Sorry to everyone who has been waiting with baited breath for my next update on the Brisvegas dating cesspool, I wish I had a really fabulous reason as to why I have been missing in action. I've been cruising the mediterranean with Henry Cavill (aka Superman), working with orphans in Uganda, trekking the Himalayas to save an endangered mountain goat....yeah, no, I've been lazy, annoyed with men and inspirationally frustrated.
After my last post I have been on three dates but to be honest, I couldn't be arsed to write about them. I was left feeling deflated and disappointed. Two out of three dates were relatively the same, sigh. Three in quick succession actually - two in one week, hussy I know, but they weren't below the waist dates so hussy is in check! One had a flicker of hope, there was attraction and sass but I'll get to him. He could be worthy of a couple of posts actually, stay tuned for when Pug Boy makes an appearance.
With that in mind, let's start with Bachelor Number 4: Brad aka Mr Cute But 38 And Living With Flatmates.
Brad and I connected on two online dating apps over a period of time, both Tinder & Plenty Of Fish, so I guess the initial I think you don't look like a serial killer aka superficial attraction was there. Tinder was first but neither of us spoke - cause that's how we roll on Tinder, you just swipe right until someone wants to get drunk with you and try to get in your knickers. Second was on Plenty Of Fish, or POF to we fishing fiends. This time we actually exchanged sentences. Insert clapping here.
Brad was a 10/10 for texting - one for a friendly good morning, lunch time a polite how is your day going and a good night for the close. Well done Brad! Plus kudos also goes to the gent for making the first move and locking down a meet-up within days.
We met half way between his world and mine - he's from the South, I'm from the North. In Game of Thrones terms we are a Lannister and a Snow so I guess our fate was sealed. Of course I'm the Snow in the situation, everyone likes a Snow and we Northerner's aren't weirdo's. Carindale Hotel was the meeting point for a cleansing ale and a chat. One Peroni in and boy could this guy talk! Even over the top of me - blood top effort mate.
The usual 'let's talk about how crap dating is in your 30's' was out of the way pretty quick, plus he divulged he's been married before. Went on to say she left him for a rich older man - move on Brad. How superficial girls are these day - *cough* there's a girl sitting opposite you champ and i'm not superficial (well much anyway). And how they just use men to pay for meals and the drinks - ummmm Brad I just bought that round, you're welcome.
All in all, conversation flowed pretty easy, he was not unpleasant to the eye and had showered so that was pretty good - as you can tell standards on my part are starting to wane. If they shower and have their own teeth we are on to a winner!
He had plans later that night - or so he said, so after a polite hour and a half of chat we called it a night. He text me after ten minutes to make sure I got to my car, how polite, and I commenced the thirty minute drive home to the right side of the city. Just as I got home another tweet on my phone went off - his plans bailed on him and suddenly am I up for a movie at his? Keep your thoughts pure peeps, nothing unsavoury happened whilst movie watching.
This is when I found out he had two nosey flatmates - who is 38 and has flatmates? I guess when you're divorced and she takes half times get tough. The instructions for the mission were to turn my lights off when approaching the house, leave my shoes at the front door and sneak up the stairs so they wouldn't hear me enter the house to commence the interrogation of who I was.
I was proceeding to the route according to the posh English bird on my GPS, my lights were off and I parked with the softest touch of my brakes. I sent a message to Brad that I was here sent. Brad came out to the car to divulge part two of the mission. I stuffed my car keys in my jeans pocket so they didn't rattle and my phone was on silent. Brad cradled my Maccas (I hadn't had tea yet and the Asahi's were kicking in), and we crept up the stairs in proper stealth mode - mission accomplished! Should have been a bloody Commando or Navy Seal it was that good I tell you.
Movie watched, Maccas inhaled, he had KFC - and the way he ate that greasy chicken offered both hope for the future yet was equally disgusting at the same time. Date was officially over after the credits rolled - no smoochy smooch but a hug and that's it folks. He still smelt fresh as a daisy too. He made sure I got home with another polite text - awwwww. Anyway, two days later I had a begrudging date with Pug Boy, because at the time I thought I better keep my options open just incase. And then things get a little more interesting.
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