What the fuck is wrong with people. Julies interne

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What the fuck is wrong with people. Julies interne’What the fuck is wrong with people’ An internet dating story.I’m Julie, I’m 47 (gulp) and I’ve decided I need to find the man of my dreams. Failing that I shall do a Shirley Valentine and go to Greece. Thereupon, I will meet a man named Costas who will take me aboard his boat in the greek sunshine. After laying me down before him, he will kiss my stretch marks and tell me they’re lovely.Before I begin, you should know that when I was thirty I decided to write a bucket list of all the things that inspired me. There was so much that I longed to do, from food I wanted to taste, rude things I needed to try (let’s not elaborate), places I craved to see, destinations to go to and adventures I had yet to experience. My list grew with the years as I learnt of more things that inspired me. Having a list wasn’t enough. I had to begin the list. So I did.It’s been amazing, the brilliant things I’ve done and I feel so very lucky to have done them. Having crossed off around fifty things, the remaining twentyish need a partner beside me to complete. So here I am. I know what I want and this is the story of what came about.I’d had a twenty year relationship with a man who did have a pulse but was actually dead. So I got rid of him and spent a year single just working non stop. The work paid well but was thankless. As the new year of 2019 struck I realised that it was a year wasted. Hence I quickly made my new years rezzie (yes of course the one about losing weight!) But more to the point were the other ones, I would cut my working hours, have more time for me and set out to find the man of my dreams. Well I can confirm that cutting my working hours happened! January took hold and I joined a dating website – apparently it’s the way forward. I really thought that if I’m single and other people are single then surely dating would be a simple idea. I got chatting early on with a man named Stephen. He was a nice bloke, polite and friendly. He had good values and I liked his outlook. He lived in Stainton village, a lovely place. He was an electrical engineer and an easy man to talk to. 6ft tall, bald, blue eyes, trim. I was chuffed, this was it. We talked about everything and anything for a few weeks. Had I found my future companion? We agreed to meet in Middlesbrough and go for a meal together. I was nervous getting ready, I felt like a teenager again as I went and met Stephen. Like a virgin played in my head, not because I am one, but because it was those sort of nerves. Getting out of the car, he walked up to me and we greeted one another with a hug. We said hello, then walked into the restaurant making small talk. A few minutes later settled down with a glass of wine, we looked each other over (discreetly of course) and chatted away. My nerves quickly settled and it was nice to be in male company again. However, it was when Stephen laughed that the problem first presented. Before my eyes were 20 years of smokers teeth in an array of autumn colours. The horrific spectacle even included those special dark brown lines that accentuate each tooth’s shape. Not only did his teeth resemble varnished pine furniture but alarmingly the odour travelled across the table to collide with the moment I happened to inhale. In the absence of a pot of vicks and not wishing to deliberately recoile, l swiftly proceeded to sniff my wine with the appearance of being well educated.I briefly considered how much income he could generate if he set up his own company creating smelling salts to rouse the u*********s……..Now I don’t wish to be shallow, who does? If that had been the only problem I could have had a gentle word, something like ‘you can get them fuckers seriously jet washed……..:It quickly became apparent that it wasn’t the only problem.The restaurant had a nice ambient temperature so why then was he sweating badly. Within ten minutes his entire face and head were sprouting beads of sweat. They grew and gathered so much so that he had to keep sweeping them away with his hand. It made me think of those documentaries where the water trickles into streams, flows into rivers and floods the plains……..Now I do realise that it’s quite wrong of me, but at the same time its human nature too – when you view someone as boyfriend material you also imagine being intimate with them!Each time he lowered his wet hand back down to the table post stream/river/torrential sweep, I watched in horror as it dawned on me that he was an actual dripper. Now girls, you know what I mean when I say he’s a dripper, boys let me explain.Everyone sweats, I’m no exception, but imagining the scenario of him on top of me, hammering away…… I’d be fucking drenched and I dont mean in the good way. That fucker would drown me in his pouring sweat, then he would probably dehydrate and die. A double homicide. Looking at his wet hand, I knew at that moment that he could never be the one. I enjoyed the conversation, at a safe distance, and hoped the next person would be the man of my dreams.I got chatting next with a really lovely bloke called Chris. He lived in Redcar and worked across the country in store sales. We chatted a lot and he told me about the places he had been to in the UK and the hotels he had stayed in, it was really educational and I listened with interest. Chris was really keen to meet up and this was what I’d signed up for so it seemed like an obvious idea. A week later, February had arrived and it was so very cold. We agreed to meet at a country pub at Stokesly to spend a Saturday afternoon together.As Chris greeted me, the young trim man from the photos was nowhere to be seen. It had never occured to me to ask in what decade his photos had been taken. Well I guess you live and learn and I was here now, so I decided to continue with the afternoon. We walked into the pub and I felt deflated and disappointed but maybe there was hope. Somewhere.I asked Chris to get us a table close to the open fire while I went and ordered us drinks. Turning from the bar with a glass in each hand I moved towards him as he opened his jacket. What dropped out from that coat was a small planet, neptune or maybe pluto, possibly venus, i wondered briefly what the cubic mass was of each planet……..How on earth it had all zipped up in there and held was beyond me. That was not a zip made in china. I wondered where industrial toughened zips were made….. As the planet that fell from his coat eclipsed the weak winter sun, the pub was suddenly plunged into darkness. I had to stop and get my bearings for a moment. When the light returned, I acknowledged that yes it was wrong, but its also self preservation and human nature – my first thought was, ‘you can fuck right off if you think you’re resting that bastard on my back’.Anyway, I quickly recomposed myself, moved forward and handed him his drink as he stood there looking like peppa pigs dad. He waited for me to sit down and then took a seat opposite me, proceeding to talk to my chest. Now okay, it’s a cracking chest, but I knew already that he was never getting his chubby hairy mits on the twins!As we talked I studied him, noting the long nostril hairs and ear hole tufts, I didn’t realise that was a thing, maybe it was some kind of winter warming homegrown earmuff thing, combined with his oddly fat earlobes i wondered if i could find an opportunity to take a pic to show my Bezzie! Now I appreciate that beauty is in the eye of the beholder but I beheld none. None whatsoever.Being deprived of male company, I nevertheless proceeded to chat away and pass the afternoon. Now if you know me, you also know I’ve been a bit of a devil in my time, so I went on to tell him some of my tales. As I was telling them I was also creased up laughing while remembering. Time was moving on and
I was feeling hungry, so I asked Chris if he would like some lunch. He chewed on his thick lip for a moment before saying that actually, he didn’t really eat much. I glanced across at peppas dad pressed up against the table and thought to myself ‘yeah right!’So I got some menus anyway and then ordered us both some lunch. The waitress brought over placemats and cutlery and we resumed chatting. At the end of each funny story I told, he proceeded to tell me something about himself. He detailed his carpal tunnel surgery ordeal. He also told me how he had suffered with depression for two years and had then spent a week in a hospital facility! Listening to Chris I was aware that my wrist was slowly edging towards the sharp side of my dinner knife. Thankfully, my life was saved by the arrival of lunch. I tucked into my big flakey golden fish and fat brown fluffy chips with a silent thanks to God that it wasn’t my time to die. As we ate, Chris proceeded to tell me about his sensitive tummy and how he struggles to go to the toilet. I shit you not! Moreover, that mountain attached to his torso was definitely no tummy! I was astonished that he had said ‘tummy’. I have a tummy! His was a fucking globe! It made me think of those space hopers we used to bounce on as k**s (not that i intended to bounce on that bastard) Needless to say that by the end of the afternoon I needed the address of his hospital facility for myself!Before we left Chris told me how much he had enjoyed the afternoon and that I was a breath of fresh air. He hadn’t had such a good time in so very long. It was at that point I had to break it to Chris that I too had enjoyed the afternoon (well I can’t be outright mean can I!) However, I didn’t feel any chemistry present and wouldn’t be able to have a relationship with him.Well bugger me, he had a tantrum! His face that wasn’t actually blessed with looks anyway, turned to an ugly sneer as he said what a joke I was, how I had wasted his time and used him. He needed to make up his fucking mind, because a moment before it had been the best afternoon he had had in ages! I pointed out that I hadn’t used him, we agreed to meet to see if there was an attraction, for me there wasn’t. He said he hoped that the next person I met would treat me the way I’d treated him. Given that I’d paid for the drinks and lunch I was inclined to hope so too. Maybe the fucker had hoped for petrol money! I felt certain that the next man would be the one. After the misfortune of two dates that I named drippy and dreary, I felt Dan was great. He was number three. Dan lived in Brotton but I wasn’t going to hold that against him. It also didn’t mean he was necessarily interbred.We got chatting and laughing, I mean really laughing. He was so funny and quick with his wit. He was ten years older than me but that didn’t put me off. He wrote music and did personal security for work. I liked that he was a strong capable character. I slowed down a bit with Dan, I was more cautious. I asked him how old his photos were and zoomed in on his teeth for good measure. It all looked good though. He was really nice, sincere and we bounced off each other in humour, I’d not laughed that much in ages. Well of course we agreed to meet in Redcar one evening for a drink. In his company we sat chatting for a few hours and it was, well, nice. Was I attracted to him? I was unsure.I went on to see Dan again several times over the next few weeks. Each time I liked his company and he was very laid back but there was something I couldn’t get away with. It took me a while to realise it was because he kept licking his lips. Now I know everyone licks their lips, I lick mine too and that seems like me being really fussy. But I couldn’t help thinking of a reptile, like a lizard on those wildlife documentaries where the tongue keeps flicking out for a moment and then it’s gone again……. I just found it really disturbing, sort of leery/creepy. I was sure that tongue could have remarkable results in Australia (that’s down under), but I just couldn’t kiss him or feel attracted to him.He couldn’t help it, it was a constant habit he had and probably wasn’t even aware of. He also dragged out the word errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrm when he was talking and that wasn’t for me. I can’t take shit like that. So sadly that was the end of Dan.I felt a bit disheartened I admit, so I left it some time before I got talking to Jamie. It’s a funny thing when the internet signals bounce across the whole world and bring me someone just up the road from me, literally walking distance. Jamie had been working in Abu Dhabi for the last eight years, he had come home to see his grandc***d grow up and had secured a job down the docks. He wasn’t really attractive but his personality drew me in, he was brilliant. Best of all he was hilarious. Every day he would message me and always ask when can we meet? I resisted for several weeks but then number four-to-be finally had me agreeing. However, he made it to number 3.5!We were going to meet for coffee on the following Saturday and take it from there. As the days drew closer he was so sweet and funny. The day before we met, I finished up a few jobs in the house and facing a peaceful afternoon I made a cuppa, sat down and put my feet up. It was then that my phone pinged. I picked it up and clicked on it to see a photo of a willy! It was totally unexpected, I even spat my fucking tea out. It was a good cup of tea that was, what a waste, Yorkshire tea as well! Anyway, I zoomed in, like you do and was shaking my head totally speechless. I mean if I had a willy, I’d want to look online to see how it compares before I’d show it off. Jamie’s was just so very sad, practically crying. I almost welled up in empathy for him. It was just sitting there lost, swamped by a big brooding Amazon rainforest. I actually went off on a tangent for a moment wondering if I’d repaired my strimmer or if I hadn’t gotten round to it……….It’s not like there was a ruler in the photo, of course there wasn’t but the pitiful site before my eyes clearly was a willy, I was not looking at a cock. The 80s duvet cover in the background did little to make the scene any jollier either. I sent a message asking why he had sent me that photo. His response, he thought I’d like to see it. Was I meant to be grateful and drop to my knees begging for a suck? EeewwwwwwI told him that I wouldn’t be meeting him after all. He couldn’t understand and kept trying to persuade me to change my mind. He asked me why I couldn’t still meet, I said because I couldn’t unsee it! If he could show off his bits to anyone, he clearly had no respect for himself, so he would never have any for me.I definitely didn’t fancy a sausage sandwich for lunch that day, I went hungry instead. The following day at the hairdressers, I showed the girls his willy photo (obviously he was happy for it to be shown), there was a collective group pity for him.I was later diagnosed with ptsd.Next there was Simon, he worked on a specialist processing plant and lived in stockton. He was flirty and fun, laid back. I really couldn’t see the point in chatting for weeks. Better to cut to the chase. I checked out his photos, his teeth looked fine, there was no peppa pig and no private photos on his page. I agreed to meet. Simon didn’t drive so I picked him up and we went on to a pub in Stockton. Sat with a drink we started chatting and laughing. We were meant to be spending the afternoon together and other than the numerous times he went to the toilet with his phone for a while, we did! His body language wasn’t relaxed enough though and after two hours he said he had to get back. Well obviously he wasn’t interested. No problem, attraction has to be from both people and I was on the fence anyway. The thing is, when I dropped him off he said how much he had enjoyed meeting me, he apologized for cutting it short and hoped to do it again. Also, could he kiss me?I was totally surprised and as I looked at him I suddenly realised that I wanted to be kissed. It had been over 18 months since a
man had kissed me. So I said yes. Sitting in my car that Saturday afternoon Simon kissed me and it was lovely, I was kissing a man again, woooohoooooo, I didn’t want it to end. He asked if he could message me later and he waved goodbye. I was like the proverbial cheshire cat driving home. I’d had a kiss!!!Later on I received a message, “so I’m thinking……”What are you thinking? I asked. His reply, “’36d” Oh ffs! What a twat, I didn’t even reply. What a total fucking prick, im a double D.A while later he messaged again saying how much he was attracted to me, had enjoyed kissing me and that he wanted to see me again. Well that was more respectful, so I replied that it had been nice to meet, and yes it was a lovely kiss. Simon then told me that while he was kissing me he was going to put his hand up my dress, he wanted to know what i would have done. I responded with Goodbye and that was the end of number fucking four! When I was a teenager, the first time I’d experienced feelings for a boy I’d thought I would burst with joy, so imagine my surprise when number 5 turned out to be that boy from over thirty years ago! He had recognized me straight away from my eyes and had said hello. Now things were looking up! We chatted and laughed about how we were back in the day and I asked after the other people who had been around. It was great having a good old catch up. Andrew was in Germany where he was based. He worked for the British and American army as a gun inspector on the tanks. He told me that he had one more tour and then he was leaving, returning to england for good. The weeks passed and we talked so much. The odd thing was that everyday he wanted to know what colour knickers I had on. Wtf? What difference to anything did that make? He was adamant that he just loved to know. He went on and on until I relented, so I just named a colour each day without even looking just to humour him, I guess we all have our little quirks! (I Thought it best not to mention they were my big comfy period knickers) I did look forward to seeing him again though. Then one day out of the blue he messaged me and said would I come and have a drink with him? I thought he was joking but he wasn’t.Andrew eskişehir escort told me he had flown back into the uk for a couple of weeks leave. I got ready and went to middlesbrough to meet him. Walking into the pub, he stood up and grinned at me waving me over. He was tiny, maybe 5ft 3″. His slight boy’s body had remained just the same while his face had become a tired old man’s. He downed his pint, put it beside the three other empty ones on the table and went to the bar to get us a drink. I watched as the barman served everyone around him and noted how unassertive he was. After an age, he came back with two drinks and said how great it was to see me. The pub was really loud and busy and I couldn’t actually hear his low murmuring voice from across the table. I feel that I nodded in all the right places though and managed to look interested. When he paused for my response, I’d just gush over how weird but great this was. I possibly talked louder than necessary overcompensating for his mutter. To be honest I was bored and found him lacking in character. I looked at his dead eyes and watched his lips move. I thought about those sign language people on tele that stand off to one side and do all them aircraft landing movements when you cant hear a fucking thing……. I then pondered on what episode I was upto on the walking dead. When he stood up and said come on (I felt quite proud that I’d successfully lip read that, good job I’d still been watching his lips move) I realised we were going somewhere quieter.As we got into my car I debated leaving the booster seat on the passenger chair, wondering if he would like to sit tall like a big boy. I decided it may not be received well and so I moved it for good measure. Hoping the police wouldn’t stop me for having a c***d without a c***d seat I drove off.We went to a quieter pub in Longlands and I bought us some drinks. We talked some more but I was unsure of what to say in case he had already covered that in the last pub where I’d just been nodding along. Fortunately, he continued talking in his low monologue. It came to me then that I was onto season seven after all (the walking dead) around mid way through. Andrew told me about his two grown daughters that he didn’t see or have contact with. Then about his ex getting pregnant from an affair but how he had supported her and how upset she was. He was pathetic! I was totally unsure how his skinny boy’s body hadn’t slithered to the floor in a floppy heap because there was no spine holding him up. I said I had to get going, that there was something really shit on the tele I wanted to watch. That was the moment he actually told me that he had been in england for the last five months! He had lied to me pretending he was in Germany. He was on sick leave but hadn’t touched the whiskey in all this time. Could I get him a few pints in though before I left because he was skint?He didn’t get those pints and I never wanted to see him again! Ever. Number six was Peter. We got talking one evening and had really good banter but at this point I wasn’t sure if I wanted to meet anyone else. I wasn’t going on POF very much, yet each time I did, there was another message from Peter. I wasn’t sure that he was my type but as these things go I eventually agreed to meet. Peter lived in Stockton, he was a gas fitter and had been single for over nine months. He was fitting a new kitchen in his house and told me to pop over and he would put the kettle on and have a chat. I agreed to go over and he then told me he wasn’t really 5ft 8″ he was actually 5ft 5″! Not great news, but he’d also said no expectations, not a date, just a chat and a hello. I had a free afternoon so I couldn’t see the harm.Peter opened the door with a big grin and invited me in. He showed me his work in the kitchen, he was clearly very clever and a perfectionist. He put the kettle on and asked me to sit down. I knew straight away that I wasn’t attracted to him. He was a really odd looking little man, and he needed to knock another inch off that 5ft 5, ffs.We sat there chatting in his sitting room and the conversation really flowed, we talked and laughed and time honestly flew, before I knew it I’d been there for hours. Something very strange had happened, his personality and happiness were so infectious and I thought he was great! Seven hours we drank tea and talked, I loved his character, he was cheeky and funny and warm. We said goodnight and I drove away with a huge smile. I wanted to see this odd little man again. He was a really nice man.Well we did meet again. Peter loved life, he was so animated. We spent more time together and it turned into a relationship. I enjoyed his enthusiasm and big personality very much. We went out for a lovely meal that first week, an official date, it felt great to be part of something new. Peter was such good company. I didn’t want to go home again to mundane things after time with him, he was so easy to be with. The days turned into weeks and we would have entire weekends together. We were great, we talked non stop and were always laughing. I’d cook us nice meals, we would cuddle up watching films, eat indian takeaways, talk endlessly and we even booked a weekend trip to London. Peter had ocd, his house was too clean and neat and I was careful to keep it that way. He would go into little rants about things that were on his mind, but we settled into a nice pattern whereby I would stop listening, so it was all good. Four weeks after we met I went away on a planned holiday for a fortnight. Peter was really worried that I’d meet someone else and have a holiday romance. That was never going to happen.Two weeks later on my return I was really looking forward to seeing him but something had changed. We spent the evening together and he was quiet. Over the next few days he became distant and then called an end to it. I was really thrown, gutted really. I couldn’t understand
why. It was a few weeks later when he told me that he was still in love with his ex and couldn’t get over her. I was furious that he had used me as a distraction to his loss. “A stepping stone that hadn’t worked”. All that time he had been pretending to be into me, he had really been thinking of another woman. I felt very used.Maybe it was time to turn gay and see if id have better luck there! The whole thing with Peter had knocked me off my stride and left me disheartened.It took me quite a while, a few months before I decided that it was worth another shot on POF. When I went back on the site, a man I’d chatted with previously was very pleased to see me again. He had asked me out several times already and jumped straight back in with more pleading for us to meet. Just a coffee. He lived in middlesbrough and ran his own shop. We had spoken often but the conversation always ran dry so I just wasn’t feeling it. We chatted on and off for a few weeks until I finally relented. The night in question I had just washed my hair to get ready and I walked into my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my head. My dress hanging on the wardrobe door was waiting and I sat down on my bed and looked at it. At that very moment I knew I wasn’t going to go after all. Feeling rotten about it I sent a message apologising profusely. I knew he was getting ready to see me and I hate messing people around. You see here’s the thing, he was called Barry.Now i know you will wonder what difference that makes but it does, it makes a huge difference. You see it’s a really gruff thuggish name is Barry. There really isn’t a soft or sweet way of saying it, even saying Baz doesn’t help. Going back to that human nature idea with our thoughts, I couldn’t help but think about it. I couldn’t have a relationship with him because there wasn’t a chance of getting intimate or having passion with a man of that name.There was simply no way of saying,”oh barry,…..oh oh oh….., I’m going to……..” because then the moment would be lost. I’d start laughing because I’d tried to say ‘Barry’ in a seductive way. It can’t be done. Even saying babe would make me laugh knowing I’d dodged saying Barry. On this basis it would appear that no man called Barry has ever made a girl cum. I really didn’t want a relationship where only one of us could cum and that wouldn’t be fucking me!So unfortunately I had to cancel and tell him I wasn’t interested. I felt bad about it though.It did however give me an idea about writing a new story. I could title it ‘The implications of naming your c***d’. I could dedicate it to Barry who I never met. (His fucking mothers fault)I spent a bit of time not going on POF, in the hope that Barry would meet someone with a less intelligent thought process in my absence. When I did go back on I got talking to Martin from stockton. He worked for the council and had evenings and weekends free which was great for me in pursuit of a relationship. We chatted into the night many times and he seemed really nice. It moved as a natural progression that we would meet. We planned to go to an indian restaurant one evening. Martin’s pictures looked nice and he was a very laid back easy man, I was looking forward to meeting him. Getting ready I had butterflies and wondered if this could be the one. I drove over to his flat to pick him up, we said hello and set off to the restaurant. Passing a really nice indian takeaway I had a change of mind and asked if we could actually cancel the restaurant and get food to take back to his flat. I wanted to be in his company to chat without other noise and distraction. So we bought indian food and went back to his place to eat. It was nice to share a meal over some good music and chat in person. He was an attractive man and really laid back. But also rather flat. I asked him if he had a bucket list, he said he didn’t. I asked him what his biggest dream was. He didn’t have one. I asked what adventures he had enjoyed and he shrugged. So I changed the subject to travel, a favourable topic of mine. He said he had been to kavos once. I asked if it was to drink. He agreed it was! Ffs To be fair he was a nice man, but he was happy working 9-5 and going out once a fortnight with his mates. He didn’t strive for more, he lacked drive, ambition, life and adventure for a girl like me. He wasn’t what I was looking for. So next came Paul, a local, he lived in normanby, he was an electrician and had raised his two sons alone. He had really good values and was looking for someone to share his happiness with. His photos were quite blurred but 5ft 8in, blonde hair, blue eyes, non smoker, wanted to travel…… he sounded like he had potential. We agreed to meet in a pub in normanby. I arrived first and bought a drink while I waited for him. I felt quite hopeful to be honest. Suddenly, there he was walking towards me with a big grin. A seriously very big grin.Now don’t get me wrong, I’m an a****l lover and I adore horses. But a man with a mouthful of horse teeth was not quite so endearing. As he greeted me with ‘hello im paul’, I smiled back stunned thinking fuck me!He got a drink and joined me at the table telling me about his day. Well I couldn’t help but keep looking as he spoke, there were so many teeth in there. I wondered briefly what the Guinness world record was………If a woman and horse had ever convinced a hybrid……. I then wondered if the dentist/vet would charge double for an appointment…….Paul was a nice bloke who was clearly lonely. I didn’t mean to be shallow, but I just couldn’t feel any attraction to him. It’s a real shame he had never got his teeth fixed. He’d have saved shit loads on dental floss. My next encounter was James. A hartlepool man. Witty and cute. I was sure to ask for a photo of him smiling and all was good.James was 6ft, nice build, self employed and did contracting work. He had to travel often for work but that was ok, I have my own life and circle of people, so seeing him when he was home would be fine. We chatted nearly every day for a week and then agreed to spend an afternoon together at a pub in stockton. Meeting James, he swept me up off the ground in a big hug and had me laughing straight away! He headed straight to the bar and ordered us drinks, then sat beside me and didn’t shut up. We sat talking and laughing and I liked the sparkle in his eyes. It was going really well until he excused himself for a few moments. James the non smoker returned to sit beside me in a big cloud of fag stench. He fucking stunk. It was then explained that he wished to be a non smoker as thirty a day was no good for him. Arrrghhhhhhhhhhh! His bottom lip frequently did this weird little involuntary quiver thing. I’d watched it a few times in fascination, but made sure I held my own bottom lip still knowing I wanted to have a go at trying it. (It was something me and my bezzie could practice for one another later on)Now I had been willing to let his quirk slide. But ffs I can’t be with a smoker. The smell is vile and I’m getting older, I’m not wasting my years with a man who risks serious illness and stinks. Come to think of it, the lip quiver thing wasn’t that okay either.James really liked me, he wanted to get to know me and have a relationship with me. He even promised to stop smoking. It was too late though. I wasn’t interested. The smoking thing is a big deal for me but an even bigger deal is that he lied to me. Lied so easily about something so obvious, I wasn’t waiting around for more lies. So that was the end of james.My next encounter was a bit of a funny story. My car battery was knackered and the internet had conflicting advice on the battery size I needed. It was a sunday night so I couldn’t phone the garage. Checking my battery, the information on it had worn away and I couldn’t find my manual either.So I was quite frustrated when a message came up saying ‘hi beautiful’. I glanced at it and the location was Leicester. I never answer messages that aren’t local but as I was about to dismiss it, I saw that his profess
ion was mechanic! Seizing the opportunity I said hello to Andy and thanked him for his message before asking him which battery I needed. He told me which one and I was happy to get my online order completed. I couldn’t very well say thanks and bye so I kept chatting. Only it wasn’t just a chat, it really flowed. From 10.30pm that night the chat moved to a phone call by 1.30am. The talking and laughing continued all night until 6am, then both of us very reluctantly said goodnight and got one hour of sleep each before getting up for work! My head was full of him all day and he kept texting and calling. We didn’t run out of conversation and his accent was hot! His photos were cute too. That night we chatted all evening through until 4.30am! What on earth was happening here? I couldn’t stop smiling, something was occuring that I could never have foreseen. My phone was on fire that week, whenever we said goodbye or goodnight, I looked forward to the next time we would speak. In the early hours of Thursday morning Andy told me that he really needed to meet me, that he was going to drive up on Saturday. It was mad really. Impossible to consider a relationship with someone from so far away. But then another thing happened and it was as though fate had this in store. I was told I wasn’t needed for work on Friday.That never normally happened! It appeared there was a series of events that was leading to something. So I did something impulsive and asked Andy if he would rather I join him, for a whole weekend. I booked a coach trip to take me to market harborough on the friday. I’d arrive at teatime as he finished work. Everyone thought that I’d lost the plot, but that was nothing new! I wanted to do something spontaneous and exciting. So I did. It took four and a half hours successfully not puking before that coach finally arrived in Leicester. What a shit hole, I had to step over d**gged up people asleep on the pavement to go get some coffee while I waited for the bus onwards. I guess that was the point when I began to question my sanity. The bus service seemed to drive around the whole of Britain before I finally reached market harborough. I was the last stop and Andy was standing waiting for me. Chatting with the driver as he pulled into the stop, I was suddenly nervous to look. Willing god to be kind I turned to get off the bus and there he was. Peppa pigs fucking fat twin brother smiling at me.Ffs! Aaaaaaarrrgggghhhhh. I stepped off the bus and with instant regret I watched it leave. I said hello to a man who clearly had posted photos from long ago before he had gained a fucking planet on his torso. Leaning over the planet I gave him a hug.As that last bus of the day turned the corner in the distance, I knew I was now stuck here for the weekend with a man I had no attraction to. Deciding to make the best of it and enjoy his company at the very least, we headed to his car. That was when he first sneezed. Well, I say sneeze, he did this very weird high pitched noise that reached a crescendo then dropped away again, in order to contain it. It was quite bizarre. Abit like a pneumatic machine firing up then dropping out again. (No I didn’t want to have a try.) Ok, in my head I maybe did it silently! We drove to his flat where I’d agreed to stay (in the spare room) and greeted his little dog Tia, who kept leaping up at me. I love dogs, I really do, but she didn’t seem to have any discipline. He told her to stop but she ignored him. Leaving my bag there we headed off for a walk into the woods with the dog that had been home all day. I was glad of the walk after a long journey and the sunshine was glorious. Walking along chatting, I noticed that when he spoke to the dog she didn’t even glance at him and did as she pleased instead. Tia was his world, the c***d he had never had and his love for her was quite obvious. Taking Tia back to the flat, we then walked down into a lovely village and had a drink in the beer garden of an old pub. Andy was glowing. He was so glad I was there. Even though I wasn’t attracted to him, his happiness was contagious. escort eskişehir He was a nice man and I was in a lovely village that was going to have a beautiful sunny weekend.I raised my glass and decided to enjoy this break after all, with some nice company. Andy had done that bizarre sneeze thing several more times but I decided to push it from my mind, it wasn’t important. Back at his flat Andy got out some menus and made a cuppa. We decided on some Indian takeaway food. He went off to shower while I placed the order and Tia rummaged in my bag. When the food arrived we were sitting on the sofa and Andy got plates for us to spoon the food onto. He set the naan breads in the middle of us both while Tia tried to jump up. He told her no as we opened the cartons and shared out the food. Then the dog turned manic leaping off the ground trying to get on the sofa and at the food. It made me think of zebedee from the magic roundabout with a spring instead of legs……….Andy gently said ‘Tiaaaaaaah noooooo’ again and again, as I moved my feet around to block zebedee. As we began to eat the dog did high pitched yelps repeatedly alongside the leaps, so Andy tore off some naan bread to reward her behavior. As the dog ate the bread and we had a moment of silence, I turned my head to a loud Hhhommm next to me as Andy bit into his food. Chewing away he breathed heavy, deep and loud from his nose in concentration. He shoveled in fork after fork at the speed of light. I briefly wondered if the speed of sound or light was faster as I watched on in horror………… Hhhommm, Hhhommm, Hhhommm. The sound and sight of him eating was vile, like a pig at a trough snorting and snuffling. He was disgusting.The dog having swallowed the bread went at it again to try and get on the sofa and at the food, yelping with anguish. This time I welcomed the sound and distraction, tapping out a fucking ballet with my feet to prevent her landing on my plate.I’d had two forkfuls and was hungry so tried to eat my meal and focus on the tele. Andy had quickly finished eating (thankfully) before I’d eaten a quarter of my meal. He got up and went to the kitchen to get Tia a treat (was he fucking gormless rewarding that dog’s appalling behaviour?) Tia saw her chance, ignoring being called into the kitchen she leapt onto the sofa instead. I shoved her off with force onto the floor and held my food closer. Andy sat beside me again with a deep burp that turned my stomach and I tried to concentrate on my food. After the meal watching tele, we sat together and watched a quiz show trying to get the most answers. Andy produced an apple and the fucking Hhhommm, Hhhommm, Hhhommm started back up again ffs. We watched a film, then I said I was going to go to bed and was looking forward to a nice day out the following morning. In bed I relished the peace and being away from them two. I closed my eyes in the silence and stillness of the night. It wasn’t much later when I flew up in shock as Tia’s frantic burst of hysterical barking outside the door alarmed me. I wondered what was the matter. I then heard Andy’s voice gently saying ‘Tiiiiaaaaaaah stop itttt’. More like a request really. I lay back down my heart racing and soon fell back to sleep. Once again, before long, I bolted up in alarm at the dogs hysterical barking. All the windows were open and the night was silent, I had no idea what she could have heard. Again Andy’s request, ‘Tiaaaaaaaa behave yourself’ (maybe he should have added please?) that dog totally ignored him. I lay back down and eventually drifted off before once again being shocked awake. I asked what was going on, Andy had no idea and asked Tia to go lay with Daddy. I lay down and went back to sleep and before long guess what? It was one very long night, by the tenth time I was shouting at him to stop talking soppy and fucking wallop it! He decided she might settle better cuddled up on the sofa with him. Thirteen times that dog went off it that night. Never even had a raised voice, just gentle coaxing to pack it in and go lay with dadddyyy. The
following morning my head hurt and I was tired and felt irritable. I walked into the living room where Andy was laid out on the sofa. He was topless. His white pasty swollen belly was quite enormous, it looked like he had swallowed a really big beach ball, maybe he had done the Hhhommm, Hhhommm, Hhhommm snuffle snort as it had gone down.Averting my eyes in self preservation of permanent emotional damage, I went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Opening the fridge to get the milk I noted six bottles of various wines. I asked Andy beachball pandy if he liked to have a drink at home. He said no, he didn’t really drink in the house. I looked at beachball, back again to the wine and sighed. I wanted to go home.Setting the drinks down the dog caught the corner of my eye and moved away from a wet patch on the carpet. Andy noticed too and said ‘awwww Tiiiiaaaaaaaa, have you dribbled?’ He then switched on the carpet washer that was pre loaded ready to use and went over the patch.I went for a shower and took deliberately long getting ready. I was shattered but the sun was getting out and it promised to be a beautiful day so I perked up. Andy went and got ready as that dog jumped on the sofa for a cuddle with me. I shoved the bastard back down into the floor with a few choice words. Andy made us a second cuppa and we discussed the day. I told him that I would be paying for a room that night. Devastated to hear this, he offered to take Tia to his mams to stay. I agreed that would work even though it was a 120 mile round trip, I just couldn’t cope with his dog. We settled on a plan to walk out into the village and park afterwards. As we spoke, Tia walked across the lounge and squatted down and had a full piss. I was mortified. I looked at Andy in horror and he said ‘oh Tiaaaaaaa!’. It was at that point, desperately tired and with a pounding headache that I lost it. Turning on Andy I told him he was fucking pathetic. The vile little bastard hadn’t dribbled at all, it had squatted for a full piss because it could! All fucking night the twating thing had stopped us sleeping and he had coaxed and cuddled it. The bastard a****l needed belting. Vets were there to put annoying twats like that to sleep. Mimicking his pathetic tiaaaaaa voice, I told him he was a fucking door mat and that dog knew it. It didn’t even listen to him one bit because it didn’t have to. I went on to say thank fuck he hadnt had c***dren when a dog had control over him. His k**’s would have been out of control little shits. He was never going to have a relationship because no woman would put up with that pure bastard of his pathetic manner. He was to get that fucking dog out of my fucking site because for the rest of my life I never ever wanted to set eyes on the bastard again.Having spoken down to Andy in such a vile outburst, I was staggered just he took it! That mutt, his world, his universe that he had had for years he agreed had been quite naughty! What the fuck? He didn’t even know me and he just took me speaking to him like that about his baby? I looked at him and told him he was spineless and would never have the respect of a woman. He took Tia for her morning walk while I calmed down, with the promise of going to his mams on his return. Not sure what the walk was for, its fucking bladder was already empty! Andy gave me a cuddle on his return, I leant over beachball and returned the gesture. We agreed to begin the day again.After a 120 mile round trip to drop that bastard thing off (that included kisses and fussing) and knowing he would have to do it again the next day I didn’t care. The sun was gorgeous and a nice day lay ahead.Returning to market harbrough we walked into the village where Andy bought his breakfast from a baker’s. I knew not to watch or listen as he ate. I was learning fast. The park was beautiful but seemed to set off his sneezing. I shut my eyes with my face up to the sun and knew fate was creased up screaming with laughter at this weekend of mine!A pub lunch improved my mood and a village fete was on that was so quaint, it was lovely. A fruit seller had some lovely produce so i bought some strawberries and raspberries to make an eton mess for later. Andy looked proud as punch walking round and being seen with me. I was much more relaxed knowing that the vile creature had gone. As we chatted he kept trying to kiss me, wanting to push his thick tongue into my mouth. ErrrghhhLater we put on a film and ate eton mess. I needed subtitles on to hear the voices over his Hhhommm Hhhommm Hhommm and heavy breathing. He lifted the bowl near his mouth and shoveled the food into his face as fast as he could. It made me think of a hog snuffling and snorting over its meal……..I ate my food slowly, tasted it and watched the film. Andy fat beachball pandy tried it on that night but I told him I wasn’t like that. I longed for home, one sleep and I could leave.The following morning Andy dropped me at the bus station in Leicester and it was with warmth and relief that I was happy to step over people on the path this time because it meant I could go home! Waving Andy off as he had to go collect Tia, I knew that my spontaneous decision of a weekend away had not been one of my better ideas! I was happy to stay single now and join a convent for the rest of my life. Anyone who knows me will tell you I don’t even possess a temper and I adore dogs, I honestly do! I took a long break after Andy fat pandy. Some considerable time later I began browsing profiles again. If nothing else it’s a source of amusement. The men fall into catagories. Most are looking for a relationship but at the same time they possibly are already in one. There’s a few things that create this suggestion,- they are wearing sunglasses and a cap pulled low. Now if you are into chins, these are still on view to be admired! The photos are blurry, dark or taken at distance but the picture of the dog or fancy car is close up, in splendid Technicolor and could be made into a canvas! Then there’s all the non-smokers who we have established include the actual smokers. Some actually have a photo with a fag on their lip. It’s interesting how those vapers who breath out a cloud of smoke like a dragon ran out of flames, put themselves in the non-smoking catagory too! The straight faced men make me laugh, they don’t smile whatsoever in their pics, they even look miserable. They show no warmth or personality, but to be fair to them, they could be hiding varnished pine colour teeth. Then there’s the men who have all their photos from inside the gym. Topless and flexing muscles, they’re practically gizzing over themselves in their own perfection. They offer their bodies up to the viewer because that’s all they have. Clearly they’re so in love with themselves that anyone else would never be as important.It’s the cars and fish profiles that confuse me. Obviously they have great pride in their own achievements. But honestly, don’t we all drive a car? and big slimy fish in their hands is quite repulsive to a woman! Obviously I skip past all these profiles but I’m not finished yet, because then there’s the ones who poke their tongue out in photos. Now I get that they assume they are looking provocative,sexy and fun. Unfortunately the reality is stomach churning and lewd as you fight off a desire to mention to them that they really ought to brush their rammy white tongues as part of their oral hygiene plan!.Those ones are bad I agree, but it’s borderline over whether the pouters look worse. Come on, it looks pathetic enough on women, but men pouting is a whole new level of looking ridiculous. It becomes evident quickly as to which profiles need skipping past. If a man has 6 great photos but there’s a can of lager in his hand or beside him in every one then he may not be the best catch! Finally there’s the cross dressers, i shit you not, who message to ask where you got your lovely frock from? Ffs someone shoot me now! When you actually come across an attractive man who is not incognito, lives local and could be promising, you then need to read his profile. ‘Very a
mbitious’, great! then reading what they’ve written it turns out that they like to have a drink on a weekend and catch up on some tele! Enjoy a bit of footie and like music!So with the best will in the world it’s something of a minefield, but let’s not forget that here’s all the single people, so it’s better to remain an optimist while your sanity holds out. Eventually I got talking to a beautiful man who appeared quite modest. He was in the army and was currently on his last tour of duty in the peace corps in Bosnia. At the end of the month he would be getting his discharge as he had served his years. Joshua dreamed of a loving relationship and a civilian life. He had a house in middlesbrough. We chatted mostly on and off over the coming days and obviously he thought I was wonderful. I asked him what school he had gone to and noted that he never replied, but spoke of something different. He was very homesick and he said how much he missed his precious Grammy who also lived in middlesbrough. It occurred to me that ‘grammy’ was an American term (yes I’ve watched the vampire diaries!) how strange.To help him visualize home I would tell him about my day. I’d tell him where I’d been, what roads were shut, what was being built, how we could go to Whitby for fish and chips etc.I thought he would like the references each day as he was aching to return. After several days, it occurred to me that he had never once returned a comment. It was almost as though he had no idea of where I was talking about. He had also used an American word for his superior officer too.Something was amiss but I had no idea what it was. He mentioned his nanna several times and I noted that she was no longer Grammy. I asked where she lived, he told me that she was in Borough bridge. Thats fucking Harrogate! I put his phone number into google on the off chance that i could get some info. I did, it was a florida number, registered 15 years ago. Now this made no sense but I let it play out because I wanted to see what it was. We chatted on and off for nearly 4 weeks. His discharge was delayed because his supervisor was in another country and was the one who had to sign him off. It wasn’t ringing true but my curiosity kept me engaging with him. He sent me several messages one lunch time after a month of chatting. I was out and didn’t return until after 2pm to see the texts. He was frantic, going out of his mind. His nanna was desperately ill and he was terrified she would die. He needed to get back to England and be with her as soon as possible. He had emailed his superiors about the urgent matter.He said he couldn’t breathe properly, he was terrified that she would die and please please help him. He needed me so much right now, needed my help. Nanna needed emergency care, she could have it provided the physician received payment before 1pm. I must help him, there was no way of sending funds from the base because it was secure. Could I pay the £1,200 right now? He would pay me back in person, hoping to be on tomorrow’s flight home. I had an hour to pass before the school run so I decided to play along for the entertainment value. I apologized for just seeing his messages and was horrified to hear his news. How was she? He told me that her sodium levels were really low and her heart rate decreased but there was help, treatment if payment was received. I asked where nanna was right now and he said she’s at home. The doctor has spoken with him and told him that she’s in a really bad way. There was only him, no other family, he had to help her, he was so frightened. (It was a real shame that he never clocked on that we have a free nhs.) He desperately needed her treatment paying so that it could begin. If I didn’t have the full amount then as much as I had to put towards it would be wonderful.Joshua’s heart was breaking, he felt so helpless. I said but it’s now after the 1pm deadline. Joshua assured me that it didn’t matter. The important thing was to pay now. I told him that I wouldn’t know how to get payment to his physician. Joshua sent me a link from a money exchange service and details of what to write. I went silent for a few moments to let the mug believe that I was thinking about it. I told him that I couldn’t do nothing. It was an awful situation, I felt that I ought to help. Joshua was ecstatic, he rained praise down on me, told me how wonderful and incredible I am. I basked for a few moments enjoying being on a pedestal. It made me think of those shrines that you walk up steps to and lay down flowers and offerings before bowing down and walking backwards hailing praise……… I assured Joshua that I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help and it wasn’t too much trouble. It was just over an hour drive in fact. I was going to drive over and take care of her! For him xxWell he was mortified! No no, that’s not necessary he replied. He told me that their family physician was with her, he had been with her all morning. He was waiting for payment to begin her treatment. Wow, I mean that is some incredible service, what a wonderful doctor. Especially if he’s a physician too, he must have flown all the way in from Florida! Please please please could I send the money now? I asked if she was normally quite frail and he said she was, it was why he was so worried.I asked if she was quite old and he said she was, his biggest fear was never seeing her againI asked if she had anyone at all in her life near by to her who could help, he said no she was totally aloneOh well, I declared, I think it’s best if she dies then.So that was the end of Joshua. It’s called a catfish scam, con men work them, reeling people in. I’d never heard of it before but I do know he was a crap con man! Not to be perturbed because in the last couple of weeks I’d been chatting with a bloke called Lee. He had a dry wit and made me laugh. He actually did live in Middlesbrough too! Lee was not the type I’d normally consider given that all his photos sported big muscles and he clearly loved himself. However, his easy manner and confidence were refreshing. We had just been chatting with no intention to meet, until the night my friend needed me to have a plus one. I invited Lee to join me on the 80s night in Redcar with my friend and her husband. Lee said it wasn’t his thing but if I wanted to come over to middlesbrough and have a few drinks and a laugh then I was very welcome.Nothing ventured, nothing gained I thought. Even though I knew he wasn’t for me, I figured it was a night out still.In person Lee actually wasn’t attractive, his profile was quite disproportionate but he preened over his own body. Within moments I knew he was lacking any real depth but figured I was there so just make the most of it. As we talked and laughed Lee was in full flirt mode and ok it was flattering and also amusing. We drank and laughed and as I listened to him I saw past the great body and saw who he really was. He talked about women like he hated them, they were beneath his superiority. He knew everything about women and their ways and he couldn’t be wrong about anything. He actually told me that he’s been out and taken a woman home to bed, then cleaned his cock and gone back out to catch the end of the night and took another home.Lee was obnoxious. His sexual conquests sounded so empty. He had nothing in life, he was alone in a filthy rented property and had achieved and aspired to nothing.The way he continued talking in his im better than everyone else manner was something I hadn’t seen through text.In hindsight I should have left but at the same time I knew the alternative was a silent empty house again. I was also somewhat amused by his ugly attitude. Lee had been in a 20 year marriage, I concluded that his wife must have been mentally compromised to actually live with such a bigoted idiot.The next man I spoke to was a cyclist, he went all over traveling big distances and loved it. He was really easy to talk to and very content. Kevin lived in Redcar and cared a lot about the people in his life. As these things go, we went on to meet, sitti
ng in the sun having a drink he chatted but I could tell he was half hearted. I obviously and quite bizarrely didnt tick his boxs. That was a first for me, but I figured he most likely had visual impairment and didn’t like to mention it! Next came another Lee. Very solid dependable type. He was really close to his mum and had good values. He worked in an office. By this point I’d figured that nothing makes any difference anyway. You can only know in person if you are attracted to someone and if there’s any chemistry present or not. The same week we chatted, I suggested we meet. It was a weekend and Lee offered to pick me up. I’m not big on cars, but an old fashioned square 90s fiat pulled up. We said hello and drove to a pub. In his car there were several very old fashioned hardback western books on the back seat, they looked like something from the 70s with hand drawn original covers.Lee was nervous and making small talk as we arrived at the pub. I smiled and chatted to try and put him at ease. At the bar he asked for an orange cordial with water and whatever I wanted. Then he opened his wallet and went into the zip compartment to count out his coins to the exact amount. As he counted I studied his lonsdale v-neck fleece jumper that was over washed and very faded. There was something really eccentric about him.We sat down and because I talk so much (you probably haven’t noticed this!) He downed his drink before I’d had a chance to start mine. He was chatting too but he seemed really meek and dull. Lee suggested a drive out to Scaling dam so I agreed. I finished my drink and we set off.Getting out of the car he said he needed to get something out of the boot. The place was quite deserted and he was definitely strange so I moved a safe distance away as he got what he needed He approached me with a camera that he looped around his neck. I wondered if this was some kinky idea of his, but no, it turned out that he was an avid photographer! We walked towards the dam and he actually took photos of water. I’d noticed a puddle near the car that I could point out for him on the way back.He wasn’t a bad looking man really, he was just very flat. He was brazen enough to lean towards me and peck me on the lips as we walked around the dam. In that brief second that he touched my lips I inhaled him. He smelt stale. No soap, shampoo, aftershave, fabric softener, just stale, unwashed.I had already clicked that there was no chemistry but he had actually made no effort at all to get ready to see me. He was very odd almost like he was in the wrong decade and needed to be thirty years back. I wondered if there was something really shit on the tele i could have been watching instead.As we were near the jolly roger pub and I was bored, I said it would be nice to go there. I’d heard it was really nice with lovely food. We called in for a drink and this time he had a coke because I took my purse out. The people around us had lovely looking meals and my stomach grumbled. I asked if he was interested in eating, he wasn’t. Maybe he liked tinned spam or bread and dripping then! He drove me home after that, he actually said how much ‘fun’ it had been. wtf? But being me, I had to agree that it had been lovely (why can’t I just say it like it is!)Waving him away I was glad of the big bar of dairy milk I was about to comfort eat. I did a few lines and sighed with pleasure. I deserved the reward and finished the whole bar. What a strange fucker that one had been! Obviously you’re wondering why I bothered to continue. Me too. Next came David. He was a chef from lower heartburn in Stockton. He appeared to be quite flamboyant, a stark contrast to the last one. We’d done an amount of chatting and I wasn’t attracted to him, but had learnt that mannerisms and personality make you become attracted. So I agreed to meet.We met in a pub near Preston park. He was beaming, he was very warm and welcoming and we talked and laughed until we were the last customers of the night. He asked if he could see me again because it would make his day if I’d say yes. (He obviously had very good taste in women!) I was on the fence really, totally undecided. He seemed fun but I just wasn’t feeling it. I decided that it was worth meeting once more to be sure. David then kissed me goodnight. As our lips met, what began as a normal kiss turned into this bizarre suction out of synch thing that he did with his lips. I moved away to recover and we spoke a few minutes before saying goodnight. Then he moved in to kiss me again. Once more it began like a normal kiss but descended into this weird suction fast lips thing. I pulled away and asked what the fuck he was doing with a lips? It was messed up! He feigned surprise and I asked how many relationships he’d had. He said several, so then, why hadn’t he learnt how to kiss?I really don’t think he had put his thumb and forefinger together as a teenager to replicate a mouth and then practice snogging it……… Erm, I had never done that either of course! We agreed on a day out at the weekend and I shot into my car to dodge another kiss type weird thing. We chatted over the commencing days and then Saturday arrived. I’d been wanting to go to Vadah indian House in Stockton for some time, so I’d booked us a table for that evening. David picked me up and told me that our destination was a surprise and somewhere I would love. It was a gorgeous day so I just went along with it. An hour and a half later we were out in the countryside and I asked him where we were. He was telling me tales about how often he used to come out here and it was wensleydale country, we were going to a cheese factory. Did I like cheese? Well, erm it’s alright I suppose, if it was made of chocolate then maybe I’d like it more! My best mate would have creamed her knickers but ffs, cheese? I’d have been thrilled if he’d have said Cadburys world! I didn’t want to be a spoil sport though, so I agreed that it was definitely something different. The place stunk like sour milk and I resisted the urge to gag, hoping I wouldn’t have to admire some cows. We went into a factory and it was actually a guest centre with a big visitors shop and a coffee shop. I was up for coffee, so he found a single free table and I got us coffee and homemade cake. We talked and laughed but I still couldn’t decide if I liked him. Maybe not knowing was my answer, I would know if I did like him. We browsed the visitor shop and you’d have thought we were in harrods, the prices were ridiculous. As he chose himself a cheese selection I picked up a saucer from a dinner collection and couldn’t believe it was £13! I called over to David and holding it up I asked him what he thought it cost. He said £6. A few other people looked over so I said £6 for this saucer? Does anyone else say higher or lower? No one wanted to play though. I’m not sure they would have sold many. There was a small village along the road so we walked along and through the village. David kept stopping to break wind. After the third time I asked if he really had to keep doing that. He said but I’m saying excuse me. I told him that it didn’t excuse him though. Exhaling like a dragon on his vape I knew I couldn’t see any attraction at all. Back in the car he told me we were now going somewhere really good. I wondered how close cadburys world was……… He pulled into a car park a while later beside a visitors center and turning to me asked if I had seen the robin hood film? No, I hadn’t, not my thing but obviously I know the story. We walked down to where a river ran and created a waterfall. (Lee with his camera would have got hard) David explained how the section before us was where the fighting scene had taken place and he described it.Once again I wondered if there was anything really shit on the tele at home that I could have been watching!In front of that waterfall he tried to kiss me again. I wasn’t doing that weird shit, so I said we had to get going because of the table I’d booked.We drove back chatting and the day had been odd. I was excited about going into the restau
rant. I was hungry and looking forward to the food. We ordered drinks, shared poppadoms and chose a meal. It was delicious, worth the wait all day. I’m a slow eater though and I had told David this. He wolfed his meal down in no time and sat back looking ready to leave. I had barely made a dent in my meal and felt awkward then. I offered him some of my food and he started eating again. We queued at the till to pay and I noticed that he took a step back. I had intended to pay anyway as it had been my idea. He drove me home and asked if I was making coffee. Inviting him in I switched the kettle on but he kept trying to do his fucked up kiss thing to me! I pushed him away and told him to drink his coffee. We chatted briefly before he declared that he had to get going because he was too horny. Erghhhh, the dirty bastard hadn’t meant coffee had he? Was his lunch and tea not enough, he thought a shag was on the cards too? I dont fucking think so, anyway, we would never make it past the crappy weird kiss thing!I waved him off with some choice mutterings under my breath and then went on a hunt for a bar of compensatory chocolate! You can imagine by now that I didn’t have the same drive in me to bother anymore. I was verging on giving up. A man who I had chatted with on and off with over the months, had asked me out numerous times but he just wasn’t my type. If i actually had a type. A few weeks passed and there he was asking me out again. Just a drink and say hello, what harm could it do he said. I was half hearted but agreed to go for a drink. We met in a pub up flatts lane, as he walked up to greet me he looked like a little buddha with an odd shaped head. I sighed, because I’d known it was a bad idea. He got us a drink and I figured it was some adult company for a while. Chatting generally about anything I knew I’d made a mistake to come out. It was on my second drink (his fourth) not even two hours had passed when Michael asked me a question. He looked directly at me from across the table and actually asked, how long did I think it would be before I’d be sitting on his face? I looked back at his stupid grinning face and said that I suspected that would be fucking never! I finished my drink and said that I was off home. He had the gall to look gutted! He tried to persuade me to stay for another drink at least, but I’d had enough. Michael decided that as he was out and it was only 9pm, he might as well go into Normanby and have a few more drinks (just what his buddha belly needed!) He asked me to drop him off in Normanby and I said that I wouldn’t be doing that. But you are driving through Normanby to go home, he said. That’s right, I confirmed. Then he can jump if for a lift then couldn’t he? No, I said, he couldn’t. But it’s only down the road he moaned. Thats right I said, you can fucking well walk it. He was baffled by my attitude and asked why I couldn’t give him a lift. I’ve got c***d seats strapped in the car, I said. Can’t I move one he wanted to know? No I told him, not for you, you can walk! Set off now, I said, and I will wave as I drive past.I never bothered looking or waving. I’d hit the wall with this online dating shite. It was September by then and I decided I’m fine as I am. I deleted the sites and spent a winter with a decent supply of Cadburys and a smile.Five months later I got several bin bags to clean up all the wrappers, and considered getting back out there again.It’s 2020, so maybe this year would bring me some tantalizing treat.I joined the sites again and soon got talking to Ron.What an interesting man, he had travelled so much through europe, lived and worked in a few countries. He told me lots of tales and about different places, I had so many questions.Obviously I was going to go slow this time to be sure. We talked for weeks and chatted on the phone too. Eventually we met. I knew that Ron had COPD, but when I met him he sounded terrible, his breathing so loud and rattling. Now I didn’t mean to think it, but human nature and all that, we can’t help our thoughts. I thought he could potentially die on top of me! Euuuugh!! No chance of a relationship then! We had a cuppa and talked and I found that my thoughts were wandering instead of paying attention. Ron was from Stockton where the local chavvy dialect is really bad. Worse still, he seemed to have mastered it ten fold. It was every sentence filled with nonsensical words. I found it hard to stay interested and engaged in the conversation. Over the following days we text and chatted but I was disheartened. I couldn’t spend the next forty years listening to him talk. He would say to me – It’s a bit windy and everything and stuff like that. I’d tell him that his sentence had ended after windy! The last five words were nonsense. Ron kept doing it and stuff and everything like that, I don’t think he realized how much so. He also would also say ‘like I said…..’ and proceed to tell me something he had already said, with stuff and everything and that. Then he would repeat what I’d said!!! If I told him that I hadn’t heard anything yet about a booking, he would reply with – maybe they haven’t made an announcement yet. I’d point out that I’ve just said that!Then when he didn’t end his sentences with stuff and everything and all that, he would instead follow with do you know what I mean? I’d tell him that I did know because he had just told me. He would refer to himself twice in one sentence and I hate that. Although it is a teeside thing it’s also unintelligible. he would say ‘l love them me’. I’d reply, ‘you love them you?’ It was just senseless jargon over half of every conversation and I tried to tell him. I said that if I chose a silly word that made no sense – like ‘woof, then kept saying it, what would he think? How woof long, woof woof, would he be interested woof, in the woof conversation that we were woof having, before he got woof woof bored of it? Ron saw that we were clearly incompatible and decided that I was judgemental and condescending. He was a nice man with a big heart, I just never ever wanted to hear his voice ever again! Ever. And stuff and everything like that.It was a shame about Ron, because after such a long time I’d gotten my hopes up. Next I got talking to Dave. Now he seemed genuine, nice, decent etc. He was an engineer and lived in acklam. Divorced, older at 58 but young at heart. We chatted and got to know a bit more about one another and then went on to meet. Straight away he said he thought that I was lovely, which was really sweet and he obviously had taste. We talked and he kept attempting to kiss me. I wasn’t comfortable with how forward he was being and had to tell him several times to give over. He wanted to know if I liked him. I said that he seemed nice but I’d need to get to know him. We went for coffee and parked up and chatted away. I said that it would be lovely to meet again for coffee on Thursday and chat some more. Dave agreed. Over the course of the following days he told me things about himself. He told me he would love to be with someone who would wear a strap on, get his legs up over her shoulders and fuck him up the arse, would I possibly do that? Where the fuck do I find these people? Have I done something terrible in a past life? I wouldn’t join in with his sex talk and it frustrated him. He didn’t even know me and obviously thought that was my worth. I chatted with him on the Wednesday night and said I needed to say goodnight because my eyes were heavy. Dave replied that his balls were heavy. Dirty bastard.By the thursday, he text me to say that he thought it better to cancel the coffee. He couldn’t see the point as he was too horny and I wouldn’t indulge him. He could go and empty his sack into the toilet for all I cared.He never did reply.He’d probably gone to the toilet.So that’s where my story is at. I’ve sent my application to join the convent now so I’m waiting to see what happens. You never know mind you, there may be a tasty priest…….

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