Mr #20 - The BFG

The preamble:

I initially replied to a message from Mr #20 because, and I'll be brutally honest here, he was a giant. Regular readers of 52 First Dates will know my feelings towards gentlemen of the diminutive stature, so I thought fair's fair, let's give a giant a go! And by giant, I mean 6'6", which is a good 16 inches taller than me. Let's face it, the wedding photos would look bloody hilarious! However, after replying to the first couple of messages, I appear to have unleashed something scary. 

Every day, without fail and without reply from me, he would send me a very long message rambling on about all sorts of random stuff and usually trying to force more methods of communication upon me, email addresses, phone numbers, Facebook links. After a very hectic work schedule rendering me pretty useless at responding, and the fifth unanswered message in a row, he sent me a very pitiful email bemoaning my lack of contact and that he wished me all the best for the future. Dammit, you're needy! I eventually responded, because you can't get away with messaging people like that in online dating, no wonder you're single! Normally I would have not bothered, but I won't lie, I felt I needed a giant on my dating CV so I swallowed my instinct and replied apologising for being unavailable, but that I'd been busy. He was rather shocked by my honesty, and rapidly started back-peddling, apologising for his innate clinginess. Although this was then totally negated by enquiring as to what I was doing for a certain date in late December. Easy sunshine! 

Eventually I caved in and arranged a date, but after that sort of preamble, I wasn't really looking forward to it...

The man:

Age: 35

Profession: Social worker

Random factoid: I think the fact that he is 6'6" tall definitely has to go in this box.

The day of the date:

Today has been a weird day. Anyone familiar with previous posts will be aware that there has been a third party wafting around my romantic periphery for some time now. To explain, he was a boy I met online last December. He was a musician slash actor slash owner of indescribable hair, we went on a date, rescheduled for after Christmas, and then he vanished into the ether. But back in June, out of the blue, he appeared again through the same dating site, and we'd been messaging constantly ever since. This is a boy with major commitment issues, who's been buggering me around by being as intense as you can get, then falling off the radar. This has gone on for 4 months, and despite numerous attempts on my behalf to arrange a meeting, today I finally decided to pull the plug.  And not a day too soon, since a fortnight ago he confessed to meeting another girl, randomly booking a holiday to Vegas with her as a 'joke', insisting he didn't like her, but that he was going away with her anyway. Seriously, what planet are you on??? I'm just not cut out for that sort of game-playing. But truth be told it has made me really rather sad, mainly because it would've been so easy for us to meet up and see if we really got on as I thought we did, but his eternal embuggerations made it totally impossible. But I'm fed up of being dropped, picked up, dropped, picked up, dropped picked up, and so with great sadness, I told him no more. So that's that, 52 First Dates is no longer at risk of being thwarted. And when you read the rest of this entry, you'll see that's still the case.

The date:

So, it's a Monday, it's Hallowe'en, I'm feeling miserable, so what better way to spend such an evening than with a giant. A great big needy giant. And he wasn't lying about his height either, as many men do online, he really was the tallest man I've even met in my entire life (even taller than my friend Katy's dad - he's a giant too). 

He was also a bit of a man mountain too, clad in double denim no less. Hmm. He also had a substantial amount of facial piercings which were not evident in his profile pictures, including a blue sparkly rhinestone in his nose. 

He was jolly enough in person, although not green enough to be in a sweetcorn ad, but I thought he'd be pleasant enough company for the evening. Conversation kicked off, he spoke at great length about his 5 year old son who he clearly adores, his curiosity about my working schedule that had made me so unavailable, the fact he'd not had a girlfriend until he was 21 (although not intimately apparently, thanks for that Mr TMI dot com!), his MOT, an affair he had with an older married woman, the London riots, insurance claims and modern manners. 

What I liked about his was after our second drink, he called it a night as he was aware how hard I was working. But not before spending the last ten minutes asking me over to his for dinner this Friday, offering to drive me round London, seeing if I could take a day off next week or if he could come over to see me for an hour one evening. Christ, give a girl a break! 

After the bitter sting of rejection recently, don't get me wrong, it's all very flattering and it's lovely to know I'm not totally repulsive to the male race, but this is just too much. Seriously too much. I've only just met you, I'm not coming over to your house or getting in your car. No way. Especially when you see the event of note...!

Memorable Quotes:

'I'm fixing up a remote controlled car I bought from a kid in care...'

'I went for a beer with my mate Neville. He's 71, but he was good to me when I was homeless...'

'I used to really want to show Old English Sheep Dogs at Crufts. But all the men who show dogs at Crufts are gay. And I'm not gay. But I don't like how they poof up the dogs tails. It looks stupid.'

Events of note:

The subtle production of this from his jacket in front of the entire pub...oh wait, have I woken up in the fifties?

Yup, it's a single red rose. I've been promised a lot more in the future. Dear Jesus...

The verdict:

Considering my dread before the event, it was a surprisingly nice evening. But the long and short of it is, I didn't remotely fancy a man with a face like a sieve, bigger boobs than I have, who could probably hospitalised me if I accidentally got in between him and the sofa. 

He also called me 'babe' like it was going out of fashion. Plus anyone who uses LOL in a non-ironic sense is more than enough to grate on me, but someone who uses LOLOLOL as if it actually means something (laugh out loud out loud out loud? Seriously???) is someone automatically red-carded from my romantic playing field. 

On a more serious note, he was also the first parent I'd met out dating, and although I absolutely adore children, I'm not sure how I'd feel about getting involved with a parent at this stage. Maybe if the right man came along. But sadly, the Double Denim Big Friendly Giant isn't him...

Mr #11 - Captain Coriander

The preamble:

I've been messaging Mr #11 for a wee while now, and although on the face of it he wasn't the usual kind of guy I'd normally go for, I knew pretty early on that he'd be an evening well spent regardless of whether there was any chemistry or not. He'd been very playful, and we'd already had some very funny banter about coriander, his favourite thing in the entire world, and a substance I have dubbed 'the evil weed'. But putting herbal differences aside, we agreed on a cilantro-free venue and the date was set.

The man:

Age:37

Profession: Artisan crafstman slash electrician

Random factoid: Once heckled Nick Cave in a Q&A session

The date:

I'd been warned early on that Mr #11's football team's performance had left him a state of emotional distress (oh dear Arsenal, oh very dear, thwarting my dates so, Wenger you big old bastard you), so I was under pressure to make the evening an improvement. 

He was running late thanks to neglecting to check TFL so I sorted myself out with a drink and waited for him to pitch up. Eventually, Captain Coriander blustered in with a faceful of apologies for his tardiness, this awesome shock of black curly hair, a delightfully shambolic manner  and I knew we'd be in for a fun evening. 

I did initially have reservations about age, since he was my oldest date to date (not that it's an age gap of Anna Nicole Smith proportions but you know what I mean) but after he'd acknowledged the fact I was a bit younger that was that and it wasn't mooted again.

Conversation was really varied, from his love of ancient history and Thailand to Polish builders, dads, Wiis and tragically losing his little sister. He also revealed his obsession with origami, not to mention the incredibly vexing petal technique (which I heard about in great great GREAT detail), and when I was at the bar he knocked me up a little flapping bird out of the Racing Post. 

Since it was a bank holiday Sunday and no-one had work to do in the morning, we decided to move on to an awesome rockabilly bar with bras on the ceiling and continued the banter. This was an evening of a few #52firstdates firsts...he was very complimentary and for once, because I need these things spelling out for me, I was aware that he actually fancied me. 

I think maybe there must've been something in the air in that bar though, as every time he popped off to the loo, some random boy would pop up and try and chat me up. Very strange. It got to about half twelve and I had to call time on the night on account of extreme tiredness and an ever-increasing vodka-to-blood ratio. We ambled off to get the night bus, which in true TFL style didn't turn up for 45 bloody minutes. Still, to while away the time we shared a lovely little kiss and a cuddle at the bus stop like some silly teenagers, and went our separate ways.

Memorable Quotes:

Would you like a drink?'
'Can I have a pint please?'

'Sure, what would you like?'

'Heroin'

'I'm afraid they're all out'
'Oh. In that case I'll have a Fosters'

Events of note:

I have never seen beer come out of someone's nose before like a sprinkler system. Until tonight. Dear lord!

The verdict:

I have to say Captain Coriander was excellent company, and one of the most down-to-earth guys I've met so far. I think he may be keen to meet again, and if he is I think I would like to see him again, just to see if there may be anything there other than booze-induced snoggings.

Mr #5 - Snowglobes and Sweetness

You may be asking why, after my recent Catfish debacle, that I'm so willing to take the plunge back into the metaphorical dating pool? Well, I figure why not? I've already sussed out one of the weirdos, I'm pretty sure I can sniff out the rest of them. So now, I am prepared. Oh yes, I've got armbands on. Famous last words? Probably...

The preamble:

Mr #5 was actually one of the very first boys I started messaging during the #52firstdates project, but our delay in meeting is all to do with a 2 week holiday in Dubai (his, not mine), and an all-consuming dating-related nightmare (mine, not his).  

From the off, I liked the sound of this lad. We had the same taste in comedy, and he had a charmingly colloquial way of messaging. And not even one sniff of a LOL. And he looked cute to boot. Nice. 

Before he went away, he'd promised me a drink on his return if I was still interested, and I said only if he brought me back a snowglobe of the Burj Al Arab.  He trotted off to the Middle East, I trotted around London town for a wee while, and needless to say, he got back to the UK, got back in touch, communication recommenced, and finally we sorted ourselves out a little date.

The man:

Age:28

Profession: Still strangely cryptic...in short, I still have no bloody idea! Not for want of asking...I suspect it's something a little underwhelming, but as long as it's not a primary school teacher, I couldn't care less!
Random factoid: Is living with a terrorist. Well, for 'is' read 'suspects he might be'. So maybe less of a random factoid and more controversial conjecture...

The date:

Once again the venue was my choice, somewhere near work, but given that I was running late from work and he was more than happy to pop along Waterloo-wards, it all worked out rather well. I met him outside the bar, and to my overwhelming relief, he looked exactly like he was supposed to. And he was very cute, neatly packed into a polo shirt and crowned with a rather sweet flat cap. Already my faith in the male race was more than just restoration-in-progress. 

Once inside, not wanting to dally, he ordered us a cheeky bottle of vino. Nice - clearly not too frightened of me at first sight to commit to more than one drink. Conversation was not a problem at all, I rather boldly/foolishly bulldozed in there immediately with the ridiculous story of my ongoing date-fright with Mr/Mrs #2, and he was very entertained and incredibly forgiving that I'd buggered him around in finally getting round to a date. 

We covered a lot of mutual ground, arachnophobia, Paranormal Activity, lesbian double lives (friends', not our own...), why cats rule the world and the various accents of the British Isles. The bottle disappeared, and we decided on another glass for the road, and before we knew it, the bar staff were telling us to foxtrot oscar. 

We took the tube back as far as our common journey took us, he walked me to the platform, gave me a hug and said he'd hoped my date had been better than the previous experience. Once on the train, I got a rather sweet text to say thank you for the evening, and we both bidded each other nuhnight.

Memorable Quotes:
'Goldsmiths students scare me. Why do they need such big ginger beards?'

Events of note:

The surprise arrival of a Burj AL Arab snowglobe. Literally amazing. Funny AND thoughtful.

The verdict:

I have to say I had a really lovely evening with a guy who seemed fun, funny, sweet and understatedly charming. I don't know if he'd like to see me again, if he asked me I definitely would. But I'm not sure if I could get away with asking for a second date without looking over-keen. I'll just have to keep a sly eye on the BlackBerry just in case he decides to get in touch again...

Mr #3 - Revolutionary Socks

The preamble:

Once again, Mr #3 was from the wicked world of the interweb. Although unusually, for once, I was Mr #3's first dabbling into the dark arts of online dating, which made me feel oddly better about my whole pre-date nerves...mainly because he told me on no less than 5 separate occasions how scared he was. Scared? Of me? Has he read my blog already? And anyone who ends their dating emails with 'with kind regards' does evoke a certain formality which, quite frankly, I was having none of...

The man:

Age: 28

Profession: Stage crew in the West End
Random factoid: He knew where Bram Stoker got his inspiration for Dracula. A suicidal tramp jumping off a bridge in London apparently. Good skills.

The date:

Thanks to a hectic end-of-work day I pitched up a tad frazzled to a poor drowned rat of a boy who'd neglected to bring a brolly. Fortunately his first date nerves were worse than mine which, as mean as it sounds, made the whole thing a thousand times better.  

Okay, so Mr #3 wasn't the tallest man in the world, nor did he bowl me over with his astonishing good looks. However, he humoured me with my fear of very yellow wines within the first five minutes of meeting, so I thought it was probably well worth a shot. Well come on, who likes a Chardonnay that looks like the byproduct of too much Berocca? Didn't think so...

To my complete surprise, he'd brought me a little first date giftette...three balls of wool in the colours of the Tricolour, to commemorate both my love of knitting, and his job on Les Miserables. Genuinely, an unfeasibly sweet gesture. Within a very short space of time, we'd managed to establish that brown sauce was, in fact, the brownest substance in the entire universe, why the Lion King musical is actually for adults only, the fact that beef jerky tasted like cat food-flavoured shoes and finally, utterly annihilated the abysmal singer/pianist combo making the entire evening considerably hard to hear. 

He also dutifully endured my breakdown of knitting the royal wedding, but blotted his copybook when he controversially offered up the word 'retarded' in conversation not long after disclosing he had a disabled brother. A brave move. And although he did seem to  manage to turn every conversation round to knitting, 'would eating wool be acceptable to vegetarians?', presumably for my benefit, which was oddly endearing. 

I think, however, after I found his first little comedic vignette amusing, he did go on a mild humour-bender, which was all very nice but perhaps a little try hard. I also pretended not to notice the subtle-if-not-virtually translucent way he slipped the phrase 'ex wife' into converstion, knowing full well he'd just got it out there for his own peace of mind rather than mine. 

Nonetheless, it was a surprisingly mirth-filled and partially-educative evening. When it emerged we were walking separate ways, he decided his route would take him along with me, which  I'm  pretty sure he later regretted once he wound up on the Blackfriars Bridge, as my bus soon arrived, and he had to perform a complete 360. I have to say after missing the first bus, the fact he surreptitiously inhaled a Smint did give me some cause for concern - he was a nice boy, but I was neither keen enough nor drunk enough to tolerate a snog, but that said, he was every inch the gentleman, and every iota grateful that his first experience of an internet date didn't chew off his head like some sort of praying mantis.

Memorable Quotes:
'Dirty Dancing is one of my favourite films'
'Have you ever tried knitting vomit?'
'I wouldn't be so bold as to insert an Oxo Cube into the anus of a tramp...'

Events of note:

My date managing to convince me he knew everyone in the bar...until he got to 'Jane, served four years for inappropriate acts on a goat...'

The verdict:

Mr #3 was a total wild card, and after the whole Mr #2 debarcle, I didn't enter into to the evening with my all. But he was fun, surprisingly funny despite being delightfully well spoken, like he was breastfed RP, and I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Perhaps he needs to work on his hard-to-get technique, because after five minutes on the bus he'd suggested we met again, and although at this stage I can't see myself as the future Mrs Oxo-Tramp-Anus, I would definitely see him again. We shall see...