Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts

Thursday, 4 March 2010

20 Bum Deal

Taggart was slightly peeved when she called me yesterday. Turned out that her work colleagues had been asking her if she'd 'pulled' on holiday.

'What kind of holiday do they think we were going on?!' she exclaimed. 'Don't they realise that we are mature thirty-three year olds and not teenagers now?'

It was pretty rude of them. I mean we'd told everyone that we were going to be purely relaxing and we'd chosen a hotel accordingly. One with a nice spa, rather than a nice bar. And as for men, we weren't going anywhere near the male species. We probably wouldn't even look.

Okay, Taggart did text me as she boarded her flight from Glasgow Airport to say that she was checking out whether there was any talent, but that's normal isn't it? Everyone knows that you have a nosey to see who you will be sharing a plane with. Plus even if there was some hottie it is highly unlikely that he would be sitting next to Taggart. I've flown more times than I can even remember and I've never had any good-looking strangers sitting beside me. Never. It just doesn't happen. It's a flying law. Like gravity.

There also seems to be a new rule that goes hand in hand with going on a plane trip. At least with me anyway. The fact that it is now customary for me to be on the receiving end of airport security banter. The first time was on my date with Fishy when I was told I couldn't board wearing knife and fork earrings. This time was going well initially, I didn't even beep as I went through the mental detector. As I went to collect my bag though I was stopped by one of the security guys who said he needed to search it. Fine. Just a bit inconvenient but I had nothing to hide.

'Er, what's this then?' he asked pulling out something from my bag.

Bugger.

'This looks a bit suspicious to me. What do you think guys?' he asked some of his colleagues holding up the object to show them. 'Do you think we should let her take this through?'

'Why don't you scan it through again on its own?' one of them suggested. 'I agree that it looks dodgy though.'

They discussed it for a bit longer, generating interest with the rest of the people in the queue. What on earth was this girl trying to take on the plane? Fireworks? A pet iguana? A pair of tweezers?

I wish. This was something far, far worse.

Everyone stared as the offending article was placed in a tray to go through the scanners. They looked puzzled when they saw what it was.

A book? Is that it? How could a novel cause such a fuss?

Yep. Just a paperback that I had picked up in the charity shop a few days before. It shouldn't be a big deal at all. Certainly not worthy of the laughter that erupted from everyone as it trundled past them and they got a closer look at it. Or to be more specific, after they had read the title...

'Does My Bum Look Big In This?'

I was mortified. I might have seen the humour in the situation were it not for the fact that I'm sure I saw some people staring at my ass. Which may also have been okay were it not that I'd dressed in leggings, making the answer to that question a resounding yes! I vowed never to dress for comfort again.

Was still slightly smarting as I got on the plane and made my way to my seat. I could see that the two next to mine were already taken. By two young, good-looking guys...

There is a God!!

I couldn't believe it. This had never happened before. Clearly the universe was trying to make up for the ordeal I had just had. I smiled at them as I sat down and said 'Hi'.

It just took a few minutes for the grin to be wiped off my face as I took in the clothes they were wearing, their voices and their relative disinterest in me.

Gay.

How bloody unfair.

The journey passed in silence. It was fine though. I was pretty busy with my book anyway. Then as we were about to land the guy sitting next to me started a conversation with me. We talked about all sorts - how old we are, where we are from, what jobs we do etc. At times, weirdly, it felt as though he was flirting with me but I'd obviously got that wrong. Or so I thought until we started discussing where we were staying in Gran Canaria. Turns out he'd read the reviews of his hotel after he'd booked it and had discovered that it was popular with gay clientele and that him being a straight guy he hoped that wasn't true.

Yep a flipping STRAIGHT guy. A single, straight and hot guy for that matter and I'd sat next to him for almost five hours and not made the most of the opportunity because I thought he danced on the other side of the ballroom. It's just lucky that Taggart and I weren't looking for that kind of holiday or I would really have been annoyed with myself.

Morale of the tale? - It's obvious isn't it? Never judge a book by it's cover.

Wednesday, 3 February 2010

22 Family Affair

It's been all about a boy recently, so I was looking forward to my friend visiting from Holland for some girlie time. We were going to paint each other's nails, have pillow fights in our underwear and talk about shopping and periods. Just the usual.

This is where you realise I'm lying, because you all know Fishy loves a bit of menstrual cycle chat and you probably think I'm all talked out on that particular subject.

Anyway, we were having a lovely weekend and while sitting drinking cocktails one afternoon, Lego moved the conversation on to my blog. (As an aside, my friend may live in Holland, but she is actually from Denmark and for some reason wasn't keen on my suggestion to refer to her as the Great Dane. She wanted to be called Lego. Something about how people enjoy playing with it..)

'I presume you have exaggerated some of the dates you've been on?'

'Sadly, I actually haven't.'

'You must have. Some of the guys sound like arseholes. They can't really exist can they?'

Ah, spoken like a true Attached Person. Internally I rubbed my hands with glee.

You see we were going out that night and I knew that I wouldn't have to do a thing. I could just sit back and relax and the weirdos would come to us. Lego would never doubt the accuracy of my blog again. The men out in Manchester wouldn't let me down.

And they didn't. Step forward Mr Cliche...

This is the guy that approaches you and asks if you and your friend are related. Or in this case, it was more like...

'Ello booootiful laydeeezz. You are seesters yesss? Yesss you must be seesters. You ave thee same boooootiful face.'

Now this happens to me all the time. Taggart and I are forever getting it. Either I'm a shapeshifter and can transform myself to look like whatever friend I'm out with, or guys think it is a good line.

In this case I'm sure it was all about the latter, because Lego and I look nowt alike. She is all blonde and nordic, whereas I'm dark and, if I believed everything I'm told, look a bit Spanish, Thai, Chinese, Indian and like Elvis.

To be fair to the guy though, we are both female so he probably had a point.

'Yes we are sisters' we tell him.

No, I don't know why we were encouraging him either.

'I knew theess. You are tweeens yesss?'

'Yes we are.'

Taxi for Lego and Rapunzel.

Well, at this point you would have thought we had just told him he'd won the lottery. His expression suggested all his Christmasses had come at once. He clearly felt sure that he was 'in'.

I really, really, really don't understand this.

Not only because this guy looked like Danny DeVito. But shorter. He probably didn't get much opportunity to be 'in' anywhere, very often. Particularly with twins.

More because like I said, this has happened before. After replying in the affirmative when a Greek barman asked Taggart and I if we were twins, we got an invitation to his home. And he certainly didn't just want us to taste his moussaka.

Now it seemed that Mr DeVito's thoughts were heading along the same tangent.

Do twins ever actually do this?

Do they enjoy a bit of tete´-a-tete´-a-tete´?

What about sisters? Do they?

Only having a male sibling, I've no idea. It was bad enough when I borrowed an old phone of his and found texts on it from a girl saying exactly what she wanted to do to him. Eurgh, that's my brother!!! Minging.

If anyone has any thoughts on/experience in, this matter then feel free to let me know.

It certainly gives a new dimension to the term 'spending time with the family.'

Wednesday, 9 December 2009

18 Too Many Bloggers...


I'm not having much luck with this online dating malarkey.

A fellow blogger called Bamberio seemed to think so too. She suggested I go on a date with a guy whose blog she'd been reading.

Plentymorefishoutofwater was also writing about his dating experiences (the difference being that he was actually having some) and Bamberio thought it would be just 'brilliant' if me and him went on a date and blogged about it afterwards.

Now Bamberio's own blog is about rugby players so I presumed she must know stuff about men. She seemed convinced her idea, was a great idea. She even mentioned buying a hat...

I contacted Mr Fish to ask if he was aware he was being pimped out? He didn't seem to care and also seemed to think us going on a date might be a good idea.

I wasn't convinced though...

How can a blogger dating a blogger ever be a good idea?

No matter what happened on the date we'd have to blog about it. We wouldn't be able to help ourselves.

If one liked the other more than the other liked them, it would be blogged about.
If neither of us liked each other, it would be blogged about.
Even if it went really well, it would be blogged about.

Every flipping thing would be blogged about.

We'd constantly be trying to out-blog each other.

Wouldn't it be a case of too many bloggers spoiling the...er...spoiling things...?

I just didn't know what to do. So I dithered...and I dithered...and I dithered some more...

I dithered for so long that it appears that Mr Fish got fed up and started pursuing a hairdresser with a green thong.

Of course that's when going out with him suddenly seemed like the best idea I'd ever heard.

Why is it that we become interested in someone when they're no longer interested in us? It's nature's cruel trick.

It had happened to me before. I'd been on a night out in Amsterdam and my friends and I were trying to teach ourselves to pole dance in the middle of a busy bar (there was a pole there obviously.) A Dutch guy seemed to like my moves and wanted to talk to me in guttural and tell me I was lekker ding. I was far too busy trying to become Fantasia Sparkletush or something to pay him any attention though.

So what did he do? He went and sucked face with the toilet attendant, that's what.

Weirdly that's when I decided I wanted him. To hell with the pole! (I wasn't doing very well at mastering it anyway.)

It was too late though. He wasn't interested in me anymore. I had nothing to offer him. I couldn't get him into the toilets for free - you need to pay to visit many toilets in Holland, even in bars. You spend far more than a penny. It can make for an expensive night. He was actually being sensible in his choice of snog.

I couldn't compete.

Same now. I can't cut hair and I don't wear green thongs.

What do you get when you cross a blogger with a blogger?
I've no idea, I was too busy dithering to find out.



http://studsonthe22.blogspot.com/
http://plentymorefishoutofwater.blogspot.com/