Better to be safe than sorry?

In recent days i had been feeling a little blue, it happens to us all, start thinking about career, love life, generally moving forward and realising it isn’t really happening. This along with the horrific English weather is what prompted me to make the decision to re-enter the world of online dating. (yes yes I know I have sworn off it several times, but I was suffering from a bad case of SAD).

I turned again to mysinglefriend, mainly because I thought my friend bigged me up on my profile much better than what I could muster and I was also under the impression it was one of the more classy sites, rather than being famous for being a free way of finding easy sex.

I had been chatting to a few select people that had ok pictures and had similar interests to me, mainly going to festivals and enjoying the life London brings with it. All seemed fairly standard and although I wasn’t really too inspired to meet up with these people I thought I should give it a go now I had braved it this far.

I arranged to go on a date with a smiley looking giant (6’’4) South London based northerner mid week. This week ended up turning into a bit of a crazy one at work with many a free drink occasion presenting itself so I ended up cancelling twice (I think at this point I should have realised it wasn’t floating my boat and left it at that- ahh hindsight).  

Friday came round which was the biggest event to end my crazy week, my summer party. This consisted of fancy dress, karaoke and free booze from 3pm, a bit of a dream for a party fan like myself.

The theme for the day was The Olympics (naturally) and we were given a country to dress up as. I was a creative genius/verging on racist dressing up as Jedwood for Ireland complete with a creepy face mask and accessorised with a full range of handmade potato jewellery.

After over 7 hours of supping free booze I received a text message from the giant that I had completely forgotten about, wishing me a good night and letting me know he was at home bored. Drunken inspiration hit me, I needed to head back to South London anyway, why not meet him for a drink on route as I had been such a blow out to him all week? Surprisingly he instantly agreed to my hazy idea and we arranged to meet Southside.

I bid my drunken workmates farewell and ventured off into the night to find the giant (completely forgetting I had a Jedwood mask on the back of my head and was decorated with raw vegetables).

After a very blurry tube ride I stumbled out and found the giant northerner, off we went for drinks and conversation (or him trying to translate my slurs into sentences).

Very little can actually be recollected from the two hours I proceeded to spend with the online man but I do remember thinking he really was insanely tall and had odd hair (both facts I can imagine I voiced several times).

At closing time we headed out into the night and I announced I would be getting a bus home. He offered to get us a taxi which I presumed was him being a gentlemen dropping me off home and then heading to his gaff afterwards (ahh the naïve drunken brain).

In the taxi giant gave a fumbled attempted to kiss me which was far from enjoyable and in the end resulted in me giving him a friendly push to end the ordeal. Somehow he ended up coming into my house for another drink; I headed off to the toilet to allow myself to think of a plan to get him out while he sat in my room…  

I returned to the room with a speech all ready to launch into about how tired I was and how my big manly housemate would be home soon etc.

I looked up to find Giant sprawled out on my bed, completely naked, with condom on (yes that’s right ON) all ready for action.

Questions arise-

- How long was I gone for him to strip off all his clothes (and leave in a fairly neat pile at the foot of the bed), get excited, locate, open and put on a condom?!

- Had he been practising various poses of how to lie to best present himself in that time frame?

- Does he have a secret fetish for Jedwood?

- What reaction did he expect? A simple hop on?! We don’t need to go into detail but even if I was planning to sleep with him (and I understand why he might have thought this was a possibility, I am not completely blameless here) it takes a little more than setting up the sails for it to be a true success story!

- Had this approach worked in the past?

The reaction that did take place - I burst into hysterical laughter and exclaimed ‘’WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’’

He was dressed in a flash, hopping around with his socks and out of the door; the only noise to be heard from him was the quick snap of the condom.

The next day I received this text message ‘’Hey Betty it was great to meet you, you seem like a really awesome girl and are really hot but something just wasn’t right. Take Care. Giant. x’’

I have so far continued to be too shocked to think of a suitable response...

A Thailand Adventure

A few months ago, bored of the usual London scene I decided to go global and headed off to the sunny shores of Thailand.

I travelled round backpacker style clutching my lonely planet guide for dear life.
After a few days I was very much enjoying the carefree existence, making new friends, crisping up my pasty skin in the scorching sun and consuming potent alcohol served in buckets.

One famous attraction of Thailand is the epic full moon party which involves many drunken tourists bonding together all night on a beach covered in Day-Glo paint. It is at this party that many drunken incidents take place mainly being injury based.

One Norwegian guy I met in Bangkok told me probably the most shocking drunken episode that happened to a young man that he met the day following the carnage.
Norwegian had been forced to head hospital after thinking it was a good idea to vacate a tuc tuc whilst in transit resulting in some intense cuts to his limbs.

In the waiting room he noticed a young lad sobbing loudly into his hands. Norwegian sat for a while wondering if he should speak to him or not. After a bit of a self debate he went across, placed his hand on sobbing mans back and gently asked if he was ok. The inconsolable man looked up and replied in a distraught tone ‘'NO I AM NOT ALRIGHT!’’

Norwegian blinked at him speechless - taking in the perfectly tattooed batman logo around the crying mans eyes.

Turns out the poor lad had decided to sample a fair few of the ‘special’ mushrooms that are available from some of the more colourful bars on the island. The vegetable consumption had inspired him to insist strongly that a tattoo artist permanently brand him as batman so that everyone was aware of his status.

Moral of the story- Don’t do drugs kids.

Silver lining- Crying man will never be stumped for what to go as on Halloween

Say it don't spray it

A friend of mine recently made the school girl error of re-entering the world of online dating. Choosing a rather famously free (and mainly targeted at those guys looking to get a bit of action) site she got chatting to a young gent name James.

Via email he seemed funny, played various sports and aesthetically speaking passed the test with the few photos available for review.

To her disappointment he was nothing like his online persona, both physically and personality wise, he also appeared to have a bit of a problem keeping his saliva in his mouth, spitting at regular intervals during conversation.

After consuming two drinks out of politeness, my friend called me and decided to make her excuses and join us at a pub a few tube stops down rather than sitting it out with Jimmy Spit A-Lot.

After a fair few bevies in, my friend text some feedback to another friend regarding the date stating ‘’Left after two Corona's, date was odd, had a dodgy eye, kept touching my leg and spitting at me every other word- pretty horrific.’’

We can all guess who the mistaken recipient of this text was.

She is yet to hear back from James.

Always check and double check who you are sending a message too ladies and gents, technology is a danger to us all.

Bladder Boy

Hi and welcome back, thank you for your patience, I am hoping my newest adventures will make up for my absence. Please do enjoy my current escapades:

I recently went to see a band with a crazy friend from Liverpool. We drank, jived and sang along in standard Betty fashion. Following the performance my friend and I ventured out for some ‘fresh air’ and struck up conversation with some members of the band.

Several tequila shots later it seemed we had made some firm musically talented buddy’s. Along with the band was a mate of theirs that I appeared to warm to in my drunken haze. He was a northern musician; we shared the same birthday and seemed normal enough so I happily handed over my number to him when he left fairly early doors (should have seen this as an early sign of a bad match).

My friend and I partied on into the night (at one point my companion removed her top and threw it onto the stage in true rock and roll fashion.) and I completely forgot about the Music Boy.

I woke up to a few text messages from Music Boy and we had a friendly text exchange.

As the days progressed across the week text messages were taken up a notch with me receiving up to 4 in one sitting with no response from me, along with extra frequent phonecalls. Warning signs of an oddball but I thought I would still meet up with him when it was suggested, I had after all not exactly been inundated with date requests in the recent months.

We arranged to meet at a pub in Camden where some live music was taking pace, ideal Betty first date scenario.

Meeting outside the tube I instantly realised Music Boy was definitely not the tall, older and cool musician I had in my head; he was more a slight indie version of Justin Bieber than Charlie Fink. A shame but maybe we would at least get on as friends I convinced myself.

On arrival in the pub Music Boy disappeared straight to the bar and shortly after returned clutching a freshly poured pint; looking eagerly at his other hand I quickly caught on to the fact that I had not been included in this round, interesting approach. He then requested that I hold his drank while he headed off to the toilet to empty his bladder. This was not a good start, I glanced at the door contemplating making a hasty exit but he was back before I could make tracks.

Trying to shake off the bad feeling about the drink scenario I ordered a bucket of wine at the bar and gave conversation a go.

Luckily for me an hour into the evening I bumped into some work colleagues and I was given a slight outlet. One of my work mates kindly offered to buy us all a drink and Music boy leapt straight on the offer, falling over himself to join him at the bar, attractive. (I also received feedback following events that Music boy smoked pretty much an entire packet of my friend’s cigarettes in just two fresh air visits.)

Nearing the end of the disastrous evening my work mate placed his drink down on the side for a moment and on retrieval found Music Boy downing the remainder of the glass. (I have since learnt that the technical term for this act is ‘minesweeping’)

This was all too much, even for Betty dating standards. I quietly crept away from the ridiculous scene to subtly put my coat on and make an emergency solo exit. Before I could even pick up my coat Music Boy appeared out of nowhere asking if I was leaving and that he would come with me after he had been to the toilet.

Feeling bad I waited while he made use of the facilities and we left the pub. 2 seconds down the road Music Boy announced that he needed to go to the toilet again and dashed across the road to a closing pub.

Finally we made it on the tube where a few stops along the northern line Music Boy announced to me he would be leaving at the next stop so that he could go to the toilet, he also added that he always needs to plan his journeys in this careful manner so that he can go to the toilet on route.

A few things:

Please note I was in fact on a date with a healthy 25 year old not a 90 year old man.

He has now been renamed from Music boy to Bladder Boy; I think you can understand the reasoning behind this.

The night ended with me rejecting his offer of a kiss and instead offering him my cheek, which he proceeded to lick.

I will not be returning his persistent calls/texts.

A brilliant end to a great year of successful dating.

Saw 3 Dan

Now I feel my internet dating dabbles have been pretty disastrous (please refer to The Sober Date and Return of Betty) but after hearing this story from a friend this weekend I have realised I got off pretty lightly with savoury snack cheersing and strange emails:

My friend Kate* had been chatting to Dan* fairly frequently on one of the more serious focused dating websites, they seemed to get along well and so decided to meet up for some drinks in the centre of town.

After some enjoyable times in the pub the pair decided to head back to Dan’s abode for some further beverages, so far so good. 

When they got in Kate sat down while Dan selected a film for them to watch- Saw 3.

An interesting first date choice but Kate went with it (although confused as to why he particularly opted for the third film).

After half an hour of blood filled debauchery onscreen Dan appeared to want to make himself more comfortable and slipped off his trousers and sat silently in his pants.

A few minutes passed and it would appear Dan was still not comfortable and so he decided to ditch the boxers. After sitting for a while he asked Kate if she would like another drink and sauntered off to the kitchen to get the wine, tackle swinging freely around in the process.

It is at this point I question as to why Kate did not make a sharp exit but instead she accepted the wine and tried to carry on as normal.

That was until Dan began to pleasure himself whilst staring at the screen. Yes that is right, Dan was partaking in some solo action whilst using the third in the Saw series as his porn.

Again most normal people would have fled the scene and just banked it as a good pub story but not Kate ladies and gentlemen, when I questioned what she did she simply shrugged and said '‘well I helped him out’'

Romance apparently is not dead.

  

* As always names have been changed (slightly) to protect embarrassment, although not Saw 3 Dan, he deserves to be outed

For folks sake

A short interlude but I felt I should share this random snippet of a Bettyism that took place on a bog standard Tuesday evening:

For those that know me personally will know I have a big weakness for live music and discovering new bands, I love it, it gets me through the working week.

Last night I ventured off to see a folky band I am a big fan of in central London.

After a good time of drinking, singing and dancing about, the next thing I know I am waking up in a very green bunk bed in Kings Cross surrounded by instruments and more bunk beds containing the entire band. It was like being in some kind of musical army barracks. I would like to clarify straight away (and to my relief) that I was fully clothed even complete with shoes.

After taking in my odd surroundings I announced to the lead singer snoozing next to me that he looked different to normal (charming), leapt over a cello and was out of the door.

I now sit at my desk in yesterdays clothes (that I also slept in), reassessing my life- I am no longer a 20 year old student, it really is time to be reunited with that sensible part of my brain.

On another note I consider- why on earth am I still single?!

How not to get a date Betty style

Recently after enjoying a day of sunshine and the finest cava/cider combo in a South West London sun spot, my friends and I decided to continue on the happy sunny vibe in a bar (first mistake).

It was while enjoying a stimulating game of '‘I have never’' and several jagerbombs (second mistake) that a slightly recognisable guy walked over to me and asked

‘’Did you go to <middle of the range university name> and have a mangled finger?’’

My response was to nod, grin and proudly wangle my bent/lumpy/disturbing looking finger in his face. (Long story on the origins but I have touched upon it in my introduction post).

Turned out (obviously) to be someone I shared drunken student memories with 5 years prior- small world and all that.

Apparently said guy had seen me around the South West parts a few times (stalker) but had refrained from approaching me in the past as he was scared I may not be THE mangled finger girl- very pleased to have such a classy reputation from my uni days.

We exchanged numbers and later on my friends and I partied on with uni buddy and co.

The rest of the evening turned into a bit of a blur but I think I recall wine and dance moves being busted out which is slightly worrying, also potential of a bit of snogging action but this is all presumption on my part.

The next thing I knew I was waking up (fully clothed I will add) in a strange house with a pretty fusty smell invading my nose.

I remained in my duvet cocoon for a while trying to regrow the memory cells that had been cruelly killed off with a rather large concoction of juvenile drinking games and alcohol.

I eventually sat up to see uni buddy bustling around the room, slowly the earlier part of the evening came back to me and I at least knew who I was with.

I glanced in a mirror and realised apparently overnight I had turned into Slash- huge hair, make up smudged, eyes like pin holes- beautiful.

I also realised around the same moment i still felt a tad intoxicated and started babbling on as a result. Turned out everything I said/asked we had apparently touched upon the night before, damn my boozey memory.

Rewind a few hours:

Now the background that leads up to this point of the story is based on a hazy memory and feedback from uni bud, I do not hold any responsibility for the reliability of the social inept accusations that take place:

We apparently skipped off merrily in a taxi to uni buds abode in a different town.

Having no recollection of any taxi ride I had asked if we were in the area we were drinking in, uni bud seemed to take offence to this and began to realise the true extent of my memory loss, it appears I am quite good at concealing it at the time.

On return to the house it appeared we had continued the drinking- evidence of this was in the lounge where there sat a half drunk cider tinnie (mine) and a polished off bottle of Peroni (his)- I do sometimes worry about my ability to consume such large quantities of alcohol.

During our drunken slurs in-depth conversation, uni bud politely offered to take me out to which I allegedly barked in response ‘’only if it is to do with live music’'

Now I know I am quite the enthusiast for live music and do rate gigs as one of my top things to do, but I don’t think this is really quite the manner to approach an offer of a date, especially as they have been very few and far between this year.

I walked into the bedroom to announce immediately ‘’It STINKS in here’’ (always the charmer) and then proceed to collapse in the bed and sleep like a baby.

A true romantic tale.

Fast forward back to the morning

We stumbled out together pretty early doors as uni bud had to get to some charity work that he does every weekend (bless) but yet miraculously still with talk of meeting up in the near future. 

I now await to see if this was polite exit chat on his part or if he does in fact want to be charmed by Betty once again.

Question- will I hear from uni buddy again and do you think that date offer will still truly stand after this episode?!