Monday, 25 May 2015

Pick Yourself Up, Dust Yourself Off...


Ahhh Friday night's optimism becomes Sunday afternoon's comfort eating. No, Monday afternoon's. (Frickin' Bank Holidays!) At least I have a rehearsal this evening to break the silent solitude.

So how are you doing then? Good? Good.

*awkward cough*

Oh OK, OK... I give in. I suppose you are wondering how The Date went? If the title of this entry didn't already answer your question, you'd better read this: 

I was really excited, knowing I was going to spend a bit of time with someone single and straight, who I already knew I liked enough to meet, and vice versa. All I did on Saturday morning was get up and begin to get ready. The deliciousness of the weather prompted me to walk into town (the long way). This also meant no fancy clothing concoctions, as it's not pleasant trudging several km in heels. I went for my wafty walking uniform - long dress, crochet bingo wing-hider, sensible-but-pretty sandals. Hair in a bunch, touch of eyeliner, nothing more - part of Being Myself. 
Nervous pre-date Lizzie
Feeling the warmth of Spring on my legs and the fresh, invigorating air, I was almost annoyed that I had couldn't spend more time wallowing in it. I was accompanied by an earful of gig music, in preparation for the evening, but that wasn't helping me to stay calm. So I bunged on some Debussy and chilled out to the strains of Clair de Lune, somewhat incongruous in the sunshiney morning with sheep shouting at each other in the background.

I felt great as I neared the town - confident, attractive, optimistic - but was hanging off my wristwatch: Ten minutes, five minutes, no minutes... no agreed text that he'd arrived. Was I going to be stood up? Maybe the traffic was hideous - bank holiday Saturday on the M5 is no picnic. (OK, it is a picnic - inside your car, as you slither forwards at 5mph wondering why you bothered to leave the house.) Suddenly, a message pinged onto my phone. He was parked and mobile. We met under the... the... what is that thing in the centre? Is it the town hall? Under that. I bounded towards him (thank you Liszt for the mood music) and the date began.

He was lovely and tall, and not bad-looking. In fact, I had a little belly flip of excitement. But I of all people know that that doesn't account for much, it's just a first impression. He was a decade older than me, but carrying it off beautifully - you'd never have guessed his age from his face. I could see it later though, in the way he behaved. His first comment was that I looked summery. I laughed and replied:
"Mffle wrgs rgrgrghh ngghhhh" in an intelligent way. So much I could have said here that would have been erudite or girly, and that was all I managed! Calling upon my vows of honesty to furnish me with words I said:
"I'm sorry, but I'm incredibly nervous!"
"Well I'm incredibly hungry," was his response.

I think that sums it up really.

Imagine an old-fashioned balance, like the Libra scales. One dish is YES and one is NO. Now imagine that everything that happens is a weight going into either dish, until the balance is tipped one way or another. That's the way it goes when you meet someone. You start out with neutral feelings. As you get to know them, the weights pile up. If you are lucky, they mostly land in the YES dish, leading to a point where you realise that you like this person, and they will probably be part of your life for a bit longer. The opposite may also occur. Sometimes the weights will stack up very quickly. If that happens on the positive side, you're looking at serious chemistry! Also, some of the weights are heavier than others. For example, when he said he had children and that they lived with him most of the time... CLUNK into the NO side. But when he made a joke about something-or-other (which I can't remember at all now, so it wasn't that significant), TING into YES. I don't have time to nip onto PagePlus and do a graphic! I'm sure you've got the analogy.

His NO side filled up steadily throughout:

* "I love Formula One"
* Driving a really new, white Audi A3...
*... incredibly slowly around country lanes
* Every time he mentioned a recording artist that I had never heard of
* The "music" we listened to in his car
* Saying "Oh yes, tweet tweet" when I commented on how beautiful the birdsong was
* Telling me story after dull story, which did have points and were sometimes interesting, but were a long time coming
* Asking little to nothing about me, then making me feel like he wasn't listening when I was telling him.
* Talking politics.
* Playing a game called Ingress, which involves creating portals with your phone, only you actually go to places to do this. The upshot of which is that you arrive in an area of stunning beauty (such as Uley, to where we drove for a drink,) then spend all your time with your face in the screen instead of looking at, oo I don't know, ANYTHING ELSE. (Actually, I found the concept of the game intriguing, but I didn't see the connotations immediately.)

Oh man, it isn't fair of me to pick on him. He did manage to get some content in his YES dish. He was attractive. His height was really appealing. (Though any git can be tall, I suppose.) The funniest bit was where I bet him 10p he would get baked bean juice from his brekky onto his impossibly white trousers (White trousers???  NO). We put our coins on the table, and I lost hideously. He claimed his prize and high-fived his victory. It was all daft and it made me laugh. Sadly those moments were few and further between as time passed.

Don't forget that his own scale would have been doing the same. I imagine I lost lots of marks for being myself, which is fine because - as I am going to bang on repeatedly until I get it - what is the point in pretending? I found myself talking a lot about the way I looked. I've only noticed this on reviewing the date. God, I don't think I'm really that self-absorbed, am I? (She asks, while writing a blog all about herself...) But I do have a lot of hang-ups, many related to the physical. Living alone kind of magnifies this.

All this aside, I thought he liked me. He stuck around for ages, and said goodbye warmly, almost affectionately. I went off to my gig feeling positive and a bit crazy. I didn't care that I had crowbarred myself into ridiculously tight plastic trousers, or that there were fewer than ten people forming our audience, including the bar staff. We gave ourselves to the Forces of Rock!

The Forces of Rock got me into those trousers. Them, and a shoe horn. 
(https://www.facebook.com/pages/Wango-Jango/655145284619335 - to see vids from the night)

I tried to message him a bit during the evening, but his replies weren't forthcoming. I did receive a couple, with a tone flatter than my un-brassiered chest. The next day I still felt possibility, but with no further responses, I imagined he did not. In the end, I made my mind up to ask a direct question. Rip the Elastoplast of truth right off the hairy armpit of doubt in one go. Give me that sting now! Let me know either way, I said. Don't leave a girl dangling, I said.

He didn't. The word "Sorry!" and the phrase "Yesterday was under lovely," (though that could have been a typo, but I can't think of what he meant to put,) plus some other brief but firm statements sorted it out. I said "Not to worry, good luck with it all, bye!" and then came gravity's rush, and the cold linoleum of rejection hit my cheek with its oh-too-familiar "thwack".

How conflicting is that? No chemistry; little in common - obviously nothing was going to come from this. And yet all I can do is question what I did wrong? Was it the way I looked that put him off? Was it worrying about the way I looked that put him off?? (That's a big fat yes. I may have wobbliferous thighs, but I'm not stupid...) I think I was surprised that he'd picked up on the finer points, having appeared to barely notice me the whole time. (That's another NO clunk right there - emotionally a closed book.) I'm a bit cross with me for being upset. Rejection always hurts, I suppose. There is also pain from having been given a glimpse of the way things could be. A distant memory of what it is like to be loved resurfaced, and I experienced this huge sense of relief. The knowledge that someone wants you, and is counting the minutes until they can touch your face again... but that you feel the same way about them. Oh, it doesn't come along very often. Not for me. If you are one of the lucky ones who has that, revel in it! Don't let it fade. We are a long time dead

But look - it's saved me the worry of working out how to reject him while also considering his feelings. It's given me fuel for writing, and I'm not bothered about how frank I can be. I don't have to listen to F1 cars going NYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW in the background while I put his white trousers in the wash and call the kids down to their dinner! Most importantly, it's given me the chance to understand more clearly what it is I actually want: about who I am, and the sort of person who is going to improve my life by being in it.

For example, I know now that I need romance. I need a chap who finds me gorgeous, and tells me so; who wants to look at me and finds pleasure in giving me pleasure. Which would be exactly the way I would feel about him. I knew my date owned a cat, so (following the recommendations of my sisters' mog Jaffa) I purchased some nibbles for said pet, as an ice-breaker. Not flowers, not chocolates, but duck-flavoured Dreamies. Yet when I presented them to him, he was more startled than grateful. My YES dish on his scale didn't even wobble. What a waste of good Dreamies. Jaffa, forgive me!

My guy would have to notice his surroundings too. Yesterday was a cracker - the best, beautifullest, brightest day of the year so far. Sunshine, bluebells, such birdsong!! How could anyone be ignorant of that? Yet we walked from the pub to Uley churchyard, not to actually look at Uley churchyard, but so he gather a point or two on his computer game! Then we left. We drove around the splendid English countryside, putting on its best display, and he was babbling about faith school funding with weird prog rock blaring from his car speakers, drowning out everything except, sadly, his voice.

I love music, but making it more than watching it. If I hear something I like, I can't help but sing it. I SING. My bloke is going to need to be able to sing along somehow, not necessarily in a literal sense. Musical theatre groups are what I do. I perform on stages, in pubs, on street corners. (Not that sort of performance. Tch.) Whoever I'm with has GOT to be OK with that, and even more - they've got to want to be part of it in some way. Watching, or helping, or (be still my beating, hopeful heart) performing too. Be someone who gets up and does things.

I learned, through our "conversation", that I am not materialistic in the slightest, but I'm aware that I need to be working harder to earn more money so I can live. I am creative, immensely so. My house IS scattered with boxes and piles and drawersful of Things To Make Other Things With (that I won't necessarily use, but will enjoy the possibilities that they possess). I am the sort of girl who enjoys browsing recycle stores and charity shops. This is me and I am proud of that.

Argh it's no good, I can't concentrate on working today. I can't concentrate on anything. I feel that my pride has been burned by all this, and my heart is heavy. I have had a quick look on the GS website, mainly to change my profile slightly and add a new picture from the gig. The site tells you who viewed you, and this information appears chronologically. So if someone looks at you again, their picture comes to the fore. I noticed that my weekend date's pic was first in the row, meaning that he'd viewed my profile again, which did surprise me. I imagined it was to make absolutely sure he was done with it. Now, if you see someone on the site whom you like, you click a "like" button, similar to Facebook. That's how we first noticed each other - a mutual clicking. However, just as on FB, you can "unlike" somebody. I noticed the number of Chaps Who Like Me had gone down, so I had a look, and yes - he no longer likes me. I returned the favour, blocking him and hiding him, and deleting his number from my phone. I'm trying to forget the whole sad thing. While at the same time, climbing straight back onto the horse that threw me.

I can see this being a long and painful journey.

Dating website stats so far:

Men who've viewed my profile: 73
Men whose profiles I've viewed: 79
I like: 16
Like me: 12
Mutual likes: 1 (was 2 - see above) Neither me nor this other guy have contacted each other yet. I was leaving it to him, as I made the first move the last time. 
Messages I've sent to chaps that I haven't had a reply from: 8
Messages chaps have sent to me that I haven't replied to 'cos the bloke in question isn't really what I am looking for: 3
Chaps who liked me that I have blocked because they are clearly unsuitable, barely being able to speak English and living in different continents: 2
Chaps who have viewed my profile after seeing that I have viewed theirs, or "liked" them, who have subsequently not got in touch in any way: Lost count
Ongoing messaging threads: 0 (was 1, but we know what happened there...)
Dates: 1

Am I being too picky? Should I be pickier?

I've only been registered since 14th May, and signed up a week before that, so I suppose it's early days. On the site, one sees the pictures first, along with a user name and an age. So maybe my picture is not reeling 'em in! Once you click on a pic, you then get to read the profile and look at other pictures. You've seen my images (in Meet Me On the Corner). Here are the words that go with them:  

Well hello to you!  That IS a nice outfit you’re wearing.
It's a bit creased, mind. You could have ironed…
er, no… no, it’s all right. Please don’t get up. I'll squint.

I’m just a girl, looking for a bloke: Someone who likes things I like and values things I value; Someone who approaches life from the same angle as me; Someone to learn from, who would also enjoy being taught; Someone tall, who would be great company and fun to be with; Someone to love, and to be loved by.

As you can tell, I am not very demanding.

I also do sarcasm, but only in the previous sentence.

You need more?
Well, I'm incredibly open and honest.
I'm always ready with a merry quip or a comforting word to suit the occasion (and several that don't - e.g. the now legendary Flat Pack Coffin remark of 2003...)
I'm also a little miffed that it's come to this - selling myself to strange men on the internet using only pictures and words. However, needs must as the devil expectorates in your physiognomy.

So, if you’re looking for a puzzle-compiling, gig-playing, biscuit-baking, larynx-twanging, show-directing, Facebook-using, chocolate-munching, MS Excel-excelling, stage-performing, outdoor-walking, quiz-setting, meditation-learning, harmony-singing, straight-talking, guitar-strumming, charity shop-browsing, yoga-partaking, kitchen-pottering, Grade 8 recorder tooter with a biochemistry degree, who enjoys Red Dwarf, League of Gentlemen, Dickens, Pratchett, Viz and Die Hard; a punctuation fan, whose ambition is to have Alexander Armstrong congratulate her on a Pointless answer; a pantomime-writing music lover, and future Nobel Literature Prize winner* with an eclectic iPod selection, a head full of ideas and a big heart – then I’m your girl!

And if you managed to get to this point of my profile and I still haven't scared you, message me and I'll try a bit harder...

*No responsibility can be taken for me not making the shortlist. Or not having a book published. Or not actually writing one.

They are very similar to the ones used on Match.com. Maybe they aren't suitable for GS? If you know me, you'll be more informed as to whether they paint a good picture of who I am. I think they do, and therefore my concern is that I am scaring men away, as I have done for a lot of my life. I have to be true to myself as a date would find out soon enough if I wasn't. Being true to myself in spite of this.  

Also, here is what I am looking for, updated with what I learned recently:

Height is always good (I'm 5' 9" without shoes on...) Hair is nice, but not a deal-breaker. Both would be mere icing on a kind, caring cake, with whom I would have more chemistry than Mendeleev's dreams. 

Music rules my life - I play, I sing, I perform; I help others to play, sing and perform too; I listen, I learn, I sing some more. I am highly self-aware. I notice my surroundings and adore the countryside. Breathing in fresh air, hearing birdsong, absorbing beauty and spontaneous days. Conversations involving two-way speaking and listening. Old-fashioned romance lights me up inside - giving and receiving in as equal amounts as possible. I love to laugh and I don't take life too seriously.

These things are so important to me, to have someone to share them with would be more than I could wish for.

Reading my fellow Soulmates' profiles sometimes makes me cry. I feel as sorry for them as I do for myself. I hope I can see a happy side to this again soon.

To summarise, it's not quite Square One that I am back to. Square One Point One, perhaps. I am prepared for a lot more of this shit, and thanks to #01, I am much more aware of what to expect from this dating lark. Though I'm subdued now, I know that that feeling of crazy empowerment is within me all the time, ready to be unleashed, and that keeps my flame of hope flickering away, as always.

Will there be enough chocolate in the fridge to get Lizzie through to Tuesday morning? Have there been any bites on the Soulmate hook since this post was written? Has Lizzie nailed the alto part to New York, New York, or will it be tuneless note-stabbing in the back row again? Has anyone seen the flying f*** that nobody gave? Sigh. Happy Bank Holiday folks  




1 comment:

  1. G'day Lizzie. Sorry to hear that your date flopped like the proverbial rag doll. Thanks for your brilliant singing in the Shutter Inn on Saturday night. Certainly deserving of a much larger audience. Hopefully I can encourage a greater community participation in the Shutter Inn live music nights in the future. if it's any consolation, I bore witness to the flying f**k yesterday. Looking forward to hearing your music again. Take care and keep on keeping on. There's some lucky bloke out there just waiting for the opportunity to share your world. Clinton x

    ReplyDelete