Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Day minus-4
Yesterday was a big day out. We did the london tourist thing, which is always fun for a ex-Pat
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Day minus-6
So, the big night out...
After a lovely day walking around burough market sampling the delights (the secret is not to eat meals on days you go to Burough market. There is no need) we headed home for dinner and champagne. I got the distinct impression that my visiting friend and I were the only ones really up for a proper night out - my flatmate was hung over (but putting on a brave face) and others were just not as 'chipper' as usual. It didn't matter, she and I would more than make up for the lacking in others... "Canadian girls gone wild" as she put it so eloquently ;-)
We headed to The Lamb and Flag in Covent Market, met up with everyone, had a few drinks and then headed to the club. Guanabara was the destination, and we purposely got there early to avoid the queue.
No such luck.
After doing my usual thing of trying to win over the doorman with my charm and wit, I retreated back to where everyone else in our party was waiting patiently. It was of course at this point that all the champagne, redbull-vodka and G&Ts from earlier hit my bladder, and I had to scamper out of the line to find an accomodating pub. During this adventure I got the fantastic idea of buying drinks to have in line! So Flatmate and Visiting Friend and I took orders and pranced in to an off-license. As we discreetly (or not so discreetly) drank our coronas in line, I took a shine to the sweater on the guy in front of me. He was an unknown part of our party (in that he had been invited by someone else but wasn't known by me). His sweater was the softest thing EVER. I don't know if it was angora, or cashmere, or what, but it was divine. I proceeded to stroke and pet him like some sort of labrador, then called the Visiting Friend over to experience it. He was very tolerant and accomodating. But then, he had two pretty girls stroking his body, so I guess he would be. Later in the night his sweater came off and he was presented to me to stroke again. I took one feel of his cotton t-shirt and dismissed him. It just wasn't the same.
In the meantime Visiting Friend and I were running rampent in the bar. We got on the tequila (they were serving it in cups. Cups!) and on the dancefloor. The band was amazing. 12-15 piece Brazilian samba band, who never stopped. At one point a girl from the dancefloor jumped up on stage and put on a show of a lifetime. Every bit of her was shaking and jiggling to beat of the music. She was too sexy for words. When she got off the stage, Visiting Friend and I praised her and clasped hands with her, to show her how much we appreciated her talent! She was fabulous.
It was interesting in the bar because the music was hip and cool, and you'd expect the clientele to be of a certain sort. But it was a meat market! I had expected more women than men, because don't women enjoy samba and such so much more? But from the moment we walked in the guys were on us like white on rice. For the purposes of taking my mind off the dark countdown, it was perfect. Unfortunately Visiting Friend and I agreed the next day that there was just too much choice. Everytime one boy was talking to me, I would catch sight of another one, and move on. I just wasn't willing to commit any decent amount of time to one particular boy.
Near the end of the night we did stumble across a great find. We were at the bar, probably ordering more tequilas, and we noticed a most dapper man beside us. His hair was amazing - a cross between afro and short dreads - and he was wearing a fantastic grey suit and black scarf. He was hands-down the best dressed gent in the place. So of course Visiting Friend and I were all over his great suit like a cheap suit - praising him and stroking and patting. We adopted him as our pet and he was most content. He took my number with a promise that we would all meet up again in the week. In the morning light neither Visiting Friend nor I can remember if he was really nice and fun, or just well-dressed... But we shall find out!
The only truly inappropriate behaviour occured as we were trying to find a cab outside the place. Mr.C had joined in on the celebrations in his new capacity as 'friend', and of course I - in my drunken state - thought it would be a good idea to try to regress. He told me gently, but firmly, that he was 'not going to kiss' me. So I trotted off down the street to collect Visiting Friend and didn't look back. I did feel bad about it later, as it's not fun having to reject someone you seriously thought was down with the 'friend' vibe (Which I was before the 5th tequila and the end of the night). I spoke to him later and sorted it out, but also realised that hanging out with him was a tricky business... I couldn't trust myself not to behave when in a proper 'going out' setting, and rejection gets old fast, so it would probably be for the best if I didn't continue seeing him. He wasn't happy with this solution, but a gal's got to do what's best for her, so that's that.
Besides that minor blip, the night was excellent. Visiting Friend had a great time, and particularly loved when people asked 'so how long have you been in England?' and she could answer 'one day'. She found that very amusing :-) She also got her ride in a black cab, but by then we were both too drunk to remember it. Ah well, they'll be other nights!
Poor thing now has the long-haul cold, so we're taking it easy today.
MissA.x
After a lovely day walking around burough market sampling the delights (the secret is not to eat meals on days you go to Burough market. There is no need) we headed home for dinner and champagne. I got the distinct impression that my visiting friend and I were the only ones really up for a proper night out - my flatmate was hung over (but putting on a brave face) and others were just not as 'chipper' as usual. It didn't matter, she and I would more than make up for the lacking in others... "Canadian girls gone wild" as she put it so eloquently ;-)
We headed to The Lamb and Flag in Covent Market, met up with everyone, had a few drinks and then headed to the club. Guanabara was the destination, and we purposely got there early to avoid the queue.
No such luck.
After doing my usual thing of trying to win over the doorman with my charm and wit, I retreated back to where everyone else in our party was waiting patiently. It was of course at this point that all the champagne, redbull-vodka and G&Ts from earlier hit my bladder, and I had to scamper out of the line to find an accomodating pub. During this adventure I got the fantastic idea of buying drinks to have in line! So Flatmate and Visiting Friend and I took orders and pranced in to an off-license. As we discreetly (or not so discreetly) drank our coronas in line, I took a shine to the sweater on the guy in front of me. He was an unknown part of our party (in that he had been invited by someone else but wasn't known by me). His sweater was the softest thing EVER. I don't know if it was angora, or cashmere, or what, but it was divine. I proceeded to stroke and pet him like some sort of labrador, then called the Visiting Friend over to experience it. He was very tolerant and accomodating. But then, he had two pretty girls stroking his body, so I guess he would be. Later in the night his sweater came off and he was presented to me to stroke again. I took one feel of his cotton t-shirt and dismissed him. It just wasn't the same.
In the meantime Visiting Friend and I were running rampent in the bar. We got on the tequila (they were serving it in cups. Cups!) and on the dancefloor. The band was amazing. 12-15 piece Brazilian samba band, who never stopped. At one point a girl from the dancefloor jumped up on stage and put on a show of a lifetime. Every bit of her was shaking and jiggling to beat of the music. She was too sexy for words. When she got off the stage, Visiting Friend and I praised her and clasped hands with her, to show her how much we appreciated her talent! She was fabulous.
It was interesting in the bar because the music was hip and cool, and you'd expect the clientele to be of a certain sort. But it was a meat market! I had expected more women than men, because don't women enjoy samba and such so much more? But from the moment we walked in the guys were on us like white on rice. For the purposes of taking my mind off the dark countdown, it was perfect. Unfortunately Visiting Friend and I agreed the next day that there was just too much choice. Everytime one boy was talking to me, I would catch sight of another one, and move on. I just wasn't willing to commit any decent amount of time to one particular boy.
Near the end of the night we did stumble across a great find. We were at the bar, probably ordering more tequilas, and we noticed a most dapper man beside us. His hair was amazing - a cross between afro and short dreads - and he was wearing a fantastic grey suit and black scarf. He was hands-down the best dressed gent in the place. So of course Visiting Friend and I were all over his great suit like a cheap suit - praising him and stroking and patting. We adopted him as our pet and he was most content. He took my number with a promise that we would all meet up again in the week. In the morning light neither Visiting Friend nor I can remember if he was really nice and fun, or just well-dressed... But we shall find out!
The only truly inappropriate behaviour occured as we were trying to find a cab outside the place. Mr.C had joined in on the celebrations in his new capacity as 'friend', and of course I - in my drunken state - thought it would be a good idea to try to regress. He told me gently, but firmly, that he was 'not going to kiss' me. So I trotted off down the street to collect Visiting Friend and didn't look back. I did feel bad about it later, as it's not fun having to reject someone you seriously thought was down with the 'friend' vibe (Which I was before the 5th tequila and the end of the night). I spoke to him later and sorted it out, but also realised that hanging out with him was a tricky business... I couldn't trust myself not to behave when in a proper 'going out' setting, and rejection gets old fast, so it would probably be for the best if I didn't continue seeing him. He wasn't happy with this solution, but a gal's got to do what's best for her, so that's that.
Besides that minor blip, the night was excellent. Visiting Friend had a great time, and particularly loved when people asked 'so how long have you been in England?' and she could answer 'one day'. She found that very amusing :-) She also got her ride in a black cab, but by then we were both too drunk to remember it. Ah well, they'll be other nights!
Poor thing now has the long-haul cold, so we're taking it easy today.
MissA.x
Friday, October 3, 2008
Day minus-8
My friend has arrived!! And it is the first day of my two week holiday!!! Hurrah!!
She's jetlagged, and I had a rather late night last night, so today has been nothing but driving, napping and eating. Now sitting watching Son of Ranbow. What a great film!
Tomorrow night is a big one. Lot of people, cocktails and brazilian dancing... plenty of opportunity to behave inappropriately :-)
She's jetlagged, and I had a rather late night last night, so today has been nothing but driving, napping and eating. Now sitting watching Son of Ranbow. What a great film!
Tomorrow night is a big one. Lot of people, cocktails and brazilian dancing... plenty of opportunity to behave inappropriately :-)
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Day minus-9
Tonight I will be taking my mind off the impending doom with a bit o' burlesque. For those of you who do not know me, I love burlesque. Any excuse to get the corset out and the stockings on! Halloween party - burlesque; themed costume party (even if the theme is super heros) - burlesque.
I haven't been able to see the Young One (24 yr old who looks 18) in over a week due to work and inappropriate behaviour. He is sad. So I am taking him to a burlesque book launch in Notting Hill. It is in aid of breast cancer, and there will be authors reading from their erotic novels, etc (!!) I assume there will also be free food and wine, which is what I am going there for of course ;-)
The Young One is supposed to be my secret pet. I did not plan to introduce him to anyone, or even speak of him except in code. Unfortunately, he will be brought out of hiding tonight as two of my friends want to join in on the erotic fun. I am uncomfortable at the prospect.
I am curious where this embarrassment comes from... Why am I ashamed to be dating someone quite a bit younger? Does anyone really care?
Short post. Must be off!
MissA.x
I haven't been able to see the Young One (24 yr old who looks 18) in over a week due to work and inappropriate behaviour. He is sad. So I am taking him to a burlesque book launch in Notting Hill. It is in aid of breast cancer, and there will be authors reading from their erotic novels, etc (!!) I assume there will also be free food and wine, which is what I am going there for of course ;-)
The Young One is supposed to be my secret pet. I did not plan to introduce him to anyone, or even speak of him except in code. Unfortunately, he will be brought out of hiding tonight as two of my friends want to join in on the erotic fun. I am uncomfortable at the prospect.
I am curious where this embarrassment comes from... Why am I ashamed to be dating someone quite a bit younger? Does anyone really care?
Short post. Must be off!
MissA.x
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Day minus-10
Well rather disappointingly I behaved completely appropriately last night. I met up with the boy (In traditional blog fashion I shall give him a ridiculous pseudonym to protect his privacy... MattCartert07925673458, or Mr.C for short. There) So I met up with Mr C and we wandered around Soho looking for a place to eat. It was 8pm and nowhere was serving food! Now this is very odd to me... Do the kind of people who work in Soho actually leave work at 5pm?? Or perhaps they do not eat?! I am intrigued by this, please Soho-types enlighten me as to why you do not need food after 8pm at night.
We finally found somewhere that from the outside looked really cool (due to tricky tinted glass) and on the inside was basically a cafeteria. No matter, it served food and wine. Brilliant.
It's funny when you date someone for a few months, and you have a great connection and you have that smug feeling you know them so well, and then you break up and in one night as 'friends' you find out more about them then you did in all those months sharing their bed.
As you can probably gather, Mr.C surprised me last night. Perhaps boys are more comfortable letting you in on personal experiences as "friends", perhaps he had a bit more wine than usual... whatever the reason, it was really nice.
The story of me and Mr.C goes thus (stop me if you've heard this one before): He was supposed to be a rebound off a particularly emotionally draining, dramatic 2 year stint with a Troubled Boy. The rebound plan got shot to hell when I fell head over heels for him. How inconsiderate of him to cause such a divergence from a winning formula. Needless to say, Troubled Boy had left me with more baggage than the BA lost and found, and alas my blossoming relationship was not immune. After a few months of greatness, things crumbled and I was left holding some more lovely designer bags and a broken heart.
I couldn't look at him for the next six months without wanting to cry or claw desperately at his receding coat tails (no, no, it wasn't really like that. What guy wears coat tails on a regular basis?). So funnily enough we didn't speak much. That was well over a year and several not-quite-the-same relationships ago. I got past it, and I suddenly find myself with a great friend. Maybe not the Disney fairy tale ending us ladies are programmed to desire, but I'll take my consolation prize like a champ.
Besides, he has promised to set me up with one of his many single friends.
Result.
So that was day minus-11. Apologies there is nothing more lurid to report. I'll work harder next time.
As for tonight, I'm off to play table football in Shoreditch. I shouldn't be going; the flat is a mess and I need to get everything ready for my best friend's arrival from the colony (!!!) It's her first trip over the Atlantic, and I can barely contain my excitement. I am wiggling uncontrollably in my excitement, like a sack full of wiggling puppies. She is coming specifically to help me through this dark countdown. What a lovely, lovely girl.
Off to kick some serious TF @ss.
MissA.x
We finally found somewhere that from the outside looked really cool (due to tricky tinted glass) and on the inside was basically a cafeteria. No matter, it served food and wine. Brilliant.
It's funny when you date someone for a few months, and you have a great connection and you have that smug feeling you know them so well, and then you break up and in one night as 'friends' you find out more about them then you did in all those months sharing their bed.
As you can probably gather, Mr.C surprised me last night. Perhaps boys are more comfortable letting you in on personal experiences as "friends", perhaps he had a bit more wine than usual... whatever the reason, it was really nice.
The story of me and Mr.C goes thus (stop me if you've heard this one before): He was supposed to be a rebound off a particularly emotionally draining, dramatic 2 year stint with a Troubled Boy. The rebound plan got shot to hell when I fell head over heels for him. How inconsiderate of him to cause such a divergence from a winning formula. Needless to say, Troubled Boy had left me with more baggage than the BA lost and found, and alas my blossoming relationship was not immune. After a few months of greatness, things crumbled and I was left holding some more lovely designer bags and a broken heart.
I couldn't look at him for the next six months without wanting to cry or claw desperately at his receding coat tails (no, no, it wasn't really like that. What guy wears coat tails on a regular basis?). So funnily enough we didn't speak much. That was well over a year and several not-quite-the-same relationships ago. I got past it, and I suddenly find myself with a great friend. Maybe not the Disney fairy tale ending us ladies are programmed to desire, but I'll take my consolation prize like a champ.
Besides, he has promised to set me up with one of his many single friends.
Result.
So that was day minus-11. Apologies there is nothing more lurid to report. I'll work harder next time.
As for tonight, I'm off to play table football in Shoreditch. I shouldn't be going; the flat is a mess and I need to get everything ready for my best friend's arrival from the colony (!!!) It's her first trip over the Atlantic, and I can barely contain my excitement. I am wiggling uncontrollably in my excitement, like a sack full of wiggling puppies. She is coming specifically to help me through this dark countdown. What a lovely, lovely girl.
Off to kick some serious TF @ss.
MissA.x
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The countdown begins
It is happening. There is nothing I can do about it. I have tried prayer, meditation, negotiation, begging, crying, slathering on inch-thick layers of time-defense cream nightly. I have gone through all the traditional phases of mourning. And now I have reached...
Acceptance.
I am turning Thirty.
It is happening.
As you can see, I am taking it well :-)
But, in a spasm of desperation I have decided something. I have decided that you are only as old as the youngest age you can get away with saying you are. My friends (also turning thirty, so highly unreliable) say I can get away with 26. I have tried it, and drunk boys believe it. So I am 26. *Sigh* I feel so much better.
On a completely unrelated and not-mid-life-crisis-induced topic, I have been dating a 24 year old. He actually looks 18. Actually, by my new rule that is a bit disturbing... I'm not sure a 26 year old should be dating an 18 year old. Ah well, the rule doesn't really apply to men because the bastards age with "distinction". And a two year gap is perfectly acceptable I'd say.
So back to the horrific topic at hand: the Big 3-0 (isn't it great when people who have already been through this say it that way?? I love it.) I have decided the best way to get through the trauma is to document the day-to-day desperate and inappropriate activities I undertake to take my mind off it.
Day minus-11
Tonight I am meeting up with an ex-boyfriend for drinks (what did I just write about inappropriate activities??) But this is in no way to find out if I am still attractive, and I will in no way depend on his reaction to me for self-affirmation. Nor will I have too many martinis, throw myself at him, and crumple into a ball of sobbing dejection when he rejects me. No no, it is just friendly drinks!
Jokes aside, it really is just friendly drinks. I'm almost 100% positive I don't think of him 'that way' anymore. Well, 94.2%
Let us see how that percentage is effected as the night unfolds...
Watch this space :-)
Acceptance.
I am turning Thirty.
It is happening.
As you can see, I am taking it well :-)
But, in a spasm of desperation I have decided something. I have decided that you are only as old as the youngest age you can get away with saying you are. My friends (also turning thirty, so highly unreliable) say I can get away with 26. I have tried it, and drunk boys believe it. So I am 26. *Sigh* I feel so much better.
On a completely unrelated and not-mid-life-crisis-induced topic, I have been dating a 24 year old. He actually looks 18. Actually, by my new rule that is a bit disturbing... I'm not sure a 26 year old should be dating an 18 year old. Ah well, the rule doesn't really apply to men because the bastards age with "distinction". And a two year gap is perfectly acceptable I'd say.
So back to the horrific topic at hand: the Big 3-0 (isn't it great when people who have already been through this say it that way?? I love it.) I have decided the best way to get through the trauma is to document the day-to-day desperate and inappropriate activities I undertake to take my mind off it.
Day minus-11
Tonight I am meeting up with an ex-boyfriend for drinks (what did I just write about inappropriate activities??) But this is in no way to find out if I am still attractive, and I will in no way depend on his reaction to me for self-affirmation. Nor will I have too many martinis, throw myself at him, and crumple into a ball of sobbing dejection when he rejects me. No no, it is just friendly drinks!
Jokes aside, it really is just friendly drinks. I'm almost 100% positive I don't think of him 'that way' anymore. Well, 94.2%
Let us see how that percentage is effected as the night unfolds...
Watch this space :-)
MissA.x
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