"I'm a little perplexed by dating habits (if you can call them that) of British men. Here I thought all British men were Colin Firth/Hugh Grant types who learn another language and spontaneously fly to Portugal to ask their lady loves to marriage them. It's like the movies aren't real or something."
Vi, as usual, has hit the nail on the head.
I'm very proud of the fact that my blogging means that WWBD? is international. But this comes at a cost. I have to ruin the Colin Firth/Hugh Grant/Mark Darcy/Mr Darcy dream. It doesn't exist. At all. Or rather, they don't exist, at all. Oh the accent exists. But when you hear it you automatically think 'snob' or 'public school'. Public school over here is not a good thing. Public school types are conceited and arrogant and not in the good Mr Darcy type way.
And now for the dating habits of British men. They don't exist either. A guy over here has NEVER asked for my number. I am forever jealous of Vi's emails where she mentions a guy who asks for her number and then, actually calls. Reference: Popcorn Man. This is how it works in the UK:
* Guy and girl meet in bar
* Copious amounts of alcohol is consumed
* Guy and girl start flirting
* Some type of physical action occurs
* Numbers are exchanged
* Congratulations! You know have a boyfriend / girlfriend. (This may only last for a few hours)
Sometimes you meet up again and then start getting to know each other. There is no (sober) interaction involving friendly chat and then the guy takes your number. I'm sure there is the odd occasion where this does occur- I've yet to witness or experience it.
It's extremely frustrating. I would love for a guy to ask for my number. Even if I wasn't interested I would just like it to happen. I would also like to try the American way of dating. Yes, I'm sure it has its pitfalls, but it seems a heck of a lot better then the system we have over here.
What makes it even more frustrating for me when reading Vi's emails is that I like American men. I don't get the appeal of the British guy (except Mark Darcy, but he is, sadly, a literary figure), they're scrawny and have a severe lack confidence amongst other things. But an American guy? Yes please! You may disagree but they do say that the grass is always greener.
You may think that my opinion on American guys is unfounded and I'm not cutting British guys much slack. So it seems only fair that I conduct a social experiment - and I have a degree in Sociology so I can conduct social experiments. This time tomorrow I will be on a plane heading to the US for the first time in 10 years. Not only am I visiting the wonderful Violet but she has said, nay promised, that I will get to meet lots of cute American men. I can chat to them, see if they really are the confident and funny guys I think they are. I can also see if they actually do this asking for your number thing I hear so many things about (obviously not mine as my weird accent will give it away I'm not from those parts, but I could observe it happening to others).
So I will make the effort to talk to cute guys and report back to you all. It's all in the name of WWBD? Not for personal enjoyment or anything. And I am sorry to ruin the 'British Man Fantasy'. Really I am.
Showing posts with label Popcorn Man. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Popcorn Man. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
To Snog a Smoker?
After his texting frenzy, Popcorn Man actually picked up the phone and called me on Thursday evening. (This was, of course, after he texted me that afternoon.) He asked me what I was up to this weekend. I said I was busy on Saturday and Sunday. He said that "maybe" he would give me a call to see what I was up to on Friday. All the while, I'm thinking. It's Thursday. Why don't we just make a plan for Friday?
Friday rolls around. Due to extreme cold and ice, it's an official snow day! I spend the day hibernating with a book and a crochet hook. By the time evening rolled around, I hadn't left the house all day, and I was ok with that. At 8:00, I got a text (of course) from Popcorn Man. He wanted to know what I was up to. I told him I was hibernating. He responded with, "Damn, I was hoping we could hang out." I was torn. Part of me wanted to stay in my chair, wrapped up in my blanket, reading my book. Another part of me wanted to actually be social. I told him that depended on what he meant by hanging out. He suggested I could go to his house and hang out. Or he could come over to my place.
This is when texting is preferable to an actual conversation. I have time to consult my roommate and figure out what it is I actually want to do. My roommate advised that I should see him. So I told him to come on over, and if we wanted to go out somewhere, we're in a two-block radius of a wide variety of bars.
I looked down at my clothes and decided I had better change. Even if we stayed in, my leggings and leg warmers, complete with llama motif, were probably not going to cut it. At that time, it was 9:30. By 10:30, my roommate and I were watching 27 Dresses, and I was kind of hoping he would stand me up. At 10:45, he called and said he would be here in half an hour. I decided I needed some hot chocolate as a pick-me-up. He finally arrived just before 11:30.
I offered him a beer, which he accepted, and we took up residence on the couch. We chatted for awhile, flipped through the Would You Rather...? book my roommate and I keep on our coffee table just for situations such as this. Then he had to go outside on our porch in the 12 degree weather to smoke. He came back in reeking like a chimney. Consider myself officially checked out.
I think it was around the 12:45 mark that he started to annoy me. I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was his tendency to ramble. And never stop. When he found out that I don't like Ikea (seriously, I hate Ikea) he went on and on and on AND ON about how I shouldn't hate Ikea and about how he himself will take me to Ikea someday so that I will no longer hate Ikea. Then I got a dissertation on his gout. Gout! It's an old-person's disease! There was nothing-and I mean nothing- that I could contribute to that conversation. I mean, aside from a sympathetic "yeah" and a nod of the head every now and then.
It was also about this time that his hand took up permanent residence on my knee. I didn't like it. And that is a clear sign that this is Not Going to Happen. He tried to talk me into going out, but at that point, it was after 1:30.
Dear Popcorn Man,
This is where you screwed up: You didn't make a date. Had I known ahead of time that we had a scheduled time to go out, I would have been more up for it. I wouldn't have gotten so comfortable in my blanket and slippers. Then, if you did want to go out, you should have suggested it within 30 minutes of your arrival at my place. By the time you did, my hot chocolate had worn off and I was back to the blanket to keep warm. Oh, and quit smoking. You stink.
I finally managed to get rid of him at 2:00. There was no kiss goodnight. I had made up my mind over an hour ago, that even if I do want more action this year, I wasn't going to want it from him. Not without an awful lot of liquor, anyway. Snog a smoker? I think I'll pass. Unfortunately, he texted me at 2:09 to say. "Sweet dreams. :) I had fun."
Bah! What do I do now?
Popcorn Man: Fail.
Friday rolls around. Due to extreme cold and ice, it's an official snow day! I spend the day hibernating with a book and a crochet hook. By the time evening rolled around, I hadn't left the house all day, and I was ok with that. At 8:00, I got a text (of course) from Popcorn Man. He wanted to know what I was up to. I told him I was hibernating. He responded with, "Damn, I was hoping we could hang out." I was torn. Part of me wanted to stay in my chair, wrapped up in my blanket, reading my book. Another part of me wanted to actually be social. I told him that depended on what he meant by hanging out. He suggested I could go to his house and hang out. Or he could come over to my place.
This is when texting is preferable to an actual conversation. I have time to consult my roommate and figure out what it is I actually want to do. My roommate advised that I should see him. So I told him to come on over, and if we wanted to go out somewhere, we're in a two-block radius of a wide variety of bars.
I looked down at my clothes and decided I had better change. Even if we stayed in, my leggings and leg warmers, complete with llama motif, were probably not going to cut it. At that time, it was 9:30. By 10:30, my roommate and I were watching 27 Dresses, and I was kind of hoping he would stand me up. At 10:45, he called and said he would be here in half an hour. I decided I needed some hot chocolate as a pick-me-up. He finally arrived just before 11:30.
I offered him a beer, which he accepted, and we took up residence on the couch. We chatted for awhile, flipped through the Would You Rather...? book my roommate and I keep on our coffee table just for situations such as this. Then he had to go outside on our porch in the 12 degree weather to smoke. He came back in reeking like a chimney. Consider myself officially checked out.
I think it was around the 12:45 mark that he started to annoy me. I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was his tendency to ramble. And never stop. When he found out that I don't like Ikea (seriously, I hate Ikea) he went on and on and on AND ON about how I shouldn't hate Ikea and about how he himself will take me to Ikea someday so that I will no longer hate Ikea. Then I got a dissertation on his gout. Gout! It's an old-person's disease! There was nothing-and I mean nothing- that I could contribute to that conversation. I mean, aside from a sympathetic "yeah" and a nod of the head every now and then.
It was also about this time that his hand took up permanent residence on my knee. I didn't like it. And that is a clear sign that this is Not Going to Happen. He tried to talk me into going out, but at that point, it was after 1:30.
Dear Popcorn Man,
This is where you screwed up: You didn't make a date. Had I known ahead of time that we had a scheduled time to go out, I would have been more up for it. I wouldn't have gotten so comfortable in my blanket and slippers. Then, if you did want to go out, you should have suggested it within 30 minutes of your arrival at my place. By the time you did, my hot chocolate had worn off and I was back to the blanket to keep warm. Oh, and quit smoking. You stink.
I finally managed to get rid of him at 2:00. There was no kiss goodnight. I had made up my mind over an hour ago, that even if I do want more action this year, I wasn't going to want it from him. Not without an awful lot of liquor, anyway. Snog a smoker? I think I'll pass. Unfortunately, he texted me at 2:09 to say. "Sweet dreams. :) I had fun."
Bah! What do I do now?
Popcorn Man: Fail.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Mr. Darcy didn't text
Ever since my date on Friday night with Popcorn Man, he has contacted me daily- via text message. Early Saturday afternoon, he texted me to tell me how much fun he had on Friday night. Ok, no problem. It's kind of nice to know when you were on top of your game. Later that evening, he texted to ask what I had going on that night. I really, really didn't want to go out, and it was nothing against him. It was just that I had gone out each of the last three nights, and that included New Year's Eve, and that last vodka and cranberry was a mistake. All I wanted was to spend an evening on the couch with Mr. Darcy, and I didn't even want company. So I told him it was "movie night," which he interpreted to mean that I was going out to the movies, and told me to "have fun at the movies."
Sunday: He texted me to ask how the movie was and what did I see?
Monday: "How's your day going?" I told him it was going "great" (which is was) and asked about his. He said it was ok, but still going. Then, in a separate text, he told me that he gets off work at 8. I'm not sure if I was supposed to suggest that we get together then, but I didn't. I had work to do that night anyway, and it shouldn't be my job.
Tuesday: I thought maybe he had given up, and even said so to my roommate. Spoke too soon, though, as he sent me a text in the evening asking me "How's your week going?" Not very original. Still, I felt obliged to respond, and apparently one of my responses was witty, because he included the acronym LMFAO (which a quick google search told me stands for "laughing my fucking ass off"). I consulted Fenella who told me that anyone who uses that acronym is a definite NO and that as a rule, if I have to google it, I should just cross them off my list.
It is now 10:05 on Wednesday, and so far, no text. I'm getting a bit tired of the texting game. If you want to go out again, man up and call. If not, don't bother texting. In the meantime, I'm losing interest.
Sunday: He texted me to ask how the movie was and what did I see?
Monday: "How's your day going?" I told him it was going "great" (which is was) and asked about his. He said it was ok, but still going. Then, in a separate text, he told me that he gets off work at 8. I'm not sure if I was supposed to suggest that we get together then, but I didn't. I had work to do that night anyway, and it shouldn't be my job.
Tuesday: I thought maybe he had given up, and even said so to my roommate. Spoke too soon, though, as he sent me a text in the evening asking me "How's your week going?" Not very original. Still, I felt obliged to respond, and apparently one of my responses was witty, because he included the acronym LMFAO (which a quick google search told me stands for "laughing my fucking ass off"). I consulted Fenella who told me that anyone who uses that acronym is a definite NO and that as a rule, if I have to google it, I should just cross them off my list.
It is now 10:05 on Wednesday, and so far, no text. I'm getting a bit tired of the texting game. If you want to go out again, man up and call. If not, don't bother texting. In the meantime, I'm losing interest.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
An Excellent Start
New Year's Eve. My least favorite holiday of the year. You might assume my least favorite holiday would be Valen- er, Single's Awareness Day, but that's not true. It's easy to ignore S.A.D. Especially if it's during the week, you just continue with your normal routine. With New Year's Eve, there is way too much pressure to not stay at home watching chick flicks. (At least alone. But finding someone else to commit to watching chick flicks with you, is not easy.)
This year, I thought it would be easiest to go out in my neighborhood, within walking distance of my place. There are no shortage of bars in a three-block radius, and we wouldn't have to worry about a designated driver or paying for a taxi. Anyone who wanted to was welcome to crash on my floor. But sure enough, my friends had ideas of their own that didn't involve my neighborhood. I immediately called not-Designated Driver. I gave them the option of not needing one, so I sure as hell wasn't going to be responsible for driving everyone around.
Despite the plans, I was very excited about the evening. I had put together a pretty rockin' outfit, and was feeling very good. Our first stop however, was a party in midtown, nicknamed the "gayborhood." It was indeed the gayest party in town. There were men everywhere. All making out with each other. Now I am a friend to the gay community, but on New Year's Eve, that's not really what I'm looking for. Luckily, it wasn't a complete wash, as several of the guys complemented my wardrobe choice, and that means a lot coming from this crowd. Eventually, we managed to make it out of the party and on to the bar, which also happened to be located in the heart of the ghetto. On our way in, we heard several gunshots. I told myself they were celebratory fireworks. The bar also had an awful lot of men making out with other men, as well as plenty of girl-on-girl action, but we met up with my roommate and our cute neighbor there. It was nearly midnight when we arrived, and my roommate and I were entirely too sober. We had some catching up to do, and did we. The cute neighbor was hitting on both of us, which was pretty strange, but when you're in an inebriated state, you don't tend to notice too much.
Finally, we made it back to a bar around the corner to my place. Once we had a table, I got up to get some popcorn to go with all the alcohol. On my way back, my path was blocked by a scruffy looking man, so I politely said excuse me. He turned around, apologized, introduced himself. "Violet," he said. "You're gorgeous. Nice to meet you. Are you here with your boyfriend?"
Ha. Silly boy. Why on earth would I be there with my boyfriend, let alone have one?
I went back to my table where my roommate and cute neighbor were getting a bit cozy. A few minutes later, Popcorn Man (as my roommate has referred to him so often it's stuck) pulled up a chair next to me and started talking. We chatted while my roommate and neighbor quite obviously analyzed our interaction. I was in a pretty good place though, and managed to ignore the fact that they were staring and breaking down our every move. Before leaving, Popcorn Man said he would love to take me out sometime, and did I have any plans for the rest of the weekend? I gave him my number.
My roommate, the neighbor, and I walked back to our place, where we cooked breakfast, and the neighbor tried to put the moves on my roommate, and she tried to get away. She accomplished this by putting me in between them. We have a pretty good-sized kitchen, but it felt very crowded. A sober me would have felt uncomfortable. We couldn't get the neighbor to leave. I went to bed, but while I've been assured that nothing happened, he is officially "a situation." (In that my roommate is not interested. He's kind of a man-whore.)
New Year's Day. The Popcorn Man actually called. We decided to go out for drinks that night. I figured a date on the first day of the new year is a very good sign. While talking to him, I decided he's the perfect candidate for a Mr. Right Now. He's scruffy and bearded and fun to talk to. He paid for my drinks and opened doors. He even texted me a few minutes ago to say that he had fun last night. But halfway through our first drink he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and asked did I mind if he smoked?
Ugh. I know I'm not looking for everlasting love here, but this is one of those dealbreakers I have yet to get over. It's just so unattractive. Even when I was on a remote island with Mr. Almost Perfect, I couldn't get past it. I've never actually snogged a regular smoker. And while I know my New Year's resolution is to get more action, I'm posing this question to any of you who might have experience: Is snogging a smoker worth it?
This year, I thought it would be easiest to go out in my neighborhood, within walking distance of my place. There are no shortage of bars in a three-block radius, and we wouldn't have to worry about a designated driver or paying for a taxi. Anyone who wanted to was welcome to crash on my floor. But sure enough, my friends had ideas of their own that didn't involve my neighborhood. I immediately called not-Designated Driver. I gave them the option of not needing one, so I sure as hell wasn't going to be responsible for driving everyone around.
Despite the plans, I was very excited about the evening. I had put together a pretty rockin' outfit, and was feeling very good. Our first stop however, was a party in midtown, nicknamed the "gayborhood." It was indeed the gayest party in town. There were men everywhere. All making out with each other. Now I am a friend to the gay community, but on New Year's Eve, that's not really what I'm looking for. Luckily, it wasn't a complete wash, as several of the guys complemented my wardrobe choice, and that means a lot coming from this crowd. Eventually, we managed to make it out of the party and on to the bar, which also happened to be located in the heart of the ghetto. On our way in, we heard several gunshots. I told myself they were celebratory fireworks. The bar also had an awful lot of men making out with other men, as well as plenty of girl-on-girl action, but we met up with my roommate and our cute neighbor there. It was nearly midnight when we arrived, and my roommate and I were entirely too sober. We had some catching up to do, and did we. The cute neighbor was hitting on both of us, which was pretty strange, but when you're in an inebriated state, you don't tend to notice too much.
Finally, we made it back to a bar around the corner to my place. Once we had a table, I got up to get some popcorn to go with all the alcohol. On my way back, my path was blocked by a scruffy looking man, so I politely said excuse me. He turned around, apologized, introduced himself. "Violet," he said. "You're gorgeous. Nice to meet you. Are you here with your boyfriend?"
Ha. Silly boy. Why on earth would I be there with my boyfriend, let alone have one?
I went back to my table where my roommate and cute neighbor were getting a bit cozy. A few minutes later, Popcorn Man (as my roommate has referred to him so often it's stuck) pulled up a chair next to me and started talking. We chatted while my roommate and neighbor quite obviously analyzed our interaction. I was in a pretty good place though, and managed to ignore the fact that they were staring and breaking down our every move. Before leaving, Popcorn Man said he would love to take me out sometime, and did I have any plans for the rest of the weekend? I gave him my number.
My roommate, the neighbor, and I walked back to our place, where we cooked breakfast, and the neighbor tried to put the moves on my roommate, and she tried to get away. She accomplished this by putting me in between them. We have a pretty good-sized kitchen, but it felt very crowded. A sober me would have felt uncomfortable. We couldn't get the neighbor to leave. I went to bed, but while I've been assured that nothing happened, he is officially "a situation." (In that my roommate is not interested. He's kind of a man-whore.)
New Year's Day. The Popcorn Man actually called. We decided to go out for drinks that night. I figured a date on the first day of the new year is a very good sign. While talking to him, I decided he's the perfect candidate for a Mr. Right Now. He's scruffy and bearded and fun to talk to. He paid for my drinks and opened doors. He even texted me a few minutes ago to say that he had fun last night. But halfway through our first drink he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and asked did I mind if he smoked?
Ugh. I know I'm not looking for everlasting love here, but this is one of those dealbreakers I have yet to get over. It's just so unattractive. Even when I was on a remote island with Mr. Almost Perfect, I couldn't get past it. I've never actually snogged a regular smoker. And while I know my New Year's resolution is to get more action, I'm posing this question to any of you who might have experience: Is snogging a smoker worth it?
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