that no-one has ever known so much about me at such an early stage in a relationship and yet still seem, well, pretty into me really. I have a head full of confusing thoughts; and I’m missing my single status security blanket…but for some reason, I think it might be time to try life without it.
5 comments:
Ha ha!! Louise this is hilarious!! I don't know why we spend so much time reading the self help books and eagerly watching Sex and the City to improve our dating skills if you're just going to blow it all by getting drunk and breaking every rule in the book!! But good for you, sounds like you're having fun. I too, am missing my single 'blanket' and trying out life without it. All this time spent moaning about wanting a man and as soon as we get one we moan about what we might now be missing out on! Glad the blog is back in business and i promise to get out my pen and start scribbling something soon too (and by that I mean laptop and typing!!) Love ya Bx
Um...self help books?! Speak for yourself Bridget! :-) x
Evidently I am!! x
That talking can be a problem. I remember when Mrs Albion and I started going out - we'd be lying there in bed at 2am, chat, chat, chatting away until finally one of us would say, "Oh for God's sake, shut up - I have to work in the morning."
Then, of course, the other would say something like, "You won't believe what XXX said at work last week..." and then it would be two thirty and someone would say, "Oh, for God's sake, shut up..."
Damian, that made me chuckle! After yet another 2am chit-chat session, I am yet again struggling through work...can't wait until we start getting slightly bored with eachother!!!
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