I’m in lust! For more details click here.
The evening date with new man (NM1) was the last one I suspect. He hasn’t made anymore contact and I’m happy for it to slide. It had been a pleasant date at the Tate; the O’Keeffes which I was happy to linger in front of were her landscapes rather than the giant flora she’s more well-known for. He had been quite happy like me when we got to the end of the exhibition to go back and spend more time in the earlier rooms. At a quarter to ten the sky was still tinged by the setting sun and I took a few pictures from one of the Tate’s terraces across the Thames towards St Paul’s. We went out to have some tapas and chat some more but I didn’t feel inclined to kiss him.
A few weeks after that I met up with NM2, Julius, who seems to have the same thoughts as I do re dating: until we find someone we hit off really, really well with, we’ll carry on with this non-monogamous lifestyle where we continue to nurture the relationships with these similarly open-minded members of our opposite sexes. I’d arrived at the pub a few minutes ahead of him and had already got myself an IPA. We managed to find some seating in the small venue which was already getting busy at half six. My first impressions of him were mixed. I’d forgotten that he was considerably older than me and was startled by his silver white hair. But he had kind eyes, an attractive voice, smelt pleasantly normal, was a great deal taller than me, and slim. I invited him to tell me about his two current lovers and how he came to enjoy a non-monogamous lifestyle – it sounded like a similar history to mine! A few minutes after I’d wondered what kissing him would feel like he leaned forward and I found it a very pleasant experience. His kisses are warm, his trendy facial hair surprisingly soft. He and I are going on our second date tomorrow and I feel a little nervous, partly because he seems to expect us to fall into bed with each other, but strangely, I don’t want to rush it. When I communicated my trepidation to him he had been quick to wonder if it was anything he had said to put me off, as it were. Perhaps after the length of time in the dating desert I am now beginning to tread more carefully.
The other men
I’ve let things with Lars and Liam peter out completely. And envisage that the same will probably happen with Jan, Ramon and Goran but hope that these three might remain friends. I had a feeling that Liam might have got a little irritated with me and so it’s just as well it ended. Goran sent me a message when he returned from his holidays but I have not encouraged him to make a date. Ewan mentioned that he may be in London again just after mid August so it’ll be interesting to see how warmly I’ll continue to regard him now that Julius is on the scene.
My interest in sex has also waned slightly (my age catching up on me?) and I welcome this new man, Julius’s comment that he enjoys the intimacy of just lying naked together without necessarily doing more. At the juncture in the underground tunnels we kissed a final lingering moment before going our separate ways. Such a contrast to the date with NM1 earlier in the month when the closest he got was a quick peck on my cheek before jumping onto his train. Chemistry is a complex, almost illogical thing.
In the last several days I’ve been enjoying long distance emailing and messaging with Ewan. There is some banter and good-humoured ripostes. Twice he has paid me fine compliments on my language and vocabulary, which on both occasions put me in good cheer for a period of time.
Yet … at the same time, I’m still on the dating app chatting to a few others and made dates to see a couple of them.
One of the new men I met was an academic who had never been married and took the train into London to meet me. On our first date he said that there was a dearth of suitable women in his own geographical vicinity and he had lied on the dating app because there was a larger number of potential dates in the big smoke. You might think me naive but I believed him – he didn’t look like a two timing, smooth talking philanderer who might have been dissimulating a wife or girl friend at home. He looked slightly unkempt and dishevelled – his long sleeved cotton shirt was creased and his shoes well worn and lived in. He had dark, wavy hair which curled a few inches below his ears, framing a pale face whose strongest features were a combination of deep, dark eyes over cheek bones that marched out sharply. He was tall with a lithe lean body and later he told me that he sometimes missed meals in the middle of the day because what he had been reading was so absorbing that he’d lost all track of time.
He was interesting enough for me to suggest a second date and we spent another three hours in fairly amiable company. But the chemistry just wasn’t there. Although he is five years my junior, I was inclined to associate him, possibly unfairly, with a certain elderly cleric from Middlemarch. And he was possibly intimidated by my non-monogamous lifestyle.
The hot weather saw me cancelling dates I’d provisionally made to meet up with Lars. I have not seen him since last year as we have both been busy being in other places. He had newly returned for a short period and would soon be off again, and I had not felt like taking up where we previously left off.
Max and I have resumed e-mailing and he continues to update me on his dating progress. Goran has gone quiet since he is away with the family but before leaving the country had implied that he was likely to continue wooing his new and young Brazilian friend. I don’t blame him for preferring this well-endowed liberal woman. Jan occasionally sends me a message enquiring after my well-being but I rather suspect he has lost interest in me altogether.
I should be unsettled by all this … but if I am honest with myself I rather suspect that I have wanted to be left alone and that is why I have not made more of an effort to nurture these relationships.
Whilst I realise that I’m not entirely able to stick to my word – for example I’d told Goran that I probably wasn’t going to meet anymore new men – when in fact I still had one live online dating profile up and was occasionally flirting with the more interesting men out there, meant that inevitably there was going to be a date or two with someone new sooner or later.
Which was what happened last night. After Goran cried on my shoulder over the bust up with his new woman last Thursday, he had also made it clear that I was no longer shag buddy of the moment. I asked him again why he thought talking to me was going to resolve the issues he had with pugilistic new woman – she had thrown an almighty temper tantrum which ended with Goran getting a black eye and ruptured eardrum. The answer he’d given hadn’t been flattering – I needed to get all this off my chest. And after all the TLC I’d showered on him too! Patience has never been my strongest suit … perhaps it really was time he had a less poly and strictly monogamous relationship with his missus. He said they had been considering exactly this, that she might also give up the man she was seeing on the other side of the world. I am really done with being led on or used. He’d tried to assuage any guilt re his culpability – I haven’t led you on, have I? I had laughed about it, but on further analysis can only conclude that he is as great about deceiving himself as the next man, and perhaps everyone else too – NW (with rather bruising consequence), his wife, and me.
Bidding him adieu, with a tinge of sadness but knowing also that I had had a lucky escape (once again), I ended up flirting outrageously that evening with a couple of new guys and asking one of them, the photographer pro at the other end of the OkCupid app if he was willing to meet up. Long story short, he came up to my neck of the woods earlier this afternoon and was just the right sort of geeky sexy and eager enough to check into the Hendon Hall Hotel. It had been far too long since the last time I had had hotel sex, and I realised how much I missed the frisson of excitement and naughty fun that evoked. When I left him, spent and sated, I came home feeling quite pleased with my efforts.
He had been most appreciative of what I had to offer and although I liked to think that I was also honest in my dealings with him, revealing that I would not be available next week as I was joining Ewan in the Scottish Highlands, I could not be certain that there might be a second date. He had confided quite early on that he was hoping to meet the One, but was not averse to a little fun along the way – so aren’t we all too?
I don’t mean a leprechaun nor the other pagan sprite and it only struck me as I was writing up about last night’s date with new man: the coincidence between his politics – he’s a green party supporter – and the rendezvous for our date in Fitzrovia, The Green Man pub. It was a very agreeable venue with a wide range of craft beers – I was really quite pleased I’d left the car at home.
However, I’d committed the dating faux pas that might have consigned my desirability to the bin forevermore – arriving forty minutes after our pre-arranged meeting time. In my defence I did give him the heads up that I had errands to run beforehand and would most likely be running late. All the same, forty minutes to keep someone waiting is not my style at all and I tried to make up for it by not taking an immediate dislike to his voice – it has the squeaky resonance one associates with Ken Livingstone and David Beckham. To his credit he took my tardiness well and we managed to have a rather pleasant evening, helped greatly by the aforesaid pale ales.
Still, I’m not sure if there’s anything to go on from it – he lives on the other side of London and I didn’t feel that immediate attraction people call chemistry; the high-pitched timbre might have something to do with it. I have to say, albeit regretfully – it was a bit of a waste of an evening, IPAs notwithstanding.