Last night was my first date from The Site. I thought I had prepared everything, change of clothes for 5:30, make-up, cleansing wipes, perfume and chewing gum. However the day before I broke out in spots (stressed probably from the pressure to have perfect skin) and so had a 
usual dose of UV rays to clear it up - unfortuantely it all went horribly wrong which resulted in the burning of my face and I spent all day at work explaining my unusual crispy appearence to my colleagues. My skin was so hot and tight across my face I had to freeze wet paper towels and hold them to my cheeks and forehead to calm it down. Thankfully, by 5pm most of the swelling had gone down and all that remained of my 'accident' was some redness that could be covered up by makeup. The plan of action was into full swing - 5pm - discreetly pop out to the bathrooms and uncover makeup that was hidden away earlier, spend next 20 mins trying to make skin appear non-red and clear - misson accomplished!
I return to the office and remove all items from bag that I don't need that night, spray some perfume about, put on my carefully pre-selected jewellery and add some serum to my hair. Perfect. It's half five - back out to the toilets double checking I haven't forgotten anything as I go.
I change into black corset I bought just after I had my operation that looks great on (according to my friend, S, who if I ever doubt what to wear points out that this top is always a winner!),
put on some eyeshadow (ooh a new sparkly boujious one I bought especially for tonight!) and realise - SHOCK HORROR - I don't have any mascara! Luckily I work in a building that has a Boots just below it so run in, pay for one and head on down to the tube. Spend next twenty minutes squeezed tightly between sweaty shirts and an old tramp-like man on a seat which positions his face about 2 inches from my chest stares the whole way. Nice start!
I meet him at Green Park tube station and he picks me up in the nicest car I have ever seen ("that don't impress-a me much" - Shania Twain stylee) and I find out soon after the man collects.... not stamps, no, cars! He has 2 Aston Martins, a Mercedes and a Porshe - so unfair! First impressions were good - he seemed really nice and I felt immediately comfortable, not like there were going to be any uncomfortable silences. We go for drinks first at Claridges and this is where I first notice 2 things.
1. This guy is LOADED. Seriously, even by my standards he is RICH. He also knows EVERYONE at every nightspot in London.
2. He is OLD. Older than he first said. He told me he was 41, a young looking 41. That I could handle. When I told a secretary at work she assured me that her husband is 20 years older than her too and it's fine. So I was fine with the whole 41 thing. It turns out he's 42. That means he is exactly DOUBLE my age! That's just not right! And although he's good looking - he does look 42. Every day of it.
It occured to me that our dating is the equivalent in age as to me going out with my friend F's baby. I know it's different as you get older the gap closes and also it's ok for men to be older than women but whoa!! 21 years is alot for me to digest! As my friend N pointed out - he is about 3 years younger than her dad. Eiw. Funny how money can change your point of veiw though isn't it.
We end up going for dinner at Aspinalls and I notice (ooh here's the jew coming out of me!) that
he heavily tips the valet guys - Hello!! I could park it for him for £20! No, no, NO! Mustn't think like a jew anymore. I shall continue. Went inside and obviously I looked a bit shifty as not only did I have to be signed in (normal protocol for member's only clubs) but I also had my driving licence taken, my address checked and my picture taken! OTT maybe?
Dinner went perfectly and when I didn't know what to choose he told the waiter that he wished to order EVERYTHING on the chinese menu! What? Is this guy crazy? So there
I am about to have a duck pancake (my favourite thing) and he and the waiter both fight to put the duck into my pancake for me - I can't even do it myself. It goes the same with every dish I lean toward or even look at. Before I know it my little white-gloved waiter is there already putting some on my plate. It was nice - but a little overbearing!
The waiters which outnumbered us by a ratio of about 4:1 and suddenly appeared with a lighter the minute my date got a cigarette out were alway hovering about. Not only that but the place was so darn quiet that I became quite self concious of our conversation. What do you say when you know everyone's listening?
This is where it turned tricky - he started joking about me staying there the night, I mean, as if! I don't even have any cleanser or a tooth brush or clothes for tomorrow! I mean, err... no as if on a first date! He was starting to hold my hand across the table and I knew I was in trouble. My problem is I am not assertive enough. I can't turn people down face-to-face and it's really a problem! Well anyway we leave there shortly afterwards as it's getting late and before I know it I am kidnapped and taken to his house, literally. I am in the car saying no I really should go home now and he just keeps going. He is still really nice though so it's ok.
He lives in Kensington High Street in a really nice building and he has a strange cat who was giving me evils. Now I worry about men with cats. My mum used to have a long-time-single friend who had a cat. He used to make all sorts of jokes about what the cat and him got up to on those lonely nights - but it does make you wonder... wonder then heave.
I refuse to sit down and point out that I was technically being kidnapped but eventually realise he isn't bad but just a little eager. (When was the
last time he had sex? I wonder if he takes viagra?) All these thoughts going round in my head. I kiss him and it's ok - he is actually really nice I just hate being 'forced' into a situation I'm not happy with and wanted to be on my way home already. Luckily my moaning paid off and before I knew it I was in a car on my way home breathing a big sigh of relief.
The next day I get several emails from friends asking how the date went and I find myself reflecting on the night. Did I really like him or was it a classic case of the 'fluff' again that I first experienced with The Kuwaiti? I know I wasn't gagging to see him again but that was the whole purpose of this site - it wasn't for people to fall in love and get married. Not primarily anyway. Whenever I'm confused I always write my feelings down. I did this in the form of a list of pros and cons about the night.
Cons
usual dose of UV rays to clear it up - unfortuantely it all went horribly wrong which resulted in the burning of my face and I spent all day at work explaining my unusual crispy appearence to my colleagues. My skin was so hot and tight across my face I had to freeze wet paper towels and hold them to my cheeks and forehead to calm it down. Thankfully, by 5pm most of the swelling had gone down and all that remained of my 'accident' was some redness that could be covered up by makeup. The plan of action was into full swing - 5pm - discreetly pop out to the bathrooms and uncover makeup that was hidden away earlier, spend next 20 mins trying to make skin appear non-red and clear - misson accomplished!I return to the office and remove all items from bag that I don't need that night, spray some perfume about, put on my carefully pre-selected jewellery and add some serum to my hair. Perfect. It's half five - back out to the toilets double checking I haven't forgotten anything as I go.
I change into black corset I bought just after I had my operation that looks great on (according to my friend, S, who if I ever doubt what to wear points out that this top is always a winner!),
put on some eyeshadow (ooh a new sparkly boujious one I bought especially for tonight!) and realise - SHOCK HORROR - I don't have any mascara! Luckily I work in a building that has a Boots just below it so run in, pay for one and head on down to the tube. Spend next twenty minutes squeezed tightly between sweaty shirts and an old tramp-like man on a seat which positions his face about 2 inches from my chest stares the whole way. Nice start!I meet him at Green Park tube station and he picks me up in the nicest car I have ever seen ("that don't impress-a me much" - Shania Twain stylee) and I find out soon after the man collects.... not stamps, no, cars! He has 2 Aston Martins, a Mercedes and a Porshe - so unfair! First impressions were good - he seemed really nice and I felt immediately comfortable, not like there were going to be any uncomfortable silences. We go for drinks first at Claridges and this is where I first notice 2 things.
1. This guy is LOADED. Seriously, even by my standards he is RICH. He also knows EVERYONE at every nightspot in London.
2. He is OLD. Older than he first said. He told me he was 41, a young looking 41. That I could handle. When I told a secretary at work she assured me that her husband is 20 years older than her too and it's fine. So I was fine with the whole 41 thing. It turns out he's 42. That means he is exactly DOUBLE my age! That's just not right! And although he's good looking - he does look 42. Every day of it.
It occured to me that our dating is the equivalent in age as to me going out with my friend F's baby. I know it's different as you get older the gap closes and also it's ok for men to be older than women but whoa!! 21 years is alot for me to digest! As my friend N pointed out - he is about 3 years younger than her dad. Eiw. Funny how money can change your point of veiw though isn't it.
We end up going for dinner at Aspinalls and I notice (ooh here's the jew coming out of me!) that
he heavily tips the valet guys - Hello!! I could park it for him for £20! No, no, NO! Mustn't think like a jew anymore. I shall continue. Went inside and obviously I looked a bit shifty as not only did I have to be signed in (normal protocol for member's only clubs) but I also had my driving licence taken, my address checked and my picture taken! OTT maybe?Dinner went perfectly and when I didn't know what to choose he told the waiter that he wished to order EVERYTHING on the chinese menu! What? Is this guy crazy? So there
I am about to have a duck pancake (my favourite thing) and he and the waiter both fight to put the duck into my pancake for me - I can't even do it myself. It goes the same with every dish I lean toward or even look at. Before I know it my little white-gloved waiter is there already putting some on my plate. It was nice - but a little overbearing!The waiters which outnumbered us by a ratio of about 4:1 and suddenly appeared with a lighter the minute my date got a cigarette out were alway hovering about. Not only that but the place was so darn quiet that I became quite self concious of our conversation. What do you say when you know everyone's listening?
This is where it turned tricky - he started joking about me staying there the night, I mean, as if! I don't even have any cleanser or a tooth brush or clothes for tomorrow! I mean, err... no as if on a first date! He was starting to hold my hand across the table and I knew I was in trouble. My problem is I am not assertive enough. I can't turn people down face-to-face and it's really a problem! Well anyway we leave there shortly afterwards as it's getting late and before I know it I am kidnapped and taken to his house, literally. I am in the car saying no I really should go home now and he just keeps going. He is still really nice though so it's ok.
He lives in Kensington High Street in a really nice building and he has a strange cat who was giving me evils. Now I worry about men with cats. My mum used to have a long-time-single friend who had a cat. He used to make all sorts of jokes about what the cat and him got up to on those lonely nights - but it does make you wonder... wonder then heave.I refuse to sit down and point out that I was technically being kidnapped but eventually realise he isn't bad but just a little eager. (When was the
last time he had sex? I wonder if he takes viagra?) All these thoughts going round in my head. I kiss him and it's ok - he is actually really nice I just hate being 'forced' into a situation I'm not happy with and wanted to be on my way home already. Luckily my moaning paid off and before I knew it I was in a car on my way home breathing a big sigh of relief.The next day I get several emails from friends asking how the date went and I find myself reflecting on the night. Did I really like him or was it a classic case of the 'fluff' again that I first experienced with The Kuwaiti? I know I wasn't gagging to see him again but that was the whole purpose of this site - it wasn't for people to fall in love and get married. Not primarily anyway. Whenever I'm confused I always write my feelings down. I did this in the form of a list of pros and cons about the night.
Cons
- As old as the day is long. Ok he's 42 but he LOOKS old! People SO know what the deal is
- Kept on and on and on about me staying there (needy)
- Technically kidnapped me which is plain wrong
- Has a cat
Pros
- Absolutely MINTED - as neither of us are looking for love here this factor is important
- Took me to all my favourite places in London
- Has a house in Kensington which is v handy to get to work from and for staying out late!
Actually SAID the magic words: 'I will buy you a beetle!'
See and this is where it gets tricky. It's the thing the Bible warned me about. Temptation. I really do believe that if I went out with him on his terms until christmas I WOULD get a brand spanking new cream, leather interior cabriolet VW Beetle - my FAVE car!! I can almost see it sitting on my driveway! Is it really a good enough reason to stay and entertain this overly-paid overly-old man for a month or two?? As I always do I should think of it financially. It is a financially wise decision and I think I should go for it. He knows what I want and I got what he needs (in the words of Nelly Furtado!)
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