First of all apologies, I’m trying to ensure I update you all once a week, and I’m aware I missed my Monday deadline this week…..
I’ve been chatting with my next date “The Bodyguard” for a while now through ‘guided communication’ and we finally arranged to meet for a dinner date. But before I go into the actual date itself, let me give you some background on why I started communicating with him in the first place.
The Bodyguard’s photos… hmm, well in actual fact some of them, ok ok a lot of them, didn’t do him any favours. The first one was of him in a suit looking very smart and sophisticated – fine. The next one similar but he’s sitting in a car…okaaaay, the next is of him standing next to his ‘flash motor’ which did make me raise an eyebrow… Ok, side note here… All too often you find online profiles where men can be seen standing near (usually a fancy car they’d like to own), sitting in (they’ve hired it for the day) or leaning against (see previous comment and/or or he’s at a car show) a very expensive looking vehicle – sometimes he’ll be standing at such a distance that you can just tell it’s a nice motor he happened to see on the street and has asked his mate to take a picture before the real owner returns. Alright I’m being a bit cruel here, I’m sure some of those men own these cars and in fact The Bodyguard was one of these exceptions, but note to any male readers out there… this is not appealing to most women, it whispers midlife crisis and practically shouts inadequacy issues/penis extension (unless it’s your real car of course – but still, leave it until you pick us up in it to impress us). But undeterred I looked at the rest of his pictures… cute picture of a puppy, followed by one of him with cute grown up puppy (OK I’m a sucker for animals) and one naked upper torso picture…
Alright so rewind to the puppy pics; these almost fall into the same odd bracket of men posting pictures of themselves with their ‘cute’ niece/nephew/god-child to appear like good boyfriend material. It’s either one of those three or they’ve picked up a random child on the street and asked their friend to hurriedly to take a picture before said child’s parents turn up and realise that their child is being used as window furniture for the dressing of our prospective man’s profile pictures. I really do hope I’m wrong about that last suggestion by the way… but the point is, I find this flagrant advertising of “I’d be a great boyfriend – I love kids… look see?” to be a little too obvious and clichéd. But then again I could be the exception to the rule, most women I know my age want and love kids. So a picture of a man holding a baby probably makes them feel less worried about the time-bomb they carry inside ticking so loudly that it scares off their potential ‘baby-papa’ before they’ve even gotten past the first date. Me personally, well I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I’m indifferent about kids; but I’m pretty much indifferent about kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love children (always used to say “but I couldn’t eat a whole one”) and I dearly love my friends’ children. In fact, I’m sure if I met the right guy I’d get as clucky as a hen being fed oestrogen tablets on the hour, every hour; but I haven’t met that guy yet, so I remain staunchly indifferent about having children.
So what do I like? Pictures of puppy dogs and fluffy kittens of course! Yes it’s obvious, clichéd and extremely cheesy; but a picture of a good looking guy with a cute fluffy animal sends me into paroxysms of cooing and nonsense baby-talk. Which all means that the cute puppy and bodyguard picture had its intended effect on me; I over-rode the dodgy naked upper body shot and decided to give him a shot. I will add that the topless ‘torso of the week’ shot was in this case, clearly a holiday/beach photo rather than a post-gym workout selfie. Please note, the only time these pictures are excusable (oh how I wish I could say hand on heart that these types of pictures do not appeal but I’m a sucker for a toned, muscular body) is when they’re in, by, or near a large body of water. Or when they’re just that ridiculously hot that you have to let the carnal, prehistoric part of your brain’s anatomy override any normal decision-making capacity you may have about whether someone vain enough to take a topless selfie is really, solid boyfriend material.
And that my dear readers is why I let a well-dressed, muscle-bound, animal loving, car obsessed Bodyguard through to round one of Operation ‘Find Kissey a Prince’. Oh that and the idea of dating a real life Bodyguard is pretty hot! Letting a few dodgy pictures through the first round filters was not the only exception I made in his case, I also broke the cardinal rule of never going to dinner on a first date. The other rule I broke was where to meet. During our pre date communication he had managed to make it clear that he was pretty darned pleased with his new car purchase (hence the pictures) and so asked (due to some half-arsed story about work and time restraints etc) if he could pick me up. I agreed knowing we were going somewhere relatively local, and that my flatmate was home and was very well aware of where I was going and with whom (I gave her his details too just in case – it’s always good to be safety-conscious).
7.30 rolls around and my own personal Bodyguard turns up at the door, and ok I will admit it was quite thrilling! He looked much as he did in his photos (always a relief) but with a top on and sans cute puppy; a little taller than me (maybe 5’10?) and very smartly dressed. He’s stocky build, light caramel skin and has a shaved head, he looks a bit bouncer-esque but I guess that comes with the territory, and he has soft brown eyes. He leads me to his car, and yes I’ll admit I was impressed… but only because I like fast cars… oh ok I’ll admit, a lot of us women are suckers for a sporty motor , and if a man knows how to drive it well….? SWOON! Plush leather seats and a new car smell… oh and the man could drive!!! OK so I was well aware that he was showing off, but hey, I was doing the female equivalent by wearing an extremely figure-hugging and not particularly forgiving fawn coloured Calvin Klein dress, with patent cream stilettoes. We all have our little tricks of the trade, and killer heels along with ass-hugging clothes are part of my MO. I don’t have everything in the looks department but then who does? It’s all about emphasising the bits that work so that nobody notices the bits that don’t.
Back to the car journey and what should be a 25 minute drive turns into a 15 minute demonstration of his getaway driving techniques – I could practically feel my cheeks wobbling in that weird G-force way you see in the movies every time we got to a set of traffic lights! We get into town and I suggest a really nice but reasonable Japanese family restaurant. I chat a bit with the owners who turn out to be Mongolian and we order. We then get to talking, I find out that he works for a very rich businessman in the day, and for a rather famous hip-hop DJ one or two nights a week. We chat about his dog which he seems quite besotted with, and I coo over pictures of her as a puppy – did I say I’m a sucker for cute animals?
We chat a bit about me and my interests and then return to him and tales of being a bodyguard and a few of the minor celebrities he’s worked for in the past. He’s polite and straight-talking, a little shy and reserved but that’s fine. What was not so fine was when he started talking about his boss again and went into an hour long monologue about how much of an arsehole his current boss is. Seriously, he just would not stop complaining, and I was starting to get more than a little bored. In fact the more he complained, the less attractive he became. Now I’m well aware that we can’t all have jobs we enjoy, and even the best of jobs can wear us down at times, but this was like a full force barrage of negativity. I tried to take the conversation into lighter, more happy areas, but damnit, all the man wanted to do was complain.
After another 10 minutes (or was it years? It certainly felt that way) I said I had to get up early in the morning so perhaps it was time to call it a night. He was a gentleman, kindly insisting on paying for dinner and dropping me back home – I will admit, the thrill of the high speed drive back almost swayed me towards fancying him again. In fact I decided that if he got in touch and wanted another date I’d give it a go, just in case he was just having an off night. I gave him a peck on the cheek as I left his car, and I left it to him to get back in touch re a second date. But it was not to be. We sent a couple of texts over the next few days, but it all kind of petered out on both sides and no second date was requested by either of us. And not to be mean, but I can’t say I’m too heartbroken… after all, Football Guy’s been in touch and he’s coming over for dinner this time…