Speed Dating and Projectile Vomit
Speed Dating and Projectile Vomit: Still bored shitless.
I went speed dating again with the Goat. I was still pretty bored.
There was a problem with my speed dating registration which resulted in me arriving late. I missed 5 “dates” but something ells me I wasn’t actually missing much.
The hardest part of speed dating is admitting that you need speed dating in order to meet someone. Once you get over that, you’re good.
I’m extremely loquacious. I can talk to anyone about anything. So I have no fear of talking to guys. As far as speed dating goes, bring it on. Let’s see if there’s a guy who can take me on.
Sadly, I find a lot of guys to be boring. Deadly boring. I don’t mean to sound conceited, but I’m an expat. I’ve traveled the world – twice. I’ve been on tour with rock stars. I’ve lived in three different countries and have had some amazing sex in my life. Do I really want to meet Mr. Joe Blow, next-door, never been out of Essex? No! Fuck no.
I need to meet someone exceptional. Someone fantastic. Someone who’s had way more experiences than I have. I’m not talking about sexual experiences. I mean life experiences. Someone who’s had the highest highs and the lowest lows and has really experienced life. I think that’s one reason why I dig Mr. MusicBiz. He’s great. The things he’s accomplished in his life are fantastic. He’s talented, but down to earth. He’s also sexy and great in bed. All in all, what a great combination.
I want to meet someone who’s really taken life by the balls. I want to meet a wild child or reformed wild child. I think what I want, but am reluctant to admit, is that I want someone to tame me. Oh, God, I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Annoyingly, the woman at the next table over was from Orange County (California). I kept getting asked if we were friends and if we came to the event together. It was even more annoying to be asked repeatedly if I too worked at Smith Klien Beecham. Nothing against the company but it sounds like a horribly boring place to work.
Eventually, this chick got wind that I’m from New York. We chatted during one of the breaks. We were saying how dating over here in London is much different than dating in New York or LA. Back in the states, you meet a guy at a bar or party. You give him your number. He calls you (hopefully) then you go out on a date.
Over here in London, you meet at a bar or party. You both get horribly drunk. You end up kissing or more… The next morning you exchange numbers. Later on he’ll call you – Maybe. It seems here, drunkenness facilitates the dating scene. Maybe I’m doing all of this wrong. Maybe I should spend more time drunk?
In any case, the speed dating was OK. There were only two guys there I liked. One of the guys was such a hunk. As he sat down at my table I couldn’t help but look at his arm muscles. Boy oh boy was he fit.
“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked me. He was the Joey Tribbiani type in looks and mental ability.
“I’m good, but I feel a bit cynical about this speed dating thing,” I replied.
He looked at me strangely then said, “What does cynical mean?”
OH MY GOD. He’s a Himbo!
“You know,” I responded, “Skeptical, wary.” I’m pretty sure he didn’t know what those words meant either. He cocked his head to the side and gave me the same look my dog gives me when he doesn’t understand something.
I can’t believe I’m talking to someone with a 3rd grade vocabulary. How can you not know what cynical means? Is the education system in this country really that bad? Note to self: Return to America to educate non-existant kids.
It turns out, the Himbo is a firefighter. He doesn’t use computer much, but he can sort of master Microsoft Word. I wondered, could I actually date someone less intelligent than me? Probably not. But I'd fuck him.
After the Himbo everyone else seemed boring. After the speed dating session was over The Goat and I ate at the restaurant above the bar then hopped on the Piccadilly line to go home. I stepped off the train at Green Park. I somehow felt that speed dating tonight had been disastrous. Why did I waste my time? Why did I subject myself to that? I’m not going to find Mr. Fabulous speed dating, am I?
As I turned to the right a drunk woman getting of the train projectile vomited. It was beyond gross, but commanded a certain skill that I envied. I was inches from getting hit. But as far as the night goes, that was par for the course.
I went speed dating again with the Goat. I was still pretty bored.
There was a problem with my speed dating registration which resulted in me arriving late. I missed 5 “dates” but something ells me I wasn’t actually missing much.
The hardest part of speed dating is admitting that you need speed dating in order to meet someone. Once you get over that, you’re good.
I’m extremely loquacious. I can talk to anyone about anything. So I have no fear of talking to guys. As far as speed dating goes, bring it on. Let’s see if there’s a guy who can take me on.
Sadly, I find a lot of guys to be boring. Deadly boring. I don’t mean to sound conceited, but I’m an expat. I’ve traveled the world – twice. I’ve been on tour with rock stars. I’ve lived in three different countries and have had some amazing sex in my life. Do I really want to meet Mr. Joe Blow, next-door, never been out of Essex? No! Fuck no.
I need to meet someone exceptional. Someone fantastic. Someone who’s had way more experiences than I have. I’m not talking about sexual experiences. I mean life experiences. Someone who’s had the highest highs and the lowest lows and has really experienced life. I think that’s one reason why I dig Mr. MusicBiz. He’s great. The things he’s accomplished in his life are fantastic. He’s talented, but down to earth. He’s also sexy and great in bed. All in all, what a great combination.
I want to meet someone who’s really taken life by the balls. I want to meet a wild child or reformed wild child. I think what I want, but am reluctant to admit, is that I want someone to tame me. Oh, God, I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Annoyingly, the woman at the next table over was from Orange County (California). I kept getting asked if we were friends and if we came to the event together. It was even more annoying to be asked repeatedly if I too worked at Smith Klien Beecham. Nothing against the company but it sounds like a horribly boring place to work.
Eventually, this chick got wind that I’m from New York. We chatted during one of the breaks. We were saying how dating over here in London is much different than dating in New York or LA. Back in the states, you meet a guy at a bar or party. You give him your number. He calls you (hopefully) then you go out on a date.
Over here in London, you meet at a bar or party. You both get horribly drunk. You end up kissing or more… The next morning you exchange numbers. Later on he’ll call you – Maybe. It seems here, drunkenness facilitates the dating scene. Maybe I’m doing all of this wrong. Maybe I should spend more time drunk?
In any case, the speed dating was OK. There were only two guys there I liked. One of the guys was such a hunk. As he sat down at my table I couldn’t help but look at his arm muscles. Boy oh boy was he fit.
“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked me. He was the Joey Tribbiani type in looks and mental ability.
“I’m good, but I feel a bit cynical about this speed dating thing,” I replied.
He looked at me strangely then said, “What does cynical mean?”
OH MY GOD. He’s a Himbo!
“You know,” I responded, “Skeptical, wary.” I’m pretty sure he didn’t know what those words meant either. He cocked his head to the side and gave me the same look my dog gives me when he doesn’t understand something.
I can’t believe I’m talking to someone with a 3rd grade vocabulary. How can you not know what cynical means? Is the education system in this country really that bad? Note to self: Return to America to educate non-existant kids.
It turns out, the Himbo is a firefighter. He doesn’t use computer much, but he can sort of master Microsoft Word. I wondered, could I actually date someone less intelligent than me? Probably not. But I'd fuck him.
After the Himbo everyone else seemed boring. After the speed dating session was over The Goat and I ate at the restaurant above the bar then hopped on the Piccadilly line to go home. I stepped off the train at Green Park. I somehow felt that speed dating tonight had been disastrous. Why did I waste my time? Why did I subject myself to that? I’m not going to find Mr. Fabulous speed dating, am I?
As I turned to the right a drunk woman getting of the train projectile vomited. It was beyond gross, but commanded a certain skill that I envied. I was inches from getting hit. But as far as the night goes, that was par for the course.
posted by Naive London Girl at 11/19/2006 08:29:00 PM
Digg it
2 Comments:
I never feel bored.
Why is it always "Joe" Blow?
Dating someone less intelligent and less educated than yourself can be a bit dull.
I am originally from New York, as well.
The trouble with speed dating when you come from another country is that the 1st minute and a half is always spent "Oh you obviously don't come from round here" type questions
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home