Frustrated by the hot and cold countenance of the architect, wanker-banker and various other men in my life I've decided to take the plunge and delve into the murky waters of online dating.
Terrified by the prospect of having to sell myself, and spurred on by my friends that have had positive experiences on mysinglefriend.com, it seemed like the best option. Allow someone impartial to highlight your flaws in a witty fashion, simple enough. Or not, as my subsequent searches have revealed. I can't believe how many pathetic profiles there are. Come on people.
Luckily my best friend E is an exquisite wordsmith so my honest and amusing profile stands out a mile. MSF shall henceforth be referred to as 'I'm a lame friend', ILF.
Unfortunately online dating brings with it a whole new set of 'rules' of which I am blissfully ignorant (I find it hard enough adhering to the rules of 'meatspace'). I'm not quite sure what it means to be someone's favourite - does that mean they are going to send me a message or are they putting the feelers out to feel if I'm similarly interested in their profile? How many message exchanges is considered appropriate before you decide to meet for real? Crumbs. It's all rather scary.
So far my wonderfully witty profile has incited some pretty lame responses. E has packed it full of potential material so it shouldn't be too difficult to be clever and funny. We'll see.
Tuesdays are the new Thursdays.
Tuesday night date went swimmingly. I was late, couldn't drag myself away from the lovely K and the best mulled wine in London (Franco's on Jermyn St.). Finally I turned up at the Horse & Groom in Shoreditch, another fine drinking establishment and was greeted warmly by a lovely tall man, let's call him JJ.
We got on famously. He's hysterical, very London and a little bit rare but wildly entertaining. A boy about town, he seemed to know a lot of the cool kids and was wearing a Barbour. He also said 'sick rhymes'. Don't judge.
The gig was fantastic. We caught the last half of Jay Jay Pistolet; close your eyes and his heartbreakingly love-lorn lyrics and distinctive crackly vocals transport you to a post-WW2 era, open your eyes and he looks like he should be fronting an ad campaign for Gucci, gorgeous.
Mumford and Sons blew me away. Bluegrass-folk with boundless energy and perfect four-part harmonies. I wanted to jig the whole way through their set. JJ was equally impressed, he too never having heard much of them. The crowd absolutely loved them.
Next, the beautiful Laura Marling. She played a short solo set, and smiled the whole way through. She's so captivating, an absolute joy to see live. She played a cover of 'Ramblin Man' which was brilliant.
Last, but not least, the wonderful Johnny Flynn. JJ's favourite, he provided a great end to the show. The crowd had dissipated save for the hardened folkies and the set was the pefect mellow end to the evening.
Grumbling tummies sent us to the Brick Lane bagel shop for some salt beef and mustard goodness. A scrummy end.
We got on famously. He's hysterical, very London and a little bit rare but wildly entertaining. A boy about town, he seemed to know a lot of the cool kids and was wearing a Barbour. He also said 'sick rhymes'. Don't judge.
The gig was fantastic. We caught the last half of Jay Jay Pistolet; close your eyes and his heartbreakingly love-lorn lyrics and distinctive crackly vocals transport you to a post-WW2 era, open your eyes and he looks like he should be fronting an ad campaign for Gucci, gorgeous.
Mumford and Sons blew me away. Bluegrass-folk with boundless energy and perfect four-part harmonies. I wanted to jig the whole way through their set. JJ was equally impressed, he too never having heard much of them. The crowd absolutely loved them.
Next, the beautiful Laura Marling. She played a short solo set, and smiled the whole way through. She's so captivating, an absolute joy to see live. She played a cover of 'Ramblin Man' which was brilliant.
Last, but not least, the wonderful Johnny Flynn. JJ's favourite, he provided a great end to the show. The crowd had dissipated save for the hardened folkies and the set was the pefect mellow end to the evening.
Grumbling tummies sent us to the Brick Lane bagel shop for some salt beef and mustard goodness. A scrummy end.
FEE FIE FOE FUM.
I smell the blood of a lovely date....
A young architect I met on Friday asked me out to this. I'm impressed. It's been sold out for a while. I love Laura Marling and I'm looking forward to seeing Johnny Flynn.
I guess I'm over the man-ban.
Friendly Fires.
I love Friendly Fires. Ever since J was given a mixtape with Paris on it last November, I've been mildly obsessed.
I went to see them on Friday night with P. Brilliant gig. Koko was electric. Such a pleasure watching a band with an amazing lead singer who uses his voice as an instrument. Ed also has the best on-stage dance moves I've ever seen.
Oh, and listen to their cover of Lykke Li's 'I'm good, I'm gone' here.
Mascara magic.
Shu Uemura mascara has changed my life. As many of my friends will testify, I'd become a little too dependent on false eyelashes of late, having convinced myself that I really did have the most pathetic little stumps for lashes. Not anymore. Ultimate Expression mascara has seen to that. I could not recommend a product more. Go forth and let your lashes conquer the party season.
(I bought it in Sephora in the States, I know Liberty stocks it in London and I imagine you'll find it in most major department stores at the Shu Uemura counter...)
(I bought it in Sephora in the States, I know Liberty stocks it in London and I imagine you'll find it in most major department stores at the Shu Uemura counter...)
Perfect dress.
I bought this slinky little number in New York. I absolutely adore it, although this photo does not do it justice. It needs a curvier body to pull it off. Oh-oh. I might be tempted to pull a Susie Bubble and take a photograph of me in it...watch this space.Anyway, it's by Kimchi Blue and I wore it to my interview with Dress for Success last week. It must have worked a treat as I have my first shift on Wednesday! More on Dress for Success and the amazing work they do later.
Unlucky again.
It seems I can't get past the first date with anyone I actually like. Either they live on a different continent, just want friendship, or are intent on leading me on and then getting back with an ex-girlfriend who suddenly returns from South America.
I give up. I'm on a self-imposed man ban till the new year. Festive cheer, bah humbug.
I give up. I'm on a self-imposed man ban till the new year. Festive cheer, bah humbug.
I'm begging...
I want this top so much. Beautiful. I'd wear it tucked in with a pencil skirt. Wish I had some more cash at the moment. For those of you who haven't just spent all their pennies in New York you can buy it here.
Date.
Went out with D last night. Great night. Bubbles and dinner, what more could a girl ask for?
He'd had a pretty stressful day and had to take a big conference call at 10pm so it was a swift dinner. Swift but still very satisfying. He's a very interesting and lovely chap, and did I mention oh-so-gorgeous?
Today I'm off to New York for two weeks so I'll have to put him out of my mind till I get back. I'm sure E will be more than enough to distract me.
He'd had a pretty stressful day and had to take a big conference call at 10pm so it was a swift dinner. Swift but still very satisfying. He's a very interesting and lovely chap, and did I mention oh-so-gorgeous?
Today I'm off to New York for two weeks so I'll have to put him out of my mind till I get back. I'm sure E will be more than enough to distract me.
Unlikely romance.
Industry events are the last place you expect to find a decent man, particularly the industry I work in. Awards shows tend to be filled with ‘creative’ men and their watermelon sized egos.
Thus it was with typical nonchalance that I trundled along to the latest parade. I was so laissez-faire about the whole thing that I hadn’t even organised an outfit. So rather annoyingly, an hour before my boss was due to pick me up, I discovered that none of my standard slinky black dresses fit me properly. I plumped for the least sack-like, a satin black dress from Zara, two sizes too big. The outfit was slightly redeemed by some beautiful taupe Ash shoes. Nonetheless, I was hardly feeling my sexiest.
I spent the hour pre-dinner networking but didn’t really meet anyone of any great interest. Dinner, however, was a different story. As a relatively new start-up my company didn’t warrant a whole table so we were guests of the host. It’s always a bit of a gamble being on a mixed table but luckily I was surrounded by lovely people and the food and wine was divine. After the rather exhausting awards my new best-table friend, the gorgeous R, introduced me to some gentlemen from the table that had looked like the most fun throughout the evening. I got talking to the CEO who swiftly introduced me to one of his senior directors, D, saying we’d get on famously.
D immediately offered me a drink and took me to the bar, claiming my standard vodka soda was his favourite too, what a gentleman! We got talking and very quickly realised our backgrounds were incredibly similar. This is quite a big deal when you’ve been an expat, it’s not often you meet someone else who has an identical oil industry upbringing. We couldn’t stop talking and the attraction was obvious. We established rather quickly that we lived quite close to one another and that the after party venue was equidistant between our apartments so he asked me to accompany him. I hadn’t planned on going as I was supposed to be on a train to Scotland at silly o’clock the next morning, but hesitantly I agreed. How often does a gorgeous man who runs his own company ask me out? Exactly. So off we went to catch one of the Routemasters to the party at Embassy.
We drank champagne and talked however the venue quickly descended into madness and we kept being interrupted by work colleagues. D asked whether I wanted to go somewhere quieter where we could talk and get a decent cocktail. Before I had a chance to answer I found myself in a taxi heading east. He pointed out his street and I resolutely declared that I wouldn’t be seeing his apartment tonight! Miffed, he took me to his members club the beautiful East Room. His face fell once again when I admitted to having been there previously with an architect!
We holed ourselves up on one of the leather sofas and ended up having a brilliant night. We talked for a couple of hours, drinking Pisco cocktails and finishing the night with some port. We kissed and laughed. It was such a treat to talk to someone with a similar world view and a similar theatre of life experiences. Alas the night had to come to an end and he walked me back to Old St, hailed a cab, kissed goodbye and I gave him my card. No sooner had I jumped in the taxi when I received a message from him thanking me for the evening and saying what a treat it was to meet me. He’s taking me for dinner this week.
Thus it was with typical nonchalance that I trundled along to the latest parade. I was so laissez-faire about the whole thing that I hadn’t even organised an outfit. So rather annoyingly, an hour before my boss was due to pick me up, I discovered that none of my standard slinky black dresses fit me properly. I plumped for the least sack-like, a satin black dress from Zara, two sizes too big. The outfit was slightly redeemed by some beautiful taupe Ash shoes. Nonetheless, I was hardly feeling my sexiest.
I spent the hour pre-dinner networking but didn’t really meet anyone of any great interest. Dinner, however, was a different story. As a relatively new start-up my company didn’t warrant a whole table so we were guests of the host. It’s always a bit of a gamble being on a mixed table but luckily I was surrounded by lovely people and the food and wine was divine. After the rather exhausting awards my new best-table friend, the gorgeous R, introduced me to some gentlemen from the table that had looked like the most fun throughout the evening. I got talking to the CEO who swiftly introduced me to one of his senior directors, D, saying we’d get on famously.
D immediately offered me a drink and took me to the bar, claiming my standard vodka soda was his favourite too, what a gentleman! We got talking and very quickly realised our backgrounds were incredibly similar. This is quite a big deal when you’ve been an expat, it’s not often you meet someone else who has an identical oil industry upbringing. We couldn’t stop talking and the attraction was obvious. We established rather quickly that we lived quite close to one another and that the after party venue was equidistant between our apartments so he asked me to accompany him. I hadn’t planned on going as I was supposed to be on a train to Scotland at silly o’clock the next morning, but hesitantly I agreed. How often does a gorgeous man who runs his own company ask me out? Exactly. So off we went to catch one of the Routemasters to the party at Embassy.
We drank champagne and talked however the venue quickly descended into madness and we kept being interrupted by work colleagues. D asked whether I wanted to go somewhere quieter where we could talk and get a decent cocktail. Before I had a chance to answer I found myself in a taxi heading east. He pointed out his street and I resolutely declared that I wouldn’t be seeing his apartment tonight! Miffed, he took me to his members club the beautiful East Room. His face fell once again when I admitted to having been there previously with an architect!
We holed ourselves up on one of the leather sofas and ended up having a brilliant night. We talked for a couple of hours, drinking Pisco cocktails and finishing the night with some port. We kissed and laughed. It was such a treat to talk to someone with a similar world view and a similar theatre of life experiences. Alas the night had to come to an end and he walked me back to Old St, hailed a cab, kissed goodbye and I gave him my card. No sooner had I jumped in the taxi when I received a message from him thanking me for the evening and saying what a treat it was to meet me. He’s taking me for dinner this week.
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