41. Mr Big By Name…

So last time I left off I was faced with a dilemma – whether to meet Mr Big again or not, given his marital status.

Well the short answer is I did.

We met up for a quick drink in a bar not far from where we both work.  The bar in question is well known as a bit of a meat market – the type of place where women from a certain area east of London associated with the TV show TOWIE, come to find a nice gentleman with a steady wage.  What am I saying – they go there because it’s where all the City Boys hang out on a Thursday (it’s the new Friday) and get absolutely wankered, easy pickings on both sides.

I was a bit surprised and I’ll admit dismayed with his suggestion but put it down to his not being in the country long, so I bit my tongue and met him there.  Again he was dressed in standard City Trader attire with his monogrammed shirtsleeves (cringe), but he carries it well.

We chatted for a while and I found out a bit more about what he does for a living – trading in some sort of agri-business…  And I told him about my passion in life – pole dancing. I know I know I shouldn’t, but he seemed like an adult so I thought he might not assume the usual sleazy leer.  He assumed a slight momentary leer.

He also spent an inordinate amount of time staring at me and saying how attractive I am.  Now compliments are great and of course I’m grateful, it’s just that they make me a bit uncomfortable at the same time.  I always try the be gracious and say thank you, but the honest truth is it kind of embarrasses me.

We’d been standing chatting at the bar for an hour or so chatting (him gazing at me – a bit staring_cat-2like my insecure cat does when he tries to out-stare me, he usually wins), which is a tough gig when you’re wearing 3.5 inch stilettos.  Seeing my pain he suggests we sit down and he guides me to a secluded corner where he then proceeds to kiss me.

If you’ve read many of my previous posts you’ll know I’m not a prude by any means, but this still felt a little fast for my liking.  But it wasn’t like I didn’t want to kiss him, it’s just that given his circumstances I wanted to proceed with caution.  The next thing I knew he had his hand on my thigh and was trying to guide my hand to his formidable cock.

WTF???

Where the hell did that come from?  And I’m not just talking about the dick proportioned baby-Weightliftinglike the arm of a well-built baby that does weight-lifting – on steroids… How had we gone from gentle flirting  to ” here’s my giant cock, wanna feel?” in the space of an hour?

I wasn’t giving him any overt sexual signals – believe me I know when I am as they’re pretty darned intentional.  In fact I was being what I thought was pretty coy… was it because I told him about my passion for pole (no pun intended – well ok maybe intended pun)?  Did he actually know the rep of the meat joint he’d taken us to and assumed that “well she must be up for it if she knows we’er going here…”?

Now I have to admit to being a bit crap here – any strong, self-respecting woman would have twatted him in the face after such lewd behaviour.  But I’m a total big girl’s blouse (aka lame-ass coward) when it comes to confrontations.  So I just made my excuses and left in an extreme hurry.

Jeeze I just seem to have terrible luck or otherwise I’m a horrendous judge of character, I just didn’t see any of that coming.  I assumed he was a gentleman, but what gentleman tries to get you to grab his knob in public on a Tuesday night after taking you out for a very civilized lunch date?

I’m beginning to wonder if I should steer clear of individuals who talk to strangers on public transport.  Which reminds me, I have to tell you all about Crazy Italian –  the Sicilian guy who asked me for directions….

I’ll explain all in the next post

40. The Dilemma, To Date or Not To Date?

So where did I leave off?

Oh yes I was about to have a date with London’s answer to Mr Big, my American stranger from the train.  He’d asked me to decide on where to meet for lunch as he claimed to be unfamiliar with the area – it turns out he’s only been in the country about 6 months.

We meet just near the restaurant and head upstairs, I’ve dressed in an extremely clingy but still somewhat professional looking dress.  It’s so tight I’ve had to deny myself any form of carbs for the past 48 hours, in fact I’ve had to avoid even thinking of carbs in case that shows up in this dress too.  So not wanting to waste the opportunity, I ensure that I walk in front of him up the stairs, removing my long coat as I do so.

It has the desired effect as when I turn around at the top I can see his eyes quickly come back up to face level.  He’s dressed very much as he was when I met him, sharp business suit and shiny shoes.  I then notice the shirt – checkered but with his initials embroidered into the cuffs.

It’s only because he’s a Yank that I can forgive him this fashion misdemeanor –  on a fellow Brit I would be mercilessly tearing him apart (unless he was a toff – they can’t be blamed as such, on the basis that they’re usually public/boarding school educated and have had their initials hand-embroidered into their nappies and every other item of clothing since birth).

But back to the date.

Conversation flows easily and I get over my initial nerves  – I was actually pretty terrified of this date as I’d managed to build him up into some amazing international, super-intelligent jet-setter in my head, and couldn’t think for the life of me how I was going to hold my own for an hour in his company.

It turns out he does do a fair bit of international travel with his job, travelling to Asia, South America and the USA visiting his company’s local offices there.  And he’s also pretty intelligent from what I can gather too.  So it seems I’m not far off the mark, but he has an easy manner and seems to be genuinely interested in me too.

So what else did I find out?

Well he’s in his 40s, studied at Harvard, half Italian half Caribbean, oh and has a wife and two kids.

DANMIT!!!   I should’ve known it was too good to be true.

He tells me that he’s in the midst of separating from his wife which he says is further complicated because of visa issues.  Ok I think, he could be telling the truth, but best to approach this whole situation with extreme caution. Heck, I’m not so wet behind the dating ears not to know that a lot of guys will say whatever comes into their heads if they think it’ll help ’em get laid.

So we end our lunch with him saying that he really wants to see me again but will understand if I’d rather not….  So I’m now stuck with a dilemma, whether to give him the benefit of the doubt or not.

Actually, for a change I’ll ask you…  What do you think, would you believe him?