My First Beard / Christ Has Risen

What is the obsession with men and beards? I am really sorry but I just don’t get it. Give me a clean cut chin that I can slobber with kisses any day. Not a mouth full of hair! Urg! I’d make a terrible lesbian!

Mr Beard is an old friend from Twitter.  Some of you may recall his blog.  A fantastically sexy writer, he’d blog about his sexual exploits and his pursuit of the female variety.  I used to enjoy a little read on my way to work each day, leaving me wondering about how gorgeous and sexy he might be in the flesh.  We exchanged tweets for a while and then he asked me out on a date once I revealed changed my avi to the real me.  When we actually met, I was surprised that he wasn’t the beautiful man I was expecting to see.  He had a full on beard.  I’ve never been out with ‘man with beard’.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about thick facial hair. But I went with the flow and there was something about him that hooked me in.  He kept his gaze on me throughout our first date and he subtly touched my legs during conversation; this left me feeling slightly woozy by the end of the night.

Fast forward many months.  I hadn’t seen him in 12 months, in fact.  He’s a prolific online dater, Match, Guardian Soulmates, POF, Tinder, he’s done them all (and continues with the aforementioned).  So I wasn’t too fussed about seeing him again and I have been dating others myself, don’t you know?

Anyway, Sunday afternoon he messaged me whilst attending his granny’s 90^th birthday (why he thought of me at an old woman’s birthday, I’ll never know!).  It was a casual ‘I’m thinking I could come round tomorrow with a bottle of your favourite’.   And so I obliged.  I knew what the following night would entail and I was already getting excited.

We’d sent flirty texts all day whilst at work.  He told me to answer the door naked.  I would have done so but I have neighbours with children to think about.  Instead I told him, I’d leave the main door open to the flat and he could come upstairs and knock on my actual door and I’d let him in.  It worked.  But I wore a very nice underwear set with killer heels.  Once through the door, I wasn’t quite prepared for the sight in front of me!  A larger than life, basil brush-type broom sat on his face! Urggghhhhhh!  He had let it his beard grow waaaayyyy too long! I was quite repulsed! I just don’t do beards!

He lent down to kiss me and I shut my eyes and pursed my lips, whilst this wiry, fuzzball tickled around my lips. I could just about access his mouth.  Really, there is no need for it.  I told him off for growing his beard and that I was struggling to get my horn on.  But it was he who told me to close my eyes.  Soon enough his hands rid up and down my body and it wasn’t long that we christened my kitchen table.  Beard and all.

Let me resume.  Mr Beard did not leave me alone all night.  I have never had a man spend so much time on my own ‘beard’.  I have no idea what he was doing down there but can only imagine he groomed, pruned, gave me a short, back and sides with a head massage thrown in (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Later on, after I fed him (and probably assisted further beard growth with five-a -day), I laid next to him in bed (not a pillow but said beard, very comfortable) and said: ‘You know,  you are looking like a Greek priest and I am going to church this weekend for Greek Easter. Every time I see the priest, I am going to think about you and what you did it to me tonight’.  We both laughed.  I may be thinking ‘Christ has risen’ this weekend but I will have thoughts of other things having risen.  God, please forgive me in advance for any bad thoughts.  It’s not you, it’s your beard.

 

Was it the champagne, or something I said?

Some of you may have heard about Jersey boy.  He was a set up by one of my oldest and dearest friends and I trusted her totally.  He happened to deliver on all our dates.  A total gentleman, he was unassuming and thoughtful.  He sent me fabulously lengthy texts and they were always so well composed and witty.  I started to think that my luck had changed and that just maybe, he could out-do Mr Potentially 'The One' and actually be ‘The One’.

In person, Jersey boy did strike me as a fairly quiet one.  Me, a confident, overly expressive and bubbly individual; I was very aware of our personality differences.  However, I thought this was a good thing, taking me away from suave, cocky types with the gift of the gab.  I started to like his solemn, retrospective nature.  I thought this could be someone who can bring a calming influence to my erratic ways.  Opposites attract, as they say.

Up to date 3, we shared kisses on tube platforms, and he always waited for me to get on the train before he walked away.  He opened doors, let me walk on ahead, paid for dinner and drinks. Chivalry was not dead when he was around.

Last night (essentially, date 4), he came to see me performing for an amateur dramatics company. After the show, he presented me with a really good bottle of champagne to celebrate the run being over. I was somewhat over-awed by this gesture.  He was charming, talkative to other cast members and he looked HOT.  Even the gay cast members thought so.  I was beaming.  Here was this gorgeous, tall, broad-shouldered man standing next to me, making me feel like the cat who got the cream.  We shared the champagne and moved onto beer.  I was feeling giddy and we cuddled up to one another; looking like a genuine couple.

Was it the champagne?

Back at my flat, we kissed some more.  He somehow managed to unbuckle my bra with one hand and one flick.  I have to say, I have never seen anyone do it as fast as he did.  Was that an indication of having done that many times before or just a lucky fluke? Who knows? 

The plan was for him to stay on my sofa bed.  But me being ever so accommodating, I offered him my bed and said I would sleep on the sofa bed as he has very long legs.  But then, in my rather overly flirty way, I expressed that I also wanted to sleep in my own bed so it wasn’t long before I joined him under the duvet.  More delectable kissing, fondling under my pyjama top and wandering hands…oh dear, you know where this is heading! BUT, we didn’t have sex! We had SOME self-control.

From what I remember, we fell asleep holding hands.  But as night turned to day, I was conscious that he didn’t cuddle up or spoon me.  In fact, he slept facing away from me most of the time. 

I shall cut to the chase.  The morning after went like this: he got up and showered whilst I made breakfast.  My fire alarm was set off whilst cooking the bacon so he grabbed a copy of Time Out and fanned the smoke away from the alarm.  After he sat down, he started flicking through Time Out.  I thought, charming!  Am I that boring that he needed to see what was happening in London that week?  Where was the witty banter we had over text messaging?  I was at a loss but I blamed it on that ‘morning after feeling’  you get with added hangovers . No real conversation should ever take place in this state.

It was time for him to leave as he needed to get a specific train.  On my doorstep, he placed his hands around my waist and told me he had a really great night last night and that it was a lot of fun.  Then, he dropped a bombshell. ‘….But I don’t think I am feeling it with you’.  Errrr, what? After last night’s events, that was the last thing I was expecting.  He said, ‘believe me, I am just as upset as you are.’  I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing.  With his hands still firmly on my waist, I thought I was having an out of body experience.  He’s saying one thing, but his actions were doing another.  I felt limp so I moved out of his grasp.  I didn’t know what to say apart from ‘Ok, well, you’d better leave or you’ll miss your train.

I am not entirely sure what had happened on my doorstep.  Had I got it so wrong? Was I just swept up in the fantasy of him being my romantic knight in shining armour but without a personality to match?  I hope he goes back to Jersey and stays there.  However, I really don't think the English Channel is big enough to keep him away from me.  Goodbye and good riddance.

Mr Potentially 'The One'

I have regressed.  After vowing very loudly that I would NEVER go back to online dating, I caved in once again.  EHarmony , one of the few online dating sites I hadn’t tried, somehow emailed me (am I on some database or something?) and tempted me on with a free offer.  I have had several friends tell me recently that it has the best success rates but I was dubious...surely it’s just another online dating site with more non-committal types?

I had been on for about a week when I scoured through numerous profiles and sent some ‘smiles’.  And let the conversations begin.  Mr Potentially ‘The One’ went straight into saying how he liked my profile and wrote confidently and articulately but also has a chatty tone.  We exchanged messages for about a week when he suggested about meeting up.  Coincidentally, he works less than 50 metres away from my office  in central London.   Now that is pretty rare, considering  I have spend that last 10 years of my life working in schools near home and as soon as I land a new ‘office’ type job, it just happens to be around the corner from Mr Potentially ‘The One’?  I'm spooked.  I do practise the Laws of Attraction and I have gone as far as creating a vision board to bring forth my knight in shining armour so I am now wondering if this visualisation lark does actually work?!

We met one evening after work and I had got to the bar before him as he was in a late meeting.  I saw him walk in and knew it was him instantly.  He also found me straight away.  A double cheek kiss.  He smelt great and he looked even better.  The first thing I noticed was his eyes.  He had incredibly long eyelashes that curled up to his lids.  He walked off to get a drink at the bar and naturally I looked him up and down.  I really wasn’t expecting to see a very tight behind! My eyes widened and I  gave a secret chuckle to myself and tugged at my collar, I was feeling rather warm! His clothes were very fitted  which accentuated a body that made me go weak at the knees.

Our conversation flowed and he was very easy to talk to.  We both have knee injuries from working out, he also has an allergy (his being to wasps stinks, mine to nuts), we both are real foodies (eating, not making), and he just strikes me as a very likeable , friendly guy.  He is passionate about playing guitar but he abandoned it for the last ten years to focus on his career;  I could relate to that having not participated in any acting until to years ago.  I guess you could say we have some connections and with his hot looks and decent conversation, it’s safe to say I was pretty happy to be on a date with him!

Can he be the one please?

Soon after dinner, I gave him a clear indication that I liked him.  I can only blame the alcohol I had consumed up until then.  He came back from the toilet and I patted the seat next to me so he could sit beside me.  It wasn’t long before we interlocked hands and he leaned in and kissed me.  I responded, in fact, I couldn't quite wait to snog the face off him.  Eeek, too soon?  I don’t know but we had already shared some lingering looks over dinner.  He kissed very gently and placed his hand around my neck/face area which I absolutely adore.  Some men are hideous kissers but he wasn’t at all, I'd go as far as saying he was the perfect kisser.  And I got to touch his arms which were HARD; that may have helped a little bit.

So,  it was a really good night, with more smoochies in the bar and lots of smiling and looking into each other’s eyes.  It’s early days yet, but I have a good feeling about this one.

Mr Bad Boy v. Mr Nice Guy

I have never been very good at dating two men at a time. I always considered it to be a thing women do in their twenties. When I have attempted to date two people at once, my heart starts to sway towards one than the other and before you know it, I am left with neither! But….and as many friends of mine tell me, always date more than one guy so you are never hooked on any one of them. So when one lets you down, you know you always have a back -up. I am about to really give this a go. It’s definitely not how I would imagine meeting ‘the one’ but maybe this time one of them could come good.

Male specimen 1 - This is an online date and he is the last guy to have contacted before I said ‘no more’! We had been exchanging messages for a couple of months and his messages were detailed enough and well composed. He’d shown good interest in my life and I liked his photos including the quirky quiff and geeky glasses. Oh, did I mention he has a cute smile? All seems rather good, doesn’t it? We finally got round to meeting. It turns out he is a northerner, he failed to mention that in his profile which I thought was strange. But, I don’t have anything against folk from the north of Watford, I actually found his strong Yorkshire accent quite endearing. What else he failed to mention (in fact, what he lied about) is his age. He is actually 38 as opposed to 35 as stated on his profile. Not an issue for me but clearly, he has an issue with it. Apparently, women over forty hit on men in their late thirties, haha!

The smoking kind

As first dates go, I gave it the thumbs up. He was friendly, flirtatious and cheeky and mixed with a few drinks, I could safely say I enjoyed his company. One thing however, he smokes. I can’t quite bear smokers. I am the type who passes smokers in the street and I either cover my mouth or wave my hand around my face to be rid of the disgusting smell. When he kissed me goodnight, I hesitated due to the cigarette breath. I soon succumbed due to his attractive nature and, despite the stale cigarette smell, the kiss happened to be rather good! Now, I am not done. That is not all he smokes. He says he partakes in a bit of marijuana every now and then. ‘How often?’ I asked. ‘About once a week’, he answered. Hmmm…

So make of that what you will. Our second date was of similar ilk. He took me to dinner and he did one of the sweetest things. If I said something verging on the sensitive side, he leaned across the table and kissed me. Tick! This guy openly talks about wanting to be in a relationship and settling down. Tick! He also happens to have trained as a chef in his youth. Tick! But he would light a cigarette at any outdoor opportunity. X! This Yorkshireman has had a difficult childhood and he uses the ‘f’ word quite loosely in conversation, so as you can imagine, he is a little rough around the edges. I suspect he has had a lot of girlfriends too. I hate to be so judgemental but I would have to class him a rough diamond, potentially being a ‘Bad Boy‘. If we were to become seriously involved, I fear it could all end in tears…

Male Specimen 2 - This chap was a set up from an ex-work colleague. She thinks we would make a good match as we come from similar backgrounds. It turns out we have family connections and I met him once at my uncle’s surprise 50^th - ten years ago! RANDOM! I remotely remember talking to him, particularly the part where he said he went to a Los Angeles acting school after his accountancy degree. Who does that?! Back then, I was young, he was even younger and he wasn’t what I was looking for.

Just too nice?

Ten years on, is he what I am looking for now? Well, he is very nice. And I mean a big, fat, four letter N-I-C-E. On our first date, the man had one alcoholic drink (ok, he was driving) and he spoke eloquently. He talked at length about his family (and mine, bizarrely), his work, holidays….blah, blah, blah. All very predictable and ‘NICE‘. No flirting or cheekiness, quite the opposite to the Yorkshireman, and definitely no swearing. He strikes me as a very homely, studious and hard-working type. He has recently bought his own house which he is renovating and has a masters from Oxford. A bright one. It was no holds barred, I got the low down on most areas of his life. But then where is the mystery?

I am being judgemental again. I am painting a picture of him visiting his mum most evenings and getting home cooked meals. This well-educated man has had a good upbringing, intelligent and friendly but I think he might be a bit too pure and nicey-nicey for me. I would like a bit of unpredictability and intrigue but it all feels a bit too straight-laced with Mr Nice Guy. 

Drawn to a rebel 

Can you tell which one has got my attention at this early stage? Yes, Mr Bad Boy. I already know he is going to excite me and bring out my devilish side but would he be prepared to commit? Can I trust him when he says he wants a relationship? Mr Nice-Guy has already been vetted out for me by my work colleague who has known him since university days. He is trustworthy and squeaky clean. Despite knowing all this, I am once again drawn to the rebel. Question is, what will this rebel cause for me…only time will tell…

Summer breeze, makes me feel high

Some dates you go on you wonder where it will lead, others you know you are flogging a dead horse.  Then there are some that you know exactly where they are heading.  Straight to the bedroom.

The instructions were clear: wear something red, a mac and no underwear.  No knickers to be exact.  So I obliged on all accounts – I’m good like that.

My initial thought was could I actually walk out of my house without any knickers on?  Only I would know…so what would be the problem?  I’ve never done this before – I’m not that kinda girl ;)

As I was getting ready, I was already beginning to feel the pangs of excitement.   Freshly showered, moisturiser slathered all over my body, a spritz of perfume – I’m good to go.  Nope wait…I suppose I should wear something on my top half at least.  There…done.  Wow.  And there it is, it’s just there for the taking.  Nothing restricting me.  Access all areas. 

 

Out in public, my anxiety begins.  People are staring at me – they know, they can see through me.  I’ve got that look on my face.   Why are there suddenly so many men on the tube tonight?  And why do they all happen to be staring in my direction?! The cold air rises up and in between my legs.  It feels fresh, like a gentle blowing breeze.  I’m walking sex but I don’t want anyone else knowing that. I’m sitting down carefully, very slowly crossing my legs.   The mac covers my dress so it looks like I’m wearing nothing.  I feel like I’m wearing nothing.  I am wearing nothing down below!  I’m walking differently too.  I’m walking tall, it’s a false sense of confidence.  Yet I feel amazing. 

The anticipation mixed with excitement about what will happen tonight is thrilling me to the core.   I think I may lose it from the first point of contact.  I can hear his voice telling me what to do.   I can imagine where his hands are going.  I can picture him putting me into position.   It’s a wet evening (naturally) and we meet both dripping with further wetness between our mouths.  He doesn’t know yet.  I want to tell him but I also want him to find out.

It isn’t long before I tell him I have a surprise for him.  It was all worth it for the look on his face…and what suitably followed.

Banish the Cocktail bars and Ditch the Make up

Who likes a cocktail? Maybe the question should be who doesn’t?  Well, stop right there.  Do not say another word or move another muscle.  I have some very important news for you that should change your life.  That is, if you are a single, fabulous woman who wants to meet a wonderful man.  Save your cocktails for home and put your make up aside.

No more make up!

What you are doing right now not working for you, right?  You have tried speed dating, online dating, blind dating and if there was door-to-door house dating, you’d be trying that too.

You have read the usual tips on how to meet guys: go out more, be more forward, get a hobby, join a fitness class etcetera, etcetera.  And you have done all that too, many times over.  But just take a step back for a moment and think about this.  These wonderfully chic, sophisticated wine and cocktail places you frequent with your equally wonderfully chic, sophisticated girlfriends (also single), wearing your wonderfully chic, sophisticated (not to mention elegant) dress, heels and hairstyle (all perfectly coiffed) are not doing you ANY favours.  Why? I hear you ask.  Well, who actually frequents these swanky, glamorous bars (apart from your good self)?  MORE women like your good self and… gay men.  And if there are any heterosexuals there, they would be the well-groomed, eyebrow plucked, hair over-done types – nobody wants to date a man like that, do they?

I know it is pretty much hard to swallow right now and when I had this self-realisation myself, I became a little concerned.  No more cocktails?  No more lounge bars with funky music?  No more cute foreign bar men??  ‘Afraid so.  It is now time to banish the glossy hair and lips, chuck your 4 inch stilettos in the back of your closet (save them for when you are dating your 6’2” hunk of a boyfriend!) and start hitting the sports bars and grimy, old man’s pubs. 

I know you have spent all of your thirties avoiding such hideous, smelly, ugly places but it’s now time to revisit these places where you were ordering a cider and black and throwing up in the toilets at 23 years of age.  This (sadly) is where the real men are.  Some not very nice men, but some ‘ordinary’ type men where they are just chilling out with their mates and not eye-ing up every other woman in the bar.

So I can’t dress up anymore and look pretty anymore? Unfortunately, that is the harsh reality of it all.  Do you do any of the following when getting ready to go out: spend ages agonising about what to wear, how to style your hair, which shoe colour, eye shadow colour and nail colour would look best with your new purchased outfit?  If you answered yes to any of these, then it is time to take part in my experiment.  I am setting out a challenge to all women who truly want to meet a genuine guy and are sick to death of going out in the hope that some guy out there will ask for your number.  Gorgeous as you maybe dolled up to the nines; it naturally gives off an air of high maintenance to some men and can only work for you in the short run. 

The Challenge.  On your next night out (where you will be visiting a sports bar/pub), put on trainers or flat shoes, wear loose, comfortable clothing, comb your hair but no styling products and just wear cover-up make up because we all know that some things need covering up! Give it a go – what do you have to lose?

So, time for me to take my own advice, get off this laptop and venture to the no-so-pretty pub in my area and see what desirables are there waiting for me.  Barefaced and all and without a cocktail in sight.

Good luck to one and all!  Can’t wait to hear how you all get on.




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