Suggested Donation

I do sometimes wish clients would pay their fees more readily; when on a dating frenzy being assured of one’s income can take on a surpassing importance. Indeed, today I was speculating that one of the things about cruising, when one has access to transport, and particularly if done from the comfort of one’s own home, is that it is relatively cheap. No dinner, no drinks, no need for a versatile wardrobe; of course we must procure the rubber gloves so important when one is keen to shake hands frequently – but hardly a major expense. Yet with dating one must not only be liberal with the mullah, one must be seen to be liberal.

Gareth it seems missed his flight to Ireland and is now travelling on Friday – but the Emerald Isle’s loss is your Brown Eyed Boy’s gain gentle reader. On the ‘down side’ I have a date and we’re meeting on Wednesday, at the South Bank, at precisely the same time as Gareth is due to be there meeting his friends. But, this date is now reclassified as New Friend Type, rather than of the oft-repeated Next Ex Class, so I told Gareth when we spoke today that I would be around. Perhaps we’ll bump into each other. I suppose that might be a bit awkward – but the grist to the Daliesque mill of my logic is simply that I’m more likely this way to get what I want (whatever that is); what a good friend of mine calls a Peggy Compromise.

Anyway, I’m meeting Gareth again on Thursday at the very club where it all began (Barcode, Vauxhall)… let us hope this ‘no sex please, we’re British’ silliness might be overcome with relative speed – after all he’s flying out the next day (pm) and Friday happens to be my birthday (18 again for a record 13th year in a row; I am in fact the Mousetrap of eternal youth…) so who knows? As a loyal subject of Her Majesty ;o) I shall thoroughly disapprove should he attend to his own needs in a republic [blech]. Being of a mathematical bent I calculated I have been double-plus naughty with 46% of all the men I’ve *ahem* dated, so I ask: why is boyfriend territory such a desert? As has been described to me; whilst we construct great banquets in our mind we make do with egg and chips more readily than we realise. Ah well. I’ll be practising my come-hither eyelash fluttering look-I-have-an-ass-that-just-won’t-quit routine in the mirror just as soon as I’ve published this.

What I’m quite keen on with Gareth, for future dates, is more of the quiet night in scenario –stupid no sex rule poop – but I think persuading him that I’m quite happy to cook dinner and snuggle up in front of a DVD without a salute to my flagpole being expected is going to be difficult. On the plus side I have received some money from a client just today, so that will cover this week’s dates. And… erm… next week’s too - but I’ll blog about those in due course.

Memo to self: Wash ass-that-just-won’t-quit jeans