25. Playing with Odd Shaped Balls

After my last date with IT Guy, we seem to have rapidly morphed into text/pen-pals, we now chat regularly on whatsapp about work and life in general. I think my honesty with him when I admitted I wasn’t sure if I fancied him was enough to convince him that we were going to fall firmly into the territory of the ‘friendship zone’. But I have to say, rather than feeling like an opportunity has been lost, what I actually feel is relief as I don’t think I really fancied him enough in the first place. The mere fact that I was glad he didn’t try to kiss me at the end of the date pretty much confirms that.

There is however another guy that I’ve been talking to online. This guy is another one of those sensible choices, similar age to me, professional who works in the city and is active like me. The new contender – we’ll call him Aled-jandro, he’s half Welsh/half Spanish – is on paper a great choice. He plays rugby and what’s not to like with a rugby player (other than the broken noses, cauliflower ears and bawdy drinking games – and some women would even see all that as a plus…)? I do love a Welsh accent and the idea of this along with a Latino temperament is extremely appealing.

Granted the online banter has been pretty low, but I can only hope that he’s better in person, after all, some people are great at writing but can’t communicate in person, so of course it works the other way too. In terms of looks… well I think he takes after the Welsh side of his family more so than the Spanish – no smouldering Mediterranean looks here, but he’s attractive in an average, won’t go breaking your heart kind of way. He’s also single, no kids and emotionally available, or at least that’s what his profile would suggest. Now here’s where I do something a little bad… You see before I arranged to meet him I’d already arranged a night of rampant sex with Football Guy for the Friday night, but given my crazy schedule and that of Aled-jandro, who’s also about to go on holiday for three weeks, we end up arranging to go for a coffee after work the same evening. I know, I know… not a good idea at all, as my attentions were bound to be pulled in two very opposing directions.

But there you go, what’s done is done and I went ahead regardless. We arrange to meet at a very good Barista coffee shop in the City close to where we both work. All the Baristas in this particular place seem to be from Australia and it also seems to be a prerequisite for the men working there to have a large, well groomed and bushy beard. Fortunately the women don’t seem to have the same rule applied to them and they are nowhere near as hirsute as their male counterparts. The coffee in this place is amazing and they serve the most delicious chocolate Guinness cake, so I figured if the date sucks at least I’ll get a nice slice of cake.

I met Aled-jandro just near the coffee shop, he was dressed nicely in smart jeans and shirt, looked like his picture and was on time, so he was off to a good start at least. So what can I say?   Well nothing bad in all fairness, he was a nice guy really, friendly, active and very…. average.   I don’t mean that in a harsh way though I realise it sounds that way. It’s just that there was nothing more substantial I can say about him, absolutely no spark or chemistry whatsoever and the conversation was ok but it just kind of… ambled on. Like I say he’s a nice guy, and I can’t say a bad word about him, but then I can’t really say much about him either way. The thing is – and I have to be honest here, it really wasn’t his fault, he didn’t stand a chance. Not when my mind was half on him and half on what I was going to be getting up to later with Football Guy.

We’d had a pleasant conversation at the coffee house and continued on to a bar nearby, but even then I knew I wasn’t on to a winner. Unfortunately it being a Friday it was pretty crowded with Financial City Boys making lots of noise, so we ended up standing outside the bar as I could barely hear him talk over their raucous braying. We talked about his love of odd shaped balls (rugby balls of course), his Spanish heritage and his Welsh roots. It almost seems a shame in some ways, the whole combo sounded great to start off with… I’d imagined a fit rugby body, and a sexy Welsh accent mixed with a passionate Spanish temperament. What I actually got was a relatively normal looking guy with an admittedly sexy Welsh accent (I’ve never looked at Welsh men the same after Steve Jones appeared on our TV screens – the man is a Welsh God!), but minus the Latin passion.

For the most part I felt like I was talking to a mate, and not so much a good mate, but more of a friend of a friend who you make polite conversation to at a party, whilst staring at the really hot guy across the other side of the room that you know is a total douchebag, but that you desperately want to talk to nonetheless. And I knew that my totally hot “douchebag” was currently showering and getting ready to meet me in approximately one and a half hours at my station.   I know, I know, I’m not about to win any nice girl prizes here and what I did was admittedly crappy – heading off from one date straight on to a hook-up with my hot young guy of questionable morals. But I said I’d be honest on this blog so I am, warts and all… Well alright, on the scale of crappy things to do it’s not the worst thing in the world, it’s not like I was in a relationship with the guy and cheating on him with his best mate. It was a first date and I barely even kissed Aled-jandro on the cheek at the end of the date. But I will acknowledge that it wasn’t very fair or nice for him either.

After my date had ended I went to meet Football Guy to have ridiculously hot, meaningless sex, and yes at the time I didn’t feel any regret or shame in that. Okay, I did feel a slight pang of guilt that I had been a really crap date for our poor Welsh rugby player. But in all honesty I didn’t really feel like I was missing out on anything with him. Now there is a case to argue that I would never have known if there was any potential as I never gave him a fighting chance, and you’d be right, I didn’t. But I like to think that even in the mistakes I make, I always come away with a valuable lesson or some nugget of previously unknown wisdom.

In this case, my lesson has been twofold: 1) I wouldn’t do that to someone again, it did feel shitty and I wouldn’t want to be treated in the same way, and 2) a tiny alarm bell has been set off in the back of my head that I may be starting to develop feelings for Football Guy. Fortunately I am still just about able to drown out the annoying ringing sound with the screams of pleasure as he gives me yet another earth shattering orgasm (sorry about that neighbours), but I know that I can’t ignore it for much longer…

And how best to combat this? Why set up another date of course! And I’ll tell you all about how successful that is next week.


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