I need a plan.
Grayer's plan was excellent. Unfortunately, I cannot use Grayer's plan due to the fact that the national sport over here is soccer. Soccer fans are not baseball fans. Soccer fans are men that during the 9-5 in the office are quite mild mannered creatures but when they get to a soccer game they become cavemen type hooligans who drink and swear and chant. Yes, they chant. And it's not pleasant. I googled 'football chants' to prove my point:
To the tune of Yellow Submarine:
Michael Chopra loves to beat his wife,
loves to beat his wife,
loves to beat his wife.
This is the calibre of men we are talking about here. And then, if their team loses? Well what better way to cope with the humiliation and defeat by trashing whatever pub you happen to walk into first?
To conclude, I can't use Grayer's plan. I need a new plan.
I have tried to go to areas where there may perhaps be some eligible men lurking about. Well maybe not lurking, that wouldn't be terribly attractive.
* I joined my work's softball team. When Vi plays softball she is the flame to the many male moths she plays with. When I play softball I am but a smouldering wet match, if that. I have fun though - I didn't join softball to meet guys, it just would've been nice if it was an added bonus is all.
* I go out to a variety of drinking establishments in a variety of areas of London. Nada. Just your typical British men.
* Now that I know more people in London I have started to meet friends of friends which people say is one of the most common ways of meeting someone. Zilch.
I am aware that I am starting to sound quite bitter, maybe even slightly desperate. I'm really not. I'm just saying that it would be nice if just occasionally I went out one evening or met up with some friends and there was a relatively normal, relatively attractive, relatively funny guy there. I don't think that's asking too much.
What's most annoying is when people ask the question dreaded by all singletons:
"Fenella, why are you still single?"
BECAUSE THERE ARE NO BLOODY DECENT MEN AROUND. AND IF THERE ARE, I CAN'T FIND THEM.
I'm really not desperate. I swear.
Showing posts with label The Plan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Plan. Show all posts
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
The motherload
I'm sure you couldn't sleep last night wondering how the most brilliant plan of all time was working out. That's ok I didn't sleep that much either. Wink.
For starters the game blew. We lost 16-2. 16-2! That's not a game, that's a beating. I was somewhat concerned this beating might effect the morale of the man fans I was about to meet. However, I think the opposite was true. They were trying to drown their sorrows in cheap beer and even cheaper ladies. My friend Flora canceled on me but I was determined. Instead of hitting the bars with her, I went with my roommate, her boyfriend and his two single male friends. Two single male friends that were vying for my attention. Seriously. I had my pick. I picked the high school math teacher.
So the plan didn't really go according to plan. I basically just got drunk and came home with a friend of a friend. But that doesn't mean it wasn't working. Listen up ladies: Hitting a sportsbar after/near a game is a fucking gold mine. There were single men everywhere. In packs. And they often seemed interested in me.
I was not wearing a Sox shirt. I was not wearing much makeup. I was not showing that much cleavage. I was getting hit on. I got hit on standing in the beer line at the stadium. I got hit on while going to the ladies room. I got hit on sitting at the bar. Yes this was a brilliant plan. I only wish I could have come up with earlier in the season.
For starters the game blew. We lost 16-2. 16-2! That's not a game, that's a beating. I was somewhat concerned this beating might effect the morale of the man fans I was about to meet. However, I think the opposite was true. They were trying to drown their sorrows in cheap beer and even cheaper ladies. My friend Flora canceled on me but I was determined. Instead of hitting the bars with her, I went with my roommate, her boyfriend and his two single male friends. Two single male friends that were vying for my attention. Seriously. I had my pick. I picked the high school math teacher.
So the plan didn't really go according to plan. I basically just got drunk and came home with a friend of a friend. But that doesn't mean it wasn't working. Listen up ladies: Hitting a sportsbar after/near a game is a fucking gold mine. There were single men everywhere. In packs. And they often seemed interested in me.
I was not wearing a Sox shirt. I was not wearing much makeup. I was not showing that much cleavage. I was getting hit on. I got hit on standing in the beer line at the stadium. I got hit on while going to the ladies room. I got hit on sitting at the bar. Yes this was a brilliant plan. I only wish I could have come up with earlier in the season.
Friday, August 20, 2010
The plan
Two days ago I came up with a plan. A plan so brilliant it borderlines evil.
I was at a Red Sox game, scoping out the goods in the outfield bleachers. Suddenly I realized--this is where every single man in Boston is! Why didn't I think of this before. I don't need to find them, I can just sit and let them come to me. Like moths to a flame.
Enter the plan: My friend Flora and I would watch the game at a bar neighboring Fenway, wearing our new Red Sox garb. (I'd be watching it for the baseball, she'd just be sitting there, she doesn't know/care about baseball.) As soon as the game was over they would all come flooding in. Well hello. How bout that game. Can you believe so and so struck out with 2 runners in scoring position?
I know what you're thinking right now. Wow, that's a brilliant plan. And yes it is. But wait, there's more. Two hours ago my roommate texts me. She got free tickets to the Sox game tonight through work. Do I want to come? Yes. Yes, I do. Clearly this plan is meant to be executed. Now I can even talk about where my seats were.
This will be an experiment. We'll see if men like girls that know their baseball (me) or girls that can remember one name to say when asked who their favorite player is (my friend Flora). Since I didn't get a chance to get a decent well-fitting Sox shirt, we're going to hope that a little cleavage will do the trick. And because I am coming from work, I just might stop in my local CVS to get a little makeup. What can I say, desperate times call for desperate measures. And if you haven't noticed, I'm in a bit of a dry spell.
It's go time.
I was at a Red Sox game, scoping out the goods in the outfield bleachers. Suddenly I realized--this is where every single man in Boston is! Why didn't I think of this before. I don't need to find them, I can just sit and let them come to me. Like moths to a flame.
Enter the plan: My friend Flora and I would watch the game at a bar neighboring Fenway, wearing our new Red Sox garb. (I'd be watching it for the baseball, she'd just be sitting there, she doesn't know/care about baseball.) As soon as the game was over they would all come flooding in. Well hello. How bout that game. Can you believe so and so struck out with 2 runners in scoring position?
I know what you're thinking right now. Wow, that's a brilliant plan. And yes it is. But wait, there's more. Two hours ago my roommate texts me. She got free tickets to the Sox game tonight through work. Do I want to come? Yes. Yes, I do. Clearly this plan is meant to be executed. Now I can even talk about where my seats were.
This will be an experiment. We'll see if men like girls that know their baseball (me) or girls that can remember one name to say when asked who their favorite player is (my friend Flora). Since I didn't get a chance to get a decent well-fitting Sox shirt, we're going to hope that a little cleavage will do the trick. And because I am coming from work, I just might stop in my local CVS to get a little makeup. What can I say, desperate times call for desperate measures. And if you haven't noticed, I'm in a bit of a dry spell.
It's go time.
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