Diary of a Dater: The New “M”

Pre date vital stats based on online profile and text/phone conversations

Looks: potential 6/10
Personality: 6/10
Banter level: 3/10
Causes for concern: father to a very young child

After only about a week of messaging Robin* asked if he could take me out to dinner. The conversation hadn’t been mind blowing but he had sold himself as ‘an intellectual with a passion for travel and music’ so I was hoping there would be more to him in person. I normally would have turned down this kind of invite but having over spent on bikinis I had pretty much no funds to eat out. A free meal sounded great even if it was under slightly sketchy circumstances.

Things didn’t get off to a great start. Firstly I was promised a ‘dinner date’ which was somehow downgraded to ‘drinks’. Secondly he was late, an unfortunate side effect of dating men of black descent. I’m no lover of suits but what I really hate is an ill-fitting suit, which is exactly what my date was wearing. I’m not even really sure what the cut was supposed to be but it reminded me of those guys with tatty briefcases that try to sell you Victoria Jackson products outside Shepherds Bush station.

Once we got to the bar the conversation was pretty strained, knowing that my belly wasn’t going to be fed gave me little motivation to make an overwhelming effort. Although Robin did look like his pictures he was definitely a more weathered version. Imagine a vase that you’ve broken and subsequently tried to fix with superglue… yep it was like that. Halfway through he decided he was a bit peckish and decided to order a sharing platter. Now my understanding of sharing platters is that their contents are split 50/50 amongst the persons dining. I spotted a delicious chorizo skewer thingy and decided to save the best til last. This was clearly a dating rookie error! As I lift my head from sipping my cocktail I see that Robin is helping himself to the second skewer, MY skewer! This must be a mistake I think to myself, he’ll soon realize the error of his ways and stop… No such luck, he went on to hoover down about 80% of the food leaving me with some limp potatoes and garnish.

To make matters worse as we were leaving I couldn’t shake the feeling that Robin really reminded me of someone. It was the awkward geekiness and lack of spatial awareness and clumsiness. Then it struck me – his mannerisms were exactly the same as my brothers! This date was officially DEAD.

He messaged me later asking to see me again. Just because we’d had a debate about whether Dr. Dre was really a producer or not he’d somehow got the impression that the evening went well. I told him I was busy for the foreseeable future…

Vital post date stats

Looks: 4/10
Personality: 4/10
Banter level: 2/10
Causes for concern: father to a very young son, penchant for charity shop suits, inability to control hunger pangs, a really large booty

Hope I have better luck next time….

Fake ‘M’ xxx

* Names have been changed to protect the identities of the unfortunate souls involved in this encounter

Diary of a Dater: Beijos

A month of no blog posts? What the deuce is going on?

I am sure that you guys are bored of my dating life. No? Well I am. I was so bored of it; I only went and got myself a boyfriend.

Do you like how I made that look effortless? Like I just walked out of the office and pointed my finger in a north-easterly direction and there was my knight pulling up on his steed.

I think you and I both know that really wasn’t the case, but I would appreciate it if you pictured it that way. J

Unsubscribe, delete, and remove all online personas and snuggle up to the new guy and watch Plebs whilst convincing him that Sons of Anarchy and Game of Thrones are the best television shows to be introduced to mankind!

Let this be my sign out.

x Kisses x

In the meantime, look out for a guest blogger that will be taking over my spot in a…less girly way!

Diary of a Dater: Singles Event [Part 2]

Online Event 2

Location: Oxford Street/Regent Street

Day: Monday

Time: Evening

So this time round, we added an extra girlfriend and decided that we were definitely going to make a bit more of an effort talking to people.

The first thing we can say was that the vibe was definitely a lot better, but the crowd was a lot older; well, the women were. -Older and looking like they were not shy to a bit of cosmetic surgery/excess beauty products from the counters at Selfridges.

As I look over my notes from that night, there were only 3 things that I thought were necessary to share with you, my readers.

1)      John. -John was a lovely chap in his 40s, who I guess, pandered to my cheeky attention seeking side! He gave compliments to us and whilst joking around. He even told us who in the venue he fancied, but didn’t give us permission to heckle her when she was talking to other guys!

He did try and get me in trouble by telling everyone who would listen that I worked for The Sun or The Daily Star. Oh John, you jester!

2)      The Freshie. – We spotted him at the beginning of the night and we just knew, without him even coming anywhere near us that he’d just stepped off a boat, or in 2013, perhaps a plane. We were all Londoners, and it was safe to say, this fella, was not our cup of English tea. We managed the majority of the night without him coming over, but the allure of our caramel lovely joining, well, he just couldn’t resist.

Bless our Magpie; she took one for the team. She tried poking and pinching me when I tried to abandon the 3 way conversation we were having. I had nothing to say! Sorry Pie, you gotsta fend for yourself with this one!

Magpie sat down, he sat down. We went outside; suddenly he had to take a call that required him to venture out. We went back inside; he followed us back inside. This is where it got stupid.

What were two 20-something ladies doing RUNNING away from a guy in a bar for?  This was getting ridiculous, Pie sat down for a breather, I was trying to be look out, but there was no time, there was no time to scream. I just looked at her and mouthed RUN! I thought the fear in my eyes and my statue-like state would have given the impression that danger was imminent. I guess not, because there was Freshie, he zoomed on in like a supervillan and jumped into the seat next to Pie. I’m sure if he wasn’t in public, he would tell her how he was going to kill her before doing the dastardly deed.

I ask a random guy to sweep my friend away from this loser, but it turns out said random guy is loser’s mate and promptly tells me to stop “hating”.

BWHAHAHA! AS IF!

Jog on son, with that stupid hat of yours. Little prick.

In the end, Magpie holds her own, she bats Mr Fresh and he is defeated…after 6 “no’s”.

3)      The Fainting Girl. – Whilst recovering from being chased round the bar by a fool, I stop to take a sip of my wine. Suddenly, someone is shouting out saying that someone has fainted. I turn around and see this woman being laid flat out on the table, with people trying to help her. I find myself saying “call 911”. – Apparently, its 999 in the UK. (It didn’t stop me from trying to dial it though…)

The girl was fine by the way, she went down clutching her large glass of white wine, and she came back up still holding it for dear life. She fainted because of how warm it was in the bar. Soon after that, the air-con came on! Nice one bar management, you don’t want a lawsuit.

After another eventful night, I have come to the conclusion that I am not going to find the man of my dreams at a singles event. There were definitely better looking men this time, but after thinking about it a little more, maybe it’s time to just chill out and just relax.

I’ve got Mexico, Cancun coming up at the end of May, it’s time to focus on getting that “beach body” that I won’t get because I don’t exercise and prepping my lungs for all that alcohol I don’t drink, but will because it’s all inclusive once we step on to Mehican soil.

x Kisses Bitches x

Diary of a Dater: Singles Event [Part 1]

What happens when going online to date becomes boring and predictable?

What is the next step after learning that the person you have been speaking to for an unhealthy length of time, turns out to be a catfish?

For me, the next step was to attempt one of those online dating “events”. How hard could it be? I’m a sociable girl…after a few drinks anyway.

Online Event 1

Location: Angel/Islington

Day: Tuesday

Time: Evening.

The girls and I walk through the door of the bar/pub. – All I can see are vaginas, not a man in sight.

The host co-ordinator greets us and explains how it all works.

Basically, it’s a mingle party; the only ice-breaker that you have is in the form of a little card that everyone gets given.

These stupid little cards…

On this, is a picture of something, and if you find the opposite sex that has the matching picture to your card, within the first hour, you can both go up to the bar, hand over your matching cards and you get to have a free drink. Cute, I guess.

The night was a dud. It may have been due to the fact that we didn’t get up from our corner table and were cackling away the whole night. Although, there was one point where the girls thought that “my type” had arrived.

Girls: Mel, he looks like your type.

Me: Why, because he has a barber jacket on? *sarcastic tone*

Girls: Yeah, that and he has hair! *roar of laughter*

Unfortunately, Mr Barber was not for me, when he turned around his eyes gave his true age away and he looked like he had 10 years of beer hidden under his jumper…

It was an absolutely hilarious night, watching the Asian Persuasion duo get bulldozed by Ebony & Ivory. Imagine 2 smarmy guys talking to some average looking women, who clearly are not interested. Then walk over these suited and booted E & I chaps, who just slide into the conversation and oh…oh what’s that? Goodbye Mr and Mr Smarm! (Ebs and Ives went onto to swap numbers with these lovely ladies!)

Although the night was highly unsuccessful for us, because we didn’t actually participate, we were glad that we came and we decided that we definitely would go to the next one if it was going to be this much fun. Oh and we might even mingle next time!

x Kisses x

x Kisses x

Coming soon: Diary of a Dater: Singles Event [Part 2]

Take A Minute

“Sometimes it takes seeing something you don’t want, to show you that the person you could have spent forever with, never saw forever with you.” -Melanie Carlos

Time to move on, for real this time

Diary of a Dater: Omar.

Let me set the scene: The year is 2010. Picture me working on King’s Road as a Manager in a retail store. My shift is over and I walk down towards my bus stop to wait for the 49 bus home.

The bus pulls up, doors open, I head upstairs away from the breeze and sit in the middle on the top deck.

Headphones in and blaring whatever music was popular at the time, I sit there in a world of my own. – All of a sudden, I am being tapped on the shoulder. I turn my head and see this buffoon trying to talk to me when I clearly have my headphones in. WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU WANT?

He starts talking to me and asking me what I do and what am I doing in this part of town. How about none of your business!

He goes on and on and on and ends up asking for my number. At this point in the year, I have 2 phones. A brand new pretty iPhone 3GS and a shitty Blackberry that is on its way out.

Me, being the non-bolshie lady that I am now, I give him the Blackberry number just to get rid of him. –But whilst he is punching my number into his phone, I see that his nails are long. TOO LONG for any male human being to walk around on this earth with. EW!

Well obviously giving him my BB number was a mistake. He actually messaged me a couple of times. I didn’t respond. – That was easy.

A year later, I get upgraded on the BB to an iPhone 4 and someone called “Omar” messages me on WhatsApp. – Who the fuck is Omar?!

I of course advised so called stranger that I do not know an Omar. Bless the little idiot, he tries to convince me that I do know him. The only Omar that I know is Omar Little and you my little fool, are not him. -But I was in no mood to entertain the dirty nailed loser and promptly blocked his number.

If i was a cartoon, yeah. This’d be me. (No relevance to this post btw)

Re-set the scene: The year is 2013, no longer on the Kings Road but in a nice little Head Office in the West of London. I am sitting here with my iPhone 4s, having a good old frustrating time trying to get 3 stars on levels 33, 50 and 65 on Candy Crush and a message comes through on WhatsApp, from OMAR.

Seriously, what the fuck does a girl have to do to make sure that some long nailed creep that pestered me on a BUS, to leave me alone and doesn’t spend 3 fucking years trying to convince me that I know him!?!?!?

Please see below for the type of bullshit that comes from this, Omar. [The messages are shown in image format, so make sure you're on a device that shows the pictures!]

Right, so you’ve read what Omar had to say. Let me provide you with my commentary:

“you alright babe , its omar u how you doing long time b” – EXCUSE ME? Do not call me “B”. I am not Beyoncé nor am I black and yellow and produce honey.

Do not refer to me as “babe”, I don’t know you, nor do I want to know you.

Structure, please. Beginning, middle and end. Your sentence is all over the shop!

Also, when spelling your name, please use a capital letter.

Oh yes, sort your spacing out. Anyone would think you had an old school Blackberry or a flip phone Motorola.

“I met you ages nw , I met u in streatham” -I’m easily irritated, so Omar, decide whether you want to use “u” or “you”.

I met you ages now? What the fuck does that even mean?

Streatham? What on earth would I be doing in Streatham? It was actually Kings Road, you moron, but I suppose you can’t keep a list of all the ladies you chat up on the 49 bus.

“I didn’t phone u in ages” – Really? I didn’t phone you in ages? Apart from the disgusting use of the English language, you’ve never phoned me. How do I know? Because I would never have answered the phone to you. Gross.

“Your somn else” – I can’t take it anymore! I just can’t! What Omar meant to say was “You’re something else” – Now once read in clear English, how the fuck is this illiterate Motorola user telling me I am something else? Get. The. Fuck. Out.

I am here, repeating myself over and over again. I don’t know how else I could say that I am NOT INTERESTED, yet this guy is still trying to talk to me in bastard English and has a “loool” for my every response.

His last lol was the lol that broke the camel’s back. WHY ARE YOU LOL’ING?! You aren’t laughing. You can’t possibly be laughing when I am writing to you, explaining that I don’t know who you are, I don’t care who you are and I would like you to delete my number! Stupid, stupid man boy.

I could see “typing” and I knew that I would lose my cool if I saw one more bit of text from this guy. So block, block and block. Just in time for me to never read a message from Omar again.

I think the next time I get a new phone, I will ask for a new number.

On a lighter note, Tuesday night will see me attending one of those dating website events. A Diary of a D post of course will make it’s way online. Let’s just hope that there is something interesting to write about! – We all love an akward situation when Melanie is on the loose!

Kisses

Drunk Reality

A drunken post, don’t we all love one of those.

Will I forever be “that” girl that is always single? Yep, she’s been in a relationship, but then dumped, but she came out alright at the end of it.

Resign yourself to your fate? Just like those women that have accepted that they will never have an orgasm through penetrative sex?

You have to ask, what the hell is wrong with me that I am 20 something years old and I’ve not managed to maintain a long term relationship with someone who wasn’t a serial cheater or the epitome of a cunt.

Forget about looking for the right kind of boyfriend material, what if I am not girlfriend material?

I date online, I blog about it, I’ve had more than x-amount of sexual partners. What if I genuinely am not what guys are looking for? Single-dom it is. I’m an average looking black girl who is actually Brazilian but is less than a beginner on Portuguese. A good body can only take you so far…especially when you don’t go to the gym for it.

Fuck.