The Rules of Dating

Well my birthday drinks went very well. Despite not a lot of people turning up, I was on top form and had a great time with those who came along. The venue was fabulous, with cabaret girls and fire-eaters, and the music was good. Mr Double-Barrel also came along with his best friend, which was nice. Everyone seemed to like him and he held his own. Given that our date was two weeks ago, I had started to think that maybe he just wasn’t interested anymore.

And this is my problem. He said all the right things. Complimented me on my clothes, my perfume, and talked about the next date, and the date after that. He mentioned that I should go with him to a festival abroad at the end of June, and he was a perfect gent all night. He carried my ridiculously high heels for me and found a club for us to go onto where I’d feel comfortable in my back up flat pumps. He didn’t take me to a pretentious place either. It was in fact a converted public toilet underground in west London and the crowd was most definitely eclectic. I caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. He paid me random compliments in the middle of our conversations. We laughed, we talked, we danced, we kissed, we…well. Enough of that. But now I’m stuck. The thing is, I like him (obviously). I mean, I like him in a ‘thinking ahead’ kind of way. And I have no idea what the ‘dating rules’ are.


Am I supposed to wait until he gets in touch with me? And if so, how long is an acceptable wait? Or am I meant to be as upfront as I want to be? After all, it was me who chatted him up in the first place. There’s a balance to be struck between letting him know I like him, without scaring him away. What to do, what to do?

This is all very new for me. Despite my antics so far in 2012, this is the first time I’ve found myself in a dating situation. Mr Music (as much as I liked him) dicked me about. Funnily enough, he called when Mr Double-Barrel and I were in a cab on our way to the club to find out if I was still out and when I told him I was with Mr Double-Barrel, I got an ‘oh’ in response. Oh well. Time waits for no-one. That said, it would’ve been nice for me to flaunt myself in front of him because I’d made probably the most amount of effort with my appearance in my life. A little part of me wanted payback for the night of his ultra-crap leaving drinks. But I digress. My point is that we never dated – and while I did agonise over whether to text him, whether he’d reply etc etc, this is not the same situation.

MOD is incomparable. We’ve known each other since we were at school and with the distance, dating is definitely not what I’d describe our ‘relationship’ as.

How the hell do people do this? I don’t play games, I find it next to impossible to – it’s not in my nature. I have a hard time disguising what I’m really thinking or feeling. I believe in fate, that everything happens for a reason and everything that’s meant to happen will, eventually. But I also have that little thing called ‘impatience’. I like attention. I want Mr Double-Barrel to be almost breaking my phone with a flurry of text messages (though if this really happened I’d feel claustrophobic and suffocated and he’d probably end up in the same situation as Mr Clingy – gone).

I was out with Miss America last night and we were talking. She’s similar to me in many ways in that she doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on. My problem is that I go for attractive men (attractive to me, obviously), and literally every guy I’ve been out with or fancied, has always, always attracted attention when we’re out. I can’t fail to notice when the guy I’m with/have my sights set on is being eyed up by a girl or a group of girls in whatever bar we’re in. And Mr Double-Barrel is an eligible guy. I’m not going to say bachelor because I hate that term, but you get my drift. He’s good looking, he’s ambitious – everything is good on paper. And combined with my inbuilt crap timing, I don’t want to be too relaxed and then get introduced to his new girlfriend a la Mr Music.

God, this is such hard work!


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