And the wicked wind whispers and moans
You got your demons and you got desires
But I got a few of my own
Well the one good thing about taking so long to get this blog going is that I can revisit events from the past to fill in those periods when absolutely nothing is happening in my life. Which is quite often in the week-in, week-out monotony of the kitchen world. And I will get back to that world. But I figured it's Feb. 13th, and I'm sitting in the comfy, black, leather couches by the windows of The Newsroom -
...having a few pints and since Valentine's Day is tomorrow, why not write about my internet dating experiences from last summer. You know, try to inject some spice into this thing and take the "blah" out of blog (having said that, don't get your hopes up).
So let's go back to June 2011. I'm in London and working at Pollen Street Social. And it's mental. No exaggeration, this is one of the UK's biggest restaurant openings of the year and it's an amazing experience but it's also unbelievably stressful. I'm working up to 18 hours a day (non-stop) and regularly getting 3 to 4 hours of sleep a night. If you ever told me I'd be doing this I wouldn't believe you. It's good for your career but murder on your social life. So after contemplating it for a while, I decided to slip into the world of online dating in an effort to re-connect with civilization.
But it ain't cheap. £30 a month. Yes, sex does in fact sell. But I scouted things out first and there seemed to be plenty of quality clunge on Dating Direct so hopefully it would pay off. Got off to a rough start though. Spent a few hours trolling the site and found about 7 or 8 fit birds worth hitting up - which I did. And not lame little winks or whatever but proper "Hey Baby...." emails. And...zero. Zilch. Nothing. Complete silence. At this point I realized internet dating was not a whole lot different than the real world. But I pushed on determined to find love (or whatever). Even though the transparancy of the whole experience was a little off-putting. You know who's viewed your profile and who's favourited you and vice versa and I prefer the whole pervy-lurky thing and being all hiding in the shadows. But you get used to it.
Despite the slew of initial rejections/indifferences or whatever you want to call them, things start picking up for The Kevmeister (not my username but I did refer to myself as such in my profile - which I think was a pretty witty). Being in London there's a pretty big member count but it's a little depressing too when almost every single woman writes the same crap. Her friends think she's great. She likes a drink in a pub. She loves a night on the town but also enjoys an evening on the couch watching a movie. The lack of originality is painful! As Groundskeeper Willie once said - "Back to the Loch with you Nessie!" (although once I actually got together with some of the women on the site it was interesting to hear how most guys wouldn't even read the profiles).
Anyhoo, the winks started pouring in and the emails started piling up and pretty soon there were a few fish in the barrel. Now going into this, I was up front with the ladies about the hours I worked and sometimes it would be five days before I could respond. But luckily for me, most of the girls were desperate enough that they could wait around.... And this illustrated another aspect of the internet dating world. I mean, normally if you meet someone in a bar or through friends or at a function - you hit it off and could very well get together in a few days. But with this, the back and forth usually resulted in weeks passing from the introduction to the act of actually going out (well, at least for me).
So who did I meet?
So who did I meet?
Sarah (English, 36)
This was my first real connection and she approached me based on the sombrero I wore in my profile pic (it was a real attention grabber). Her pics were a little shrouded in mystery and I couldn't get a great sense of what she looked like but she seemed alright. More importantly, she was a lawyer. And you know what lawyers do? They make lawyer money. And that was attractive. But there was more to the woman than that. We start writing to each other and holy shit - we are getting on like a house on fire. To the point where it seemed plausible we'd be married in the next six months.
But all good things must come to an end and we decide to finally meet in person. A few drinks in a pub - easy enough. A little pub in Notting Hill on neutral ground on a Monday evening. As mentioned previously, I've been logging massive hours with little sleep so even though I tidied myself up I still looked only slightly less haggard than a Nick Nolte mug shot. Get into the pub and yep - she showed. Thankfully, the pics did not do her justice and she's a good-lookin' girl. I introduce myself, sit down and that's pretty much the high point of the date. All the witty repartee, the good-natured banter that we exchanged on-line could have been two other people. Our time together was pleasant but it had all the sexual tension of a post office job interview. Yikes. We wrap things up after a few (making this what would turn out to be my shortest date) and I walk her to her bike. On the way she has a cigarette - that she rolls herself (this, I gots to say was a bit off-putting - although it's quite plausible she didn't care what I thought at that point). And we get to her bike and WTF! I wish I had a photo of this. It's like one of those gigantic, industrial tricycles for mentally-challenged adults but a two-wheeler version. And it's yellow and hideous and I'm embarrassed to be standing beside this thing in public. Anyway, we say our goodbyes and I'm trying to reconcile how things could be so good on-line but crap in person. Yeah, welcome to internet dating. We exchange a few pleasantries on-line after that and disappear from each others "favourites".
Lesson learned.
Judith (English, claims to be 41)
This was a bit of weird one. As I mentioned, there's a lot of transparency with the dating web site and I could see this woman kept checking out my profile. Which was a bit odd if you saw her photo (which I wish I could post but wouldn't be ethical). She had nothing written in her profile just her pic. And the best way to describe her look - have you ever seen that show "The Real Housewives of Orange County"? She could fit right in. As the old one. The big blonde hair, the fake tan, and the little dog in the photo. But man alive, 41 was looking like a bit of a stretch. She would look dynamite for 51 but...... Anyway, she eventually messages me and she's a very interesting woman. A film producer, has done a lot of travel, and lives in a condo in Notting Hill (money!). So we chat a bit and I've learned not to blow my load in the emails (sorry) and save something for the face-to-face. But before this she wants to go old school and have a chat on the phone. It was a bit awkward - primarily because I can barely understand British people over a crap cell phone connection but it went alright.
And we decide to meet for a drink. She wants to do Hyde Park on a Sunday afternoon which to me seems like a bad idea because it will be busy. And as it turns out, this Sunday is probably the hottest day of the year. And I'm on the shitty Tube taking the District line from Putney and this thing runs outdoors most of the way and there's no AC and no windows and the sun is blazing in to the packed car and my shirt is plastered to my back. Great.
Once I get outside I manage to fan myself and dry off a bit. I get to the park and it's packed and I have no idea where this place we're supposed to meet is. I get a call from her and even though she lives about a ten minute walk away she decided to drive and - surprise! - can't find a parking space. So change of plans and she now picks me at the side of the road. Disappojnted that she drives a green Ford Explorer but she has family out in the boonies so I guess it's a practical decision. Her dog accessory is also in the back and it's one of the more awkward intros I'll have but she seems nice enough.
The plan now is to hit her 'hood and have a few drinks there which should have been the plan all along. We get out of her car and I have the chance to properly check her out. The big blonde hair is happening. The fake tan is going on. And I'm pretty sure those big boobs she's thrusting around are fake too (she's showing a lot of cleavage and, yeah they gotta' be fake). She's also dressed in black, spandex work-out gear and running shoes (a bit odd) but still looks stylish. What I can't get over though is how old she looks. She's got a nice body but anyone walking by would think I was having lunch with my young aunt. We're on a quiet side street on the sidewalk having drinks and it's a really nice afternoon. And the conversation is good too. She's been a film producer for a while and being a former cinephile myself it's nice to talk movies with someone who has that background. Her dog is with us which attracts no shortage of passersby (and other dogs) and provides the only real awkwardness of the date when she leans over to pet her dog and catches me grabbing some big eyefuls of that cleavage (just making sure on the fakeness).
Jamie (American, 30)
British people are fine and all that but I do find it is easier to talk to and relate to Canucks and Yanks. Jamie was going to be my first experience with a self-described "curvy" girl. It was interesting to note that her pics only contained shots of her face - but it was a pretty face. I initially got in touch with her due to a comment she made about her dog that I won't go into here. Didn't seem like we would meet up though. My schedule and her schedule and cancellations conspired against and I figured it was dead in the water. But things finally worked out and we gave it a go.
Although timing could have been a bit better. I agreed to come to her neck of the woods - Camden Town - which is probably my favourite part of London. It's interesting to note at this point the riots that engulfed the city last summer have just started kicking off in Tottenham and trouble has been spreading across the city. So she shows up and she's a big girl. Not in a big blob sort of way, but she's got a very, very big chest and the hips and ass to match. Curvy as advertised! And in heels she's a little taller than me so I'm feeling a bit like the woman. But she's definitely good-looking. And she's showing all this off too. She's wearing a one-piece dress that's to the shape of her body and man - there is no shortage of cleavage going on. These things are begging to pop out. I think the great Dave Chappelle says it best at the end of this clip -
But I've never really been a "big boobs" guy. And she's sittin' there and I'm thinking, "If this would perhaps develop into some sort of a relationship there's no way I could tit-fuck this girl. My contribution to the act would be comically disproportionate". That's rude. I know. So boobs aside, she's a super-cool gal but it doesn't take me long to realize she's very Type A and well, I'm not. She was from Philly and lived in NYC and worked on Law and Order and moved to London to become European Sales Manager for something or other (her background is in photography) and now she's the photo editor for a well-known London publication and her softball team just won the UK championships and she knows just about everybody. Don't get me wrong, she's not boasting about all this - it's all coming out in the natural course of conversation. But I'm struggling to come up with more than three interesting things I've done in the last decade. We're actually getting along really well though.
We change locations and head to another bar and things deteriorate somewhat - although it's no fault of ours. As mentioned, the riots in London had started and it was starting to pick up in the north (I lived in the south which is a lot less.....well let's just say it's more "white"). Film footage comes on the TV of a massive fire not too, too far away - I think this is the one we were watching -
which gets her upset and the tears start to come. Shit. Let's wrap this up. I walk her home which she is grateful for and she grabs me and plants a big kiss right on my lips. Again I'm feeling very much like the woman. So I start making my way to the Tube and now the streets outside of the pubs we were just in are filled with police in riot gear and hoodies are assembling down the block and the subway station is closed. Shit. Now I'm not too worried if I have to hand out a few beatdowns but I am quite a ways from home and don't like to be stranded. Fortunately the next Tube station down the road is open and I got the hell out of there.
A text or two more. That was it.
Daphne (Canadian/Greek, 38)
The night after I met Jamie I was supposed to go out with Daphne. But after escaping the riots in Camden (turns out one of the pubs we were in had it's windows smashed out) I headed straight down to Soho and to the sanctuary of The Salisbury and got pretty smashed. So I was royally hung the next day and the thought of interacting with people was not exciting. Fortunately the riots were making their way south and things kicked off in Clapham Junction which is not too far from where we were going to meet so I pulled a bitch move and cancelled. But now she wanted to talk on the phone. Oh good. How lonely are these chicks? So we chat and she was born in Canada and moved to Greece as a kid but has no silly accent. And we decide to meet up later in the week which we do.
She was actually one of the first women to contact me but I took ages to get back to her (because of work and not because I was scared) and once I did she had moved on to another guy. This didn't work out so she was having another go at The Kevmeister. As well with her, the pics didn't give the greatest idea of what she looked like but there were "no kids", "no curves", and "no wrinkles". The stranger thing though was her emails. They were very formal with excellent spelling and good grammar. And very polite - almost like she was applying for a job (and maybe in some ways she was, huh!). It's a Saturday night and the weather is surprisingly nice which helps because we're sitting at an outdoor pub patio. And this girl turns out to be quite a babe. Got a bit of a 40's pin-up style thing going on too. What catches me off guard though is that in complete contrast to her emails, she's actually a bit of a bitch. Which I'm liking. The smoking, not so much. Anyway, the evening goes well and we are getting on. And I get the sense that from her lack of direction in career and life and a few stories about her family back in Greece that her family is a bit wealthy. That's interesting. We call it a night and I walk her home and have a polite good-bye. Don't hear from her again until about a week later and wants to know if I'm up for another date. I don't get back to her right away and the next day I get fucking smashed at a Pollen Street company event. I'm talking lying on the floor of a bathroom stall and puking in public type of smashed. And I forget to get back to her. And then I remember and it's been a couple days and I've also decided I'm moving to Edinburgh so I don't bother. I kind of regret that.
So that's it for the London internet-dating experience. Wasn't exactly an orgy was it? Well, I still did a hell of a lot better than Joe Beresford...
Now here's The Boss...
This was my first real connection and she approached me based on the sombrero I wore in my profile pic (it was a real attention grabber). Her pics were a little shrouded in mystery and I couldn't get a great sense of what she looked like but she seemed alright. More importantly, she was a lawyer. And you know what lawyers do? They make lawyer money. And that was attractive. But there was more to the woman than that. We start writing to each other and holy shit - we are getting on like a house on fire. To the point where it seemed plausible we'd be married in the next six months.
But all good things must come to an end and we decide to finally meet in person. A few drinks in a pub - easy enough. A little pub in Notting Hill on neutral ground on a Monday evening. As mentioned previously, I've been logging massive hours with little sleep so even though I tidied myself up I still looked only slightly less haggard than a Nick Nolte mug shot. Get into the pub and yep - she showed. Thankfully, the pics did not do her justice and she's a good-lookin' girl. I introduce myself, sit down and that's pretty much the high point of the date. All the witty repartee, the good-natured banter that we exchanged on-line could have been two other people. Our time together was pleasant but it had all the sexual tension of a post office job interview. Yikes. We wrap things up after a few (making this what would turn out to be my shortest date) and I walk her to her bike. On the way she has a cigarette - that she rolls herself (this, I gots to say was a bit off-putting - although it's quite plausible she didn't care what I thought at that point). And we get to her bike and WTF! I wish I had a photo of this. It's like one of those gigantic, industrial tricycles for mentally-challenged adults but a two-wheeler version. And it's yellow and hideous and I'm embarrassed to be standing beside this thing in public. Anyway, we say our goodbyes and I'm trying to reconcile how things could be so good on-line but crap in person. Yeah, welcome to internet dating. We exchange a few pleasantries on-line after that and disappear from each others "favourites".
Lesson learned.
Judith (English, claims to be 41)
This was a bit of weird one. As I mentioned, there's a lot of transparency with the dating web site and I could see this woman kept checking out my profile. Which was a bit odd if you saw her photo (which I wish I could post but wouldn't be ethical). She had nothing written in her profile just her pic. And the best way to describe her look - have you ever seen that show "The Real Housewives of Orange County"? She could fit right in. As the old one. The big blonde hair, the fake tan, and the little dog in the photo. But man alive, 41 was looking like a bit of a stretch. She would look dynamite for 51 but...... Anyway, she eventually messages me and she's a very interesting woman. A film producer, has done a lot of travel, and lives in a condo in Notting Hill (money!). So we chat a bit and I've learned not to blow my load in the emails (sorry) and save something for the face-to-face. But before this she wants to go old school and have a chat on the phone. It was a bit awkward - primarily because I can barely understand British people over a crap cell phone connection but it went alright.
And we decide to meet for a drink. She wants to do Hyde Park on a Sunday afternoon which to me seems like a bad idea because it will be busy. And as it turns out, this Sunday is probably the hottest day of the year. And I'm on the shitty Tube taking the District line from Putney and this thing runs outdoors most of the way and there's no AC and no windows and the sun is blazing in to the packed car and my shirt is plastered to my back. Great.
Once I get outside I manage to fan myself and dry off a bit. I get to the park and it's packed and I have no idea where this place we're supposed to meet is. I get a call from her and even though she lives about a ten minute walk away she decided to drive and - surprise! - can't find a parking space. So change of plans and she now picks me at the side of the road. Disappojnted that she drives a green Ford Explorer but she has family out in the boonies so I guess it's a practical decision. Her dog accessory is also in the back and it's one of the more awkward intros I'll have but she seems nice enough.
The plan now is to hit her 'hood and have a few drinks there which should have been the plan all along. We get out of her car and I have the chance to properly check her out. The big blonde hair is happening. The fake tan is going on. And I'm pretty sure those big boobs she's thrusting around are fake too (she's showing a lot of cleavage and, yeah they gotta' be fake). She's also dressed in black, spandex work-out gear and running shoes (a bit odd) but still looks stylish. What I can't get over though is how old she looks. She's got a nice body but anyone walking by would think I was having lunch with my young aunt. We're on a quiet side street on the sidewalk having drinks and it's a really nice afternoon. And the conversation is good too. She's been a film producer for a while and being a former cinephile myself it's nice to talk movies with someone who has that background. Her dog is with us which attracts no shortage of passersby (and other dogs) and provides the only real awkwardness of the date when she leans over to pet her dog and catches me grabbing some big eyefuls of that cleavage (just making sure on the fakeness).
It's been nice but ultimately I have no interest in boning this chick - not even from a cougar perspective and we shut things down. And then the bill arrives. Even though I'm dirt poor I insist on picking up the check. Fucking idiot. Three beers and three glasses of wine - £50! I put this on my Canadian credit card and it came to $85. Shit. Now I did want to see this woman again and get some sort of payback. Anyway she insists on driving me home but her car has run out of gas. So we walk to her place, have a nice hug and end it. I'm not optimistic about seeing her again but the weird thing is she would text me every day for about the next week. And then she went to France for a week and then nothing...
$85.....
Lesson learned.
There were then a couple of dates that were more-or-less forgettable. One with an Israeli psychotherapist who's primary attractive quality was a shared love of Seinfeld. Her choice of a noisy pub with a band was not-conducive to first date chit-chat although all she really wanted to talk about was her family and how much she wanted to be in a relationship. Oy vey. And another with my first foray into dating a chick with kids. Her pics caught my eye because she seemed to have this "Latino Jennifer Love Hewitt" thing going on (which would later be revealed to be quite misleading). But she was always out and going to concerts and stuff and seemed like she knew how to have fun. Unfortunately, she happened to be attending these events with her 15 year old daughter who was also like, her best friend. And to make matters worse she showed up on our date wearing a fedora. Oh man. The best thing to come out this though was her choice of venue. One of the best drinking holes in London - Gordon's Wine Bar -
There were then a couple of dates that were more-or-less forgettable. One with an Israeli psychotherapist who's primary attractive quality was a shared love of Seinfeld. Her choice of a noisy pub with a band was not-conducive to first date chit-chat although all she really wanted to talk about was her family and how much she wanted to be in a relationship. Oy vey. And another with my first foray into dating a chick with kids. Her pics caught my eye because she seemed to have this "Latino Jennifer Love Hewitt" thing going on (which would later be revealed to be quite misleading). But she was always out and going to concerts and stuff and seemed like she knew how to have fun. Unfortunately, she happened to be attending these events with her 15 year old daughter who was also like, her best friend. And to make matters worse she showed up on our date wearing a fedora. Oh man. The best thing to come out this though was her choice of venue. One of the best drinking holes in London - Gordon's Wine Bar -
Jamie (American, 30)
British people are fine and all that but I do find it is easier to talk to and relate to Canucks and Yanks. Jamie was going to be my first experience with a self-described "curvy" girl. It was interesting to note that her pics only contained shots of her face - but it was a pretty face. I initially got in touch with her due to a comment she made about her dog that I won't go into here. Didn't seem like we would meet up though. My schedule and her schedule and cancellations conspired against and I figured it was dead in the water. But things finally worked out and we gave it a go.
Although timing could have been a bit better. I agreed to come to her neck of the woods - Camden Town - which is probably my favourite part of London. It's interesting to note at this point the riots that engulfed the city last summer have just started kicking off in Tottenham and trouble has been spreading across the city. So she shows up and she's a big girl. Not in a big blob sort of way, but she's got a very, very big chest and the hips and ass to match. Curvy as advertised! And in heels she's a little taller than me so I'm feeling a bit like the woman. But she's definitely good-looking. And she's showing all this off too. She's wearing a one-piece dress that's to the shape of her body and man - there is no shortage of cleavage going on. These things are begging to pop out. I think the great Dave Chappelle says it best at the end of this clip -
But I've never really been a "big boobs" guy. And she's sittin' there and I'm thinking, "If this would perhaps develop into some sort of a relationship there's no way I could tit-fuck this girl. My contribution to the act would be comically disproportionate". That's rude. I know. So boobs aside, she's a super-cool gal but it doesn't take me long to realize she's very Type A and well, I'm not. She was from Philly and lived in NYC and worked on Law and Order and moved to London to become European Sales Manager for something or other (her background is in photography) and now she's the photo editor for a well-known London publication and her softball team just won the UK championships and she knows just about everybody. Don't get me wrong, she's not boasting about all this - it's all coming out in the natural course of conversation. But I'm struggling to come up with more than three interesting things I've done in the last decade. We're actually getting along really well though.
We change locations and head to another bar and things deteriorate somewhat - although it's no fault of ours. As mentioned, the riots in London had started and it was starting to pick up in the north (I lived in the south which is a lot less.....well let's just say it's more "white"). Film footage comes on the TV of a massive fire not too, too far away - I think this is the one we were watching -
which gets her upset and the tears start to come. Shit. Let's wrap this up. I walk her home which she is grateful for and she grabs me and plants a big kiss right on my lips. Again I'm feeling very much like the woman. So I start making my way to the Tube and now the streets outside of the pubs we were just in are filled with police in riot gear and hoodies are assembling down the block and the subway station is closed. Shit. Now I'm not too worried if I have to hand out a few beatdowns but I am quite a ways from home and don't like to be stranded. Fortunately the next Tube station down the road is open and I got the hell out of there.
A text or two more. That was it.
Daphne (Canadian/Greek, 38)
The night after I met Jamie I was supposed to go out with Daphne. But after escaping the riots in Camden (turns out one of the pubs we were in had it's windows smashed out) I headed straight down to Soho and to the sanctuary of The Salisbury and got pretty smashed. So I was royally hung the next day and the thought of interacting with people was not exciting. Fortunately the riots were making their way south and things kicked off in Clapham Junction which is not too far from where we were going to meet so I pulled a bitch move and cancelled. But now she wanted to talk on the phone. Oh good. How lonely are these chicks? So we chat and she was born in Canada and moved to Greece as a kid but has no silly accent. And we decide to meet up later in the week which we do.
She was actually one of the first women to contact me but I took ages to get back to her (because of work and not because I was scared) and once I did she had moved on to another guy. This didn't work out so she was having another go at The Kevmeister. As well with her, the pics didn't give the greatest idea of what she looked like but there were "no kids", "no curves", and "no wrinkles". The stranger thing though was her emails. They were very formal with excellent spelling and good grammar. And very polite - almost like she was applying for a job (and maybe in some ways she was, huh!). It's a Saturday night and the weather is surprisingly nice which helps because we're sitting at an outdoor pub patio. And this girl turns out to be quite a babe. Got a bit of a 40's pin-up style thing going on too. What catches me off guard though is that in complete contrast to her emails, she's actually a bit of a bitch. Which I'm liking. The smoking, not so much. Anyway, the evening goes well and we are getting on. And I get the sense that from her lack of direction in career and life and a few stories about her family back in Greece that her family is a bit wealthy. That's interesting. We call it a night and I walk her home and have a polite good-bye. Don't hear from her again until about a week later and wants to know if I'm up for another date. I don't get back to her right away and the next day I get fucking smashed at a Pollen Street company event. I'm talking lying on the floor of a bathroom stall and puking in public type of smashed. And I forget to get back to her. And then I remember and it's been a couple days and I've also decided I'm moving to Edinburgh so I don't bother. I kind of regret that.
So that's it for the London internet-dating experience. Wasn't exactly an orgy was it? Well, I still did a hell of a lot better than Joe Beresford...
Now here's The Boss...
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