Post-Joe Post-Mortem

Music: Girls and Boys - Blur

I told my work mate Mick about the lingering kiss from Joe, but since it happened I am almost doubting whether it actually did or not. Did I imagine it to be more than it was or did Joe try to kiss me?

Oh I don’t know anymore. Either way, when I relived the moment and described it to Mick I could see his face light up and his eyes twinkle, partly because he had almost predicted it but mostly because he now had some brilliant material to wind me up with for months and months. The wanker. I suppose that as a married man he has to get his kicks from somewhere and I seem to be an easy target. If only he knew what happened with me and Foxy Scott!

On hearing my news, Mick went into overdrive.

“Ha ha! I knew it!” Mick exclaimed loudly so the entire office could hear him. “I knew that Joe always had a soft spot for you.”

I slid down my chair and inwardly cringed.

“Just imagine,” Mick continued as he stared into the mid-distance. “You and Joe start a passionate affair, and after only a couple of months you move into his palatial mansion and give up work to start podding out babies. I can see it now: baby Tarquin in one arm and baby Fifi in the other. Of course, you can afford to give up work as Joe earns so much he can probably afford to wipe his arse on £50 notes. It sounds perfect. Don’t forget who saw it all coming first. I’ll expect a seat on the top table at the wedding.”

“Ha ha very amusing Mick,” I replied, “But that’s not happening anywhere other than in the twisted fantasyland that is your brain.”

“Ooh, get you,” Mick chided in an overly gay fashion. “Well, let’s just see what happens with you two on the next work’s night out. You could share a taxi back to his maybe? A couple of drinks, who knows…?”

“Shhh, will you be quiet!” I whispered to Mick.

I didn’t want everyone to hear my business, let alone make them think that something was happening with me and Joe.

As Mick babbled on I could see that Dan’s ears had pricked up and that he was taking it all in. Fortunately, unlike everyone, else he knows what Mick is like (and is my friend) so I wasn't worried about him spreading any gossip.  Usually he would be piling in with the wind ups but he kept out of it, I guess because he doesn't really know Joe very well...

But why did I decide to tell Mick about Joe when I knew he’d make me the butt of all his jokes? I’m struggling to remember. Oh yeah, it was to get a second opinion as to whether the lingering kiss on the cheek actually meant something. Not that Mick has any clue. Blokes are rubbish at that sort of thing, so I guess I’ve just embarrassed myself and received no real insight.

Great.

Must turn my attention back to internet dating.  I can hardly wait...

The Call

Music:  Hanging on the telephone - Blondie

There’s not much going on in my uninspiring hotel tonight so I’ve been lying on my bed and absent mindedly channel hopping through the paltry selection of TV on offer. So far there isn’t much that grabs my attention and they don’t even have Sky Sports. In a word: crap.

I ended up settling on a documentary about the life of giant anteaters on an obscure channel. Not exactly my bag, but it was preferable to a snoretastic programme about cowboy builders or John Nettles solving yet another grisly murder in the sleepy village of Midsomer. I was starting to consider a spot of bean flicking to pass the time, when my phone skipped along the bedside table as it vibrated to life.

It was a message from Craig.

So did u get lost runnin again 2nite? Haha! Do u fancy meetin 4 a drink on Sat if ur not doin anythin? X

See what I mean about his grammar?

But that aside, he has just asked me out ON A DATE!  Eek!

As it happens I’ve not got anything planned this weekend apart from visiting my poorly Grandma again, so I sent him the following reply:

I’m visiting my family on Sunday but other than that have no plans.  I’d love to go out for a few drinks ;-) x

Then, about half a minute after sending that message my phone rings. I look at the caller display and my heart leaps into my mouth.

It is Craig.

Gulp.

I answer my phone.

“Hello,” I say cautiously.

“Hi,” says the male voice at the other end of the line. “I just thought I’d give you a quick call to see how you’re doing.”

His voice is warm, with the thick Lancastrian accent that I love.

“Oh I’m good thanks. Just a bit bored in this hotel room all on my own!” I reply.

Believe it or not, this is me flirting. Craig had already expressed his wish to ‘keep me amused’ in my lonely hotel room after I sent him a saucy photo of me just wearing a bra the other night. He’s not so brazen on the phone though.

“Oh well, you’ll be out of there soon,” he replies.

Oh well, I tried.

We make small talk for about ten minutes, and I manage to hold myself together to have a semi-normal, semi-giggly-with-nerves conversation with him. I think it took some guts on his part to call me, as so far teenage text messages have been the only method of communication. The conversation flows easily enough and he actually sounds really, really nice.

I can sense that the conversation is coming to an end, but before it does, the real reason for his call becomes apparent.

“So, this Saturday night...” Craig ventures, “are you OK to come over to Preston again? I know it’s a pain, but my parents are away and I’ve got to work on Sunday morning and check up on all the sites.”

“Oh that’s fine,” I reply. “I was coming over on Sunday anyway so I’ll just come over on Saturday instead.”

“Oh great!” Craig replies. “I really want to see you but I was worried that coming over here again would be a pain.”

Bless him, but does he not read his text messages?  I’d already told him about my trip back home.  One black mark for lack of attentiveness.

“Yeah, it will be good to see you too,” I reply.

I don’t have the heart to mention the fact that I have no idea what he looks like.

“So, where shall we meet then?” he asks. “It might be best if you pick,” he continues, “as I don’t really go into Preston that much.”

Ah, that old chestnut: the bloke ‘thoughtfully’ letting the woman pick the venue.

“Oh, er. I don’t know.” I say.

I haven’t lived in Preston for years, so how am I supposed to know where’s cool and where’s crap? The only places I know are all the dodgy places I used to go about ten years ago.

“Er, how about Revolution bar?” I suggest.

It’s a safe bet I think, as it is tucked away on a side street but is still busy enough without being too packed.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Craig replies. “Shall we meet there at 8?”

“Yes, 8 o’clock is fine,” I reply. “So I’ll see you then!”

“Yep, see you then!” he replies.

“Right then.” I say.

I want to say something suggestive or flirty, but somehow I just can’t manage it.

“See you Saturday.” Craig replies. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” I reply, before I end the call.

Phew.

That was surprisingly easy.

I’m pleased that Craig and I have spoken to each other before we meet up, as it has put some of my fears to rest. He sounds really down to earth on the phone. A little bit shy and nervous maybe, but in a direct contrast to his text messages he is eloquent and well spoken, and sounds very, very sexy.

I just hope that I recognise him when I see him. I’m sure that some part of my subconscious mind will remember him and be able to pick him out in a crowded bar. I hope so, as otherwise this might well be the shortest date of my life.

Oh shit.  It's Valentine's weekend.

The Perfect 10

Music: 10/10 - Paolo Nutini

First things first, and with my new approach to the dating game I need to be clear on what I'm looking for.

I know that over the years I’ve been selling myself short with the blokes I’ve dated and been in relationships with. I’m not supermodel good looking, but I’m by no means a hairy swamp donkey either. I think it must be down to a confidence thing, as through my teenage years and twenties I seemed to fall into the same pattern every time before getting together with a new man:


• I’m single for a while and decide I don’t want to be.
• I drunkenly snog someone, rush into it too fast, and before I know it we’re an item.
• It invariably goes wrong and I end it with them because there is a glaring incompatibility.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that:

Loneliness + Several vodkas = An Inappropriate Man in my Life

This is something that I’m not proud of.

I know there are men out there who match what I am looking for. I know this as THE man, my perfect man exists.

He is Dan Carter. The Perfect Package off the pitch. The Perfect 10 on it.

Hello!

Dan is a rugby playing Adonis who plays for the New Zealand All Blacks rugby union team and wears the number 10 shirt. Most rugby fans will agree that he is the best Number 10 in the world at the moment, and I’d even go as far as saying that he’s the best rugby player in the world full stop. Oh, and did I mention that he is completely and utterly drop dead gorgeous? Dan has arms to die for and muscles in all the right places. He is tanned, toned and sexy but still somehow maintains his boyish charm.

In order to find my version of Dan Carter, I need work out just what it is about him that has got me so hooked. I need to break down his qualities to see the things I really want in a man, and from now on I won’t settle for less. So here goes. Here is my list of man requirements:

The Perfect 10

1. Looks

Dan has the body of a god and the world’s most amazing arms.

I’m not being shallow (OK, yes I am) but looks and attractiveness are the first things I notice about a man. I’ve got to fancy him even if I don’t realise I do straight away. And I fancy Dan. A lot. So this is number one on my list.

2. Sense of humour.

If I’m not able to laugh with my boyfriend then I don’t see the point really, so a similar sense of humour is really important. I have no idea what tickles Dan’s funny bone but sense of humour is crucial, so it’s in at number 2.

3. Being down to earth.

I’ve been out with guys who have an over inflated amount of self importance and men who’ve had their heads stuck in the clouds. Neither of these are great and both piss me off, so that’s something to avoid. Dan always seems modest and really down to earth in interviews so it’s added to the list.

4. Loyalty and Trust

Cheating is a big no-no. I need and deserve to be with someone who is 100% loyal and honest with me at all times. Trust is a must (cheesy but true). Have you ever heard any kiss and tell stories about Dan? Nope, me neither.

5. Kindness

I don’t want to go out with someone who treats me like shit or like the lesser person in the relationship. I’ve been there before and it killed my self esteem. Now I’m back to the “me” I know I am with my confidence returned I am determined not to let this happen again. Therefore I am looking for someone who is kind, caring and will look after me a little bit too. Preferably with big, strong arms to wrap around me.

6. Has a strong sense of family

I suppose this is increasingly rare nowadays, but if a man’s parents are still together and happily in love (like my parents are) then I think this is something that their children aspire to as well. Not always, but most of the time I think this is true. Family is really important to me and if I have children I would ideally like to do this within a loving family environment so if I’m setting out to get my ideal then this has got to be part of it.

7. Solvency.

This is also pretty important. No offence, but who wants to be with a man that doesn’t know his arse from his overdraft and can’t support himself financially? Dan the man can, especially with his advertising campaign for a certain underpants range. (I can’t see an overdraft but I can definitely see his rather lovely derriere).

Nice.

8. Ambition and a drive to succeed

This is really important to me. I don’t mind so much what a man has ambition to do, but I hate people who coast along in life with no focus.

Dan plays rugby for his country. Cheeeck.

9. Different Interests.

Living in each other’s pockets is not fun. I think that shared interests are crucial, but so are individual ones. Go off and play golf and I’ll happily trot off down the shops and lust over some handbags.

10. Romance

Not all the time so that I’m spewing up into my cornflakes whilst he recites me a love poem, but a little bit of love and romance goes a long way. I’ve been out with a bloke who was good at the romance but was rubbish everywhere else and the relationship lasted longer than it probably should because of all the tingly romantic feelings.

(And I bet Dan buys his girlfriend flowers and is really good at writing romantic cards).



Oh, and one final thing which didn’t quite make it to the top ten:

Must be a good kisser.

I bet you thought I was going to say “Mind Blowing Sex” in didn’t you? Well I didn’t, and for one very good reason. I’m not necessarily going to jump straight into bed with a bloke that I meet (although I might, you never know) however I’m much more likely to kiss him pretty early on. If a bloke is crap at kissing then I am pretty sure he will more than likely be crap in bed.

I should know: I’ve been there. He wasn’t very good at thw whole kissing thing so I should have expected it I suppose, but as he disappeared under the duvet my mojo was unceremoniously dampened by his super-fast, speed-circling tongue which assaulted me like a tumble dryer on a spin cycle and not in a good way. He shall remain nameless.

So there they are: my man requirements. Am I asking for too much? Well, if I’m talking about getting together with Dan Carter, then yes. As for a bloke like him? I don’t think that I am. After all, I’m sure there are men out there that fill my criteria who I would find funny and engaging, and who would also see me as their perfect match. If they have arms of steel and happen to enjoy wearing shorts and rolling around a muddy rugby pitch – well that would be a big bonus! I am determined that this year my romantic life is going to be different as I’m going to be aware of what I really, truly want and who is right and good enough for me. Gone are the years of wasting time, tears and push up bras on unsuitable men who either aren’t right or who are in it for the wrong reasons.

So with all this in mind, here starts my new approach to dating and something of an experiment for the coming year.

Here’s the challenge: One Year. One List. The search for The Perfect 10

So this is Me...

Music: Wild Young Hearts - Noisettes

This year is going to be a very good year. Sod the mourning of my twenties! I might look a bit older but inside I still feel like I’m 25... Just a more confident, sexier and switched on 25 that’s all...


Hello I’m Kate, I’m newly single and in a few month's time I hit the big 3-0.

Gulp.

So why am I still picking up meals for one at the supermarket at the ripe old age of 29 I hear you ask?  Well that's a bit of a long story, but one I'll tell you soon.  Generally speaking, the reality is that I spent my twenties having way too much fun with a string of men that were, well, lots of fun - with the exception of the one bloke that broke my heart.  My romantic shenanigans and random dating made it all but impossible for any of the usual marriage and babies stuff to materialise before I turn thirty in a few months time, not that I'm overly bothered about it in all honesty.  Everything happens for a reason, right?  It's just that I just haven't found my Mr. Right.  Well, not yet, anyway.

Whilst things might not have panned out as I might have imagined when I was younger, I’ve definitely had plenty of fun during the last ten years and I have few regrets. My twenties were filled with all the things you might expect - like hedonistic drinking, going to university and making some lifelong friends, travelling to fantastic places on a budget so tight it would make my tight-fisted bank manager look generous, and somehow managing to survive a couple of long term relationships along the way. I also have to admit that I enjoyed the occasional sordid and utterly fantastic fling, and (don’t read this Mum) satisfied myself with the odd bit of casual sex.

Now with only a few months left with my age starting with the number “2” I’ve realised that the hard bit should really be over. After spending my early twenties either getting lost in filing cabinets or scraping up dog poo (not my most glamorous job!) I’ve moved on from all the 'crappy' dead end jobs and now I have a ok-ish career.  Well, it keeps me in nice handbags.  My friends are brilliant, and finally as an almost thirty year old I don’t feel the need to impress the cool kids, the unattainable men or the stick thin girls anymore as I’ve realised that actually, you know, I’m not that bad.

Therefore, it’s with this new mindset of confidence and happiness that I enter singledom this time, and if I’m honest I’m actually really looking forward getting out there and showing the world the me that I really want them to see.

I might as well say this now as there’s no point in denying it: I am looking for the perfect guy, my perfect guy, and this is the year that I am going to find him.

Yeah. yeah, go on have a laugh!  The perfect man doesn't exist, right?  Well yes I'd be inclined to agree with you, but I'm looking for the man who is as perfect for me as possible, and that doesn't include the usual suspects who tend to use their personality as a contraceptive or have ridiculous amounts of ear-hair.

Don’t get me wrong being single is great, but I’ve been there and done that and I’m going to be thirty in a few months. To be brutally honest, I don’t really have time to mess around anymore. This time I have to play smart and focus on what I want, which is handy as for the first time ever I think I know what that is...

Therefore, as dull as it might sound practicality is my new keyword, as if I don’t know what I want then how am I ever going to stand a chance of finding it? Unlike when I was twenty two and fresh out of university, I don’t have limitless amounts of time to waste on men who aren’t right for me, especially if I do want a couple of rug rats running about in a few years...

So this is where this blog comes in.  I've come up with a list, or the Perfect 10, which I'm going to use to guide me through the dating minefield and help me to the find the man I've been half-heartedly looking for all these years.  Obviously I haven't been able to find him as I've been somewhat distracted by Pedro and his perfectly pert peach of an arse.  Or something.

I'm just adding a few final touches to my Perfect 10 list, which is coming up next...

The Beginning...

I watched intently as he stood still, catching his breath. Hands on his hips. His muscular arms were gently tanned and his shirt clung to his sculpted biceps, beads of sweat prickling on his skin. Through his shirt you could see the definition of his torso: the undulation of abs, broad, strong shoulders and his arms. His amazing arms. His thighs were toned and equally tanned and his legs were perfection. He ran his hand through his short dark hair leaving it ruffled and messy then wiped the sweat from his forehead. Briefly rested he was ready to go again.


He was watching, ever carefully and waiting for his moment. Walking quickly he broke into a jog.  Pointing ahead he shouted his instructions, arms and legs now beginning to pump as his pace increased into a run. The material in his shirt was like a second skin and as his body moved every ripple was visible. Every muscle was in perfect synchronisation, powering forward and yet he made it all look so effortless. His face was of total concentration as he neared his opponent, stepping left then right like a dancer, arm gripping his prize and pushing away anyone who dared to try and take it from him. His arms and legs pumped faster, he was going to make it, every sinew straining to reach the goal. The noise was unbearable. A cacophony of voices rose and surrounded him. Thousands of faces focussed on his every move. He was almost there. I watched enthralled, edging closer. He drove his body over the line and skidded into the dirt.

And there he was. Victorious.

His face broke out into a beaming smile as he looked up, his boyish good looks edged with sexiness. Despite the mud in his hair and smeared all over his face he was perfection.

I ran towards him and he got to his feet. We stood looked at each other before he grabbed me and pulled me towards him. His amazing arms were holding me, wrapped around me. I was getting mud all over my coat but I didn’t care. I lifted my face and he kissed me gently on my lips. He was about to speak, when we were interrupted by the noise of a shrill, screeching whistle...

It was half time and I had drifted off into my favourite daydream again. I sighed. Time to watch the half time analysis and his incredible try all over again.

I also knew it was time for me to snap out of it and get real.

Music:  Dreaming of You - The Coral