A Bit of Field Research

In a blog entry sometime back I bemoaned the fact that women’s profiles on Match.com tended to set a height requirement for someone much taller than themselves. A massive debate ensued (well, OK, four people offered their valuable input) and it was decided that women do indeed like their men to be much taller. This could be a bit of an issue for us shorter/average sized blokes out there.

Ordinarily, I tend to adhere to their height requirements and don’t bother contacting women where I'm not as tall as them. But when they are shorter than myself, and their profile strikes a but of an accord, I usually contact them. After all, you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t try out these sorts of things.

Still, it’s hard to tell whether my lack of height requirement has any real impact - especially as people of all heights and sizes tend to ignore me in equal measures – so, all in all, it’s not a very scientific investigation. Still, perhaps I could try and expand on this and pass myself off as a professor and obtain some research funding from some gullible institution. There certainly seems to be a lot of them about.

However, whilst out and about over the weekend I found myself walking behind a particularly beautiful lady with blonde hair (albeit out of a bottle) who also had a real peach of a bottom (sorry ladies, blokes do tend to notice these things). After nearly walking into a post, I then couldn’t help noticing the height of the bloke she was with. Not only was she well out of my league, but her heavily tattooed and rather scruffy looking partner (probably his “vintage” look) was nearly twice her height.

So, to further my research (and take my mind off her pert bottom) I decided to head for a local Costa coffee shop, grab a coffee and then sit in the window and watch the world go by. And it didn’t take long for my research to be proved – with the vast majority of hand holding couples wandering past the window consisting of a bloke who was always much taller than the woman. However, matters are made all the more worse by the simple matter of the more beautiful the woman, the taller (and more ugly) the bloke tended to be.

Going Anywhere Nice on Holiday?

I’m back from the dentist. It wasn’t at all traumatic – although the anaesthetic is still yet to wear off and I’ve been told that there may be some “mild discomfort” over the weekend. Eeep.

I started off by having two small injections that – and to the dentist’s credit – I didn’t feel a thing. That was my major worry over and done with and after a few minutes of sitting in the waiting room I soon felt like the Godfather or The Joker from Batman. However, once the drilling got underway I could still feel something, so out came the big guns.

Blimey, if I ever see a needle and syringe as big again it will probably be in use by a vet as he prepares to tranquilise an elephant. I also think he used enough anaesthetic to sedate an elephant because I’m still drooling like Professor Stephen Hawking at a beauty pageant and having trouble speaking without biting some part of my mouth.

So after much drilling, bashing, numerous x-rays and yucky impressions, I’m now equipped with a temporary set of crowns whilst my new ones are carefully crafted out of moon rock – or something similar. The dentist was also quite impressed with his own handy work too – a good sign if there ever was one.

Tsk. The things I go through in order to find my soulmate.

Mr. Pullum Will See You Now

Well, D-hour is rapidly approaching – and that’s D for drill.

Squeaky bottom syndrome approaches – although to be honest, I’m not really that scared. Even the thought of the various needles doesn’t bother me too much, although I can think of better things to do on my day off other than feeling a needle up the side of my nose. Still, I think I’ll stop thinking about the needle part now – just in case!

So, two hours of lying on my back in a rather uncomfortable chair with someone ferreting around in my mouth and holding a conversion that I can only reply with “Mmmph mmmmm swwwmmmmmmph” beckons. I wouldn’t mind so much – but the guy will understand what I’m saying!!

Time to go. Eeep.

Sore Thumb

I’m beginning to standout like a sore thumb at work with the dubious accolade of being the only single bloke in a company of over a hundred employees. This wonderful achievement was realised when the only other single bloke in the company left for pastures new.

Even the office weirdo has a girlfriend (and let’s face facts, every office has a resident weirdo – and in the world of IT you get more than your fair share). He keeps himself to himself, winces when you turn a light on, hardly says a word all week and has the oddest taste in music – when asked what his last CD purchase was he replied “Whale sounds” – and yet he’s in a serious relationship.

Given that I now have this rather sore thumb, I decided to spend an hour or so searching through Match.com looking for another collection of suitable ladies to contact.

However, rather interestingly, I couldn’t help noticing that most women are either teachers or work with children – even my last date worked as a teaching assistant. So why are there so many teachers on Match.com? Is there some sort of stigma attached to their career? Are they too busy to date?

Perhaps I should start hanging about outside the school gates looking for any suitable single ladies? Hmmm, on the other hand, that doesn’t sound like a particularly good idea...

Tag Me!

I haven't done one of these meme thingies before, although I like the name for it. So, in a new and exciting development to this blog, I’ve pinched this one from Chaucer's Bitch.

1. Pick Out A Scar You Have, And Explain How You Got It

I have a scar on my ear that I received from a barbed wire fence when I was a child. I was climbing through said fence when a friend let go and – ping – off came the top part of my ear. One pint of blood less later, a few dozen stitches and it was back on. Impressively, unless you look hard enough, you can’t really see the scar. As such, I don't think this is part of my "nice person" problem.

2. What Is On The Walls In Your Room?

Woodchip wallpaper, a Wallace and Gromit calendar (which I’ve just notice I’ve not turned over from March – is this unlucky?) and some real film cells from three blockbusters in presentation frames. Hopefully, they'll gain in value over the next few years - that and the other 1000 "limited" editions in the issue.

3. What Does Your Phone Look Like?

It’s a Motorola RAZR V3 – I think! Why don’t these darn things actually say what model number they are? It’s also on the blink. I think I’ve dropped it too much.

4. What Music Do You Listen To?

Just about everything – from classical to the latest chart music. However, I draw the line at country and western and rap music.

5. What Is Your Current Desktop Picture?

A picture of Scrat – the perpetual nut chasing squirrel character from the Ice Age computer animated films. If it's not too weird, I'd probably like a picture of my girlfriend (see 6 below as to why it's Scrat).

6. What Do You Want More Than Anything Right Now?

A girlfriend. But since that's currently looking pretty unachieveable at the moment, how about an Aston Martin DB9?

7. Do You Believe In Gay Marriage?

I personally don’t agree with it, but I’ll always respect the decision of any gay couples who choose to do so. In fact, I have a gay work colleague who has done just that and they are very happy.

8. What Time Were You Born?

10.30am – give or take five minutes.

9. Are Your Parents Still Together?

Yes.

10. What Are You Listening To?

Right now? I’m watching/listening to an episode of House M.D season two on DVD. Music wise, I’m listening to Nelly Furtado.

11. Do You Get Scared Of The Dark?

No, although I get more concerned about bumping into something and stubbing my toe.

12. The Last Person To Make You Cry?

I don’t remember a physical person making me cry, but the end of the Shawshank Redemption did make me shed a tear – but that wasn’t really crying.

13. What Is Your Favourite Cologne / Perfume?

I have some Burberry aftershave that is quite nice.

14. What Kind Of Hair/Eye Colour Do You Like On The Opposite Sex?

I’m not bothered – just as long as they’ve got some.

15. Do You Like Pain Killers?

I try to avoid them unless really necessary.

16. Are You Too Shy To Ask Someone Out?

A wee bit, but I’m getting better. I’d much prefer it if they asked me – but that’s kind of unheard of by women!

17. Fave Pizza Topping?

I quite like folded pizza with a bit of everything – but hold the anchovies.

18. If You Could Eat Anything Right Now, What Would It Be?

Actually nothing. I’m not hungry and have no desire to eat anything.

19. Who Was The Last Person You Made Mad?

‘Cos I’m such a nice person - I hope no one. I guess one of my bosses at my last job was a little upset when I handed in my notice though.

20. Is Anyone In Love With You?

Have you read my blog?!

On the Couch

I hardly slept a wink last night and it’s just typical of me. No sooner have I turned out the light, rather than turning my thoughts – or rather having no thoughts - to getting some sleep I end up thinking of something completely different. I guess the regular readers (of which there aren’t many) will have little trouble in guessing what was on my mind.

Now, I wasn’t feeling all morose or bitter about yet another dating failure, but I was searching through every neurone in my brain trying to figure out just why it happened. Again. Why I am just a "nice guy" and simply nothing else?

As with most of my previous meetings, everything seemed to look promising. My profile pictures must have passed some sort of mental filtering, my profile details must have raised some form of interest and our chats on the phone must of provided a further insight into my personality to gauge some form of interest and prompt the meeting. Surely each of my dates can’t have just been after a free lunch or trip to the cinema?

So, how can something so promising disappear down the toilet so quickly? My pictures and profile are the total and absolute truth. I’m only myself and no one else and I’m enough of a gentleman to say please and thank you, hold a door open for a someone and pass genuine complement on a person – so why the rejection? Am I being too nice?

I can only assume that my various profile photographs don't contain sufficient information to pass the thirty-second test. You know, the test that every woman does when first meeting someone. Time temporarily freezes whilst they picture you being the father of their children, what it would be like to kiss you and what you’d look like naked. Fail any of these and you’re pretty much a gonna.

I know that I’m not the most attractive bloke on the block, but I had hoped that I wasn’t the ugliest either. Perhaps I’ve been far too over confident with my looks, even though I’m broad shouldered and fairly muscular with good leg muscles. One person even thought I was a rugby player – albeit a fairly short one. Are my looks really that bad – even once my front tooth is corrected (which I’m finally having done this week). Is 5 foot 7 really too short?

Maybe it’s because I don’t own my own property – even though I own my own car and I’m completely debt free - but how many single people can afford to get on the property ladder in the UK these days? Is renting and/or sharing with friends really such a bad thing? Perhaps it’s more of an issue than I thought, but shouldn’t the person come before materialistic things - plus I’m not the only person on Match.com who is sharing.

So, any tips and ideas on how to help solve my predicament would be much appreciated.

Money, money, money…

A recent survey has revealed that men need to earn about £50,000 a year before women consider them to be wealthy and successful. However, one in ten women have even higher expectations – with a salary requirement in excess of £100,000 before they become impressed.

Men are a little less demanding – regarding a woman earning £42,000 to be wealthy and successful.

Also, forty-five per of women said that a healthy bank balance was their top priority when looking for a partner, whilst a mere twenty-two percent of men said the same thing. Women also expect men to have a large amount of money to fall back on, with expectations of around £24,000 in savings.

Again, the men were slightly less demanding – with their partner only needing to have £15,000 stashed away for a rainy day.

Sunday Telegram

Sometimes modern technology can be a right pain. Sure, there are always the good things – such as advances in medical treatments, faster computing power, more efficient use of the fuels we have around us and, more importantly, better and faster ways to communicate.

However, as ever, these advances can have the opposite effect.

Before the invention of e-mail and the SMS message, people had to either talk on the phone or send a letter. Modern technology has done away with such things and it’s so easy to do things without having to either meet in person or talk on the phone. As such, this morning I was greeted with the following text message on my phone:-

“I want to be honest with you. your (sic) a really genuine and nice guy, but I don’t think there will be any romance between you and me. I really hope you find the right person soon.”

As a result, yet again, I find myself right back at square one with yet another person commenting on how “nice” I am before disappearing off into the wilderness. However, although I’d previously mentioned that she was the woman of my dreams, I’m surprised I’m not more disappointed than I thought I’d be. Perhaps she wasn’t the girl of my dreams after all?

Still, even with a positive attitude to it all, I’d already registered the danger signs and part of me knew that this was to be the expected outcome. My inner voice (or "gut feeling" if you prefer – as “inner voice” sounds too weird!) kept telling me that those signs were there but, because of all that has happened on my previous Match.com exploits, I decided to ignore them and not give up hope. Perhaps the lesson to be learnt this time is that you should always trust your instincts.

Oh well, another telephone number has been deleted from my phone and memory and it's back to the cattle market for me...

Predicting the Weather

There’s a saying around these parts of "Red sky at night, shepherds delight. Red sky morning, sailors warning". And given this, I have the distinct feeling – no scratch that – make it fear, that the morning sky could be about to start looking a little red and stormy.

So why am I predicting clouds again? Perhaps it’s because I’m now so use to the Match.com scenario where you meet up with someone a few times, all appears to be going well and then the sky promptly falls in all around you.

However, in this instance it’s definitely a case of studying the seaweed, prodding the pine cone and considering your gut feelings, because I simply can’t decide which direction the wind is blowing - plus it’s made all the more worse when you think you may have finally found your soul mate.

Although there is a known method to the madness that is the weather forecast, there is still always an element of chance or the unknown. But in my case, I’m trying to avoid noting the usual hurricane signs and hoping for some clear sky ahead on the dating front. Whilst our meetings have, on the whole, been quite good, they haven’t really had time to set the world alight. I had hoped to change that on the next date, but it appears I’ve been blown off this weekend, and the next one too.

Instead, she’s going out with a friend and then her baby sitter isn’t available the week after that (I neglected to tell you that she has a young son – but that certainly isn’t an issue for me). I’ll always respect a persons independence – and responsibilities - and don’t expect them to be round me like a rash (nor me around them), but I can’t make my mind up whether she’s no longer interested or she’s simply seeing her friend because she went out with me the previous weekend.

I keep thinking that because she gave me her home phone number that she’s still interested, but then I think that the interest can wane if someone more interesting (or better looking) comes along. I’m now racking my brains trying to think up of a way of asking whether things are still OK between us without sounding like a prized, or paranoid, idiot and potentially upsetting the apple cart.

Kissing the Void

If you’re a bad kisser – or simply not even getting to kiss - than you can finally rejoice and poke fun at the super smoocher who has women trembling at the knees. However, it doesn’t mean you should be celebrating too much (that is, unless you work for a chocolate manufacturer) as a new survey has revealed that women prefer eating chocolate to kissing.

Along with large amounts of a new 60% cocoa dark chocolate from Cadbury, the survey was conducted by Dr. David Lewis on a number of couples in their 20s.

During the experiment, the willing collection of chocolate consuming lovers had their heart rates and brains monitored whilst they first melted chocolate in their mouths and then proceeded to kiss. I assume they wiped their mouths first!

The various flashing and beeping monitors then revealed that the chocolate caused a more intense and a much longer lasting buzz than kissing, and it even managed to double the volunteers heart rates. In many cases, the chocolate buzz lasted four times longer than the most passionate of kisses and the reaction was the same from both sexes.

With scientists announcing that they’ve created Frankenstein style sperm from human bone marrow, it appears that even our man kissing may need be added to that threatened list. Still, you’ll always remember you’re first kiss, but I bet you don’t remember you first piece of chocolate!

A Cautious Approach

So, over the weekend I went out on another date with my lady friend. It was nothing exciting – only to the cinema – but she seemed to enjoy herself, laughing at the comic goings on screen. We then went to a nearby pub for a drink and a bit of a chat.

However, it was all a little one sided and I found it a bit of a struggle to keep up the conversation. I don’t know whether she’s bored, nervous or simply just quiet, but it was certainly hard work. We were both tired and we eventually went our own ways so I asked whether she’d like to meet again – but next time somewhere more interesting and exciting. Happily, she agreed and before we went our separate ways I gave her a lingering, but simple, kiss on the lips.

It all sounds promising, but as I’ve said before, I’ve had many a false dawn and I just can’t help wondering why she isn’t as chatty as I’d expected her to be. Is her mind elsewhere? Is she nervous? Is she bored with me, or is she simply being herself?

Fingers crossed, she’s simply being herself...

After the Night Comes...

It appears that there’s some renewed interest regarding my dating exploits* so it would be ever so rude of me to keep you in suspense any longer with yet more postings of witty jokes, charming observations and rants about the design of the new twenty pound note. Nope, I’ll save all of those for another time.

So, cutting to the chase, and given my previous experiences, it’s still a little too early to tell - but it never the less looks promising. Still, it’s too soon to get those buntings out ready for a street party.

We met for lunch, she looked and acted like her profile described and her personality, values and mannerisms came across as being very like my own. In fact, she could have been me – albeit with some extra "lady bits". I suspect she was quite nervous, but then again, so was I, but it didn’t take too long for us both to relax – nor did she receive any phone calls "out of the blue" to see whether I was some sort of axe wielding nutter. Mind you, I’d already tried to put her at ease by suggesting that she pick somewhere she felt comfortable meeting in.

As the cold afternoon progressed the sun finally came out and the weather warmed up quite nicely indeed. After lunch I suggested we went elsewhere for some coffee and, half expecting her to decide to call it a day, she agreed. So, off we went for coffee with yet more nattering and, once we’d finished those, I suggested a bit of a walk. Again, much to my surprise, she agreed and we slowly wandered to a local park where we just sat in the sunshine chatting and admiring the view.

Naturally, the afternoon had to end at some point and when she decided she’d better be making tracks she allowed me to walk her to her car and give her a peck on the cheek. Although I already have her mobile number, just as I was about to wander off she again thanked me for the afternoon and offered me her home phone number too.

We’ve sent each other a few text messages over the weekend – only about the weather and seeing what we were up to – but I guess the big test will come this week when I ask whether she’d like to meet up again. I might even try ringing the home number too.

So, stay tuned for more updates as they occur…


* That would be one person then – but thanks for taking an interest!

As Nervous as a Turkey at Christmas

I’ve hardly any finger nails left and I’m sure I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight from the worry. In fact, I’m sure a turkey at Christmas would be much calmer than me at the moment. And the reason behind this? Well, I have a lunch date tomorrow with quite possibly the woman of my dreams. My job interview was a walk in the park compared to my current nerves and the flutters in my stomach.

I’ve had many a false dawn, and I’m not even going to tempt fate and say that I have a good or bad feelings about this, but all I’ll say is that it was completely unexpected. In fact, it goes to prove that you should always expect the unexpected as I very nearly didn’t contact her.

I’d already marked her as a “favourite” on Match.com, but because she was so attractive – with a sparkle in her eye and profile to make the heart flutter, I decided I that didn’t stand a chance. However, this was going against my “if you don’t ask questions, you don’t get answers” ethos, so at the end of last month I decided to drop her a line.

I didn’t hear anything for a few days – in fact I’d given up – when I received a message out of the blue. Before I opened the e-mail I’d already guessed its contents – the usual “thanks, but no thanks”, but far from it.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, for various reasons she gave me her phone number to text her and it was soon a case of “definitely like to meet”, “I can’t wait to meet you” and “when can we meet up?”. So after speaking to her today, I’m now even more nervous – and excited - than ever before. I guess I’m kind of shocked by it all too.

So, all I can do now is go with an open mind and be the only thing I can be – myself. Perhaps, with Easter nearly upon us, miracles really do happen.

Now That’s What I Call Advertising!

It was a day that chocolate lovers the world over will have only ever seen in their wildest dreams. Not even the likes of Homer Simpson will have seen such as site as this – an advertising hoarding that could be eaten.

It may have been a dentists, or one of our NHS health nazis ultimate nightmares but, boy, was Covent Garden the in place to be today. For in an amazing advertising stunt, those clever people at Thorntons built an edible hoarding made from 860lb of pure and unadulterated chocolate. And it was much appreciated by the slobbering shoppers - it was eaten in mere three belly aching hours.

The Easter creation, a world first in the land of chocolate, was made of 10 chocolate bunnies, 72 giant chocolate eggs and 128 chocolate slabs - each weighing a deliciously chunky 2kg. The hoarding took three months to plan (with no doubt a few chocolate "casualties" along the way) along with 300 hours for the team of 10 to build. It was also expected to last a week - so much for that plan eh?

Naturally, it was the children who took advantage of the free feast – although I’m sure some enterprising Londoner will now be selling large chunks of it on Ebay or their marketstall, but I’m certain that there’ll be a few irate mothers complaining that their offspring didn’t touch their dinner!

Let It All Hang Out

A recent survey of 3500 women has found that a third of women think that they are too fat to consider appearing naked in front of their partners. Even one in ten of the women interviewed said that they’d turn the light out before getting undressed in front of their partner.

Also, a quarter of the women said they’d never enter the bathroom with their other half (which, in a way, is a rather good thing considering some of the smells us blokes can make!). Mind you, it just wasn’t an issue undressing in front of their partner that made them get all worked up and worried. A whopping seventy-nine percent of women said that they worried about undressing and showering in front of other women – especially at the gym.

I guess this is kind of worrisome because all of these stick thin size zero models are having an affect on a woman’s self esteem and body image. So, ladies, let me reassure you that men do not – I repeat – do not like these size zero models. In fact, I’ve no idea where they get the idea that we do and if you were to flip through your average lads magazine, such as FHM, you won’t find any stick insects there.

So come on ladies, don’t be shy, your partner loves you for who you are, not what you look like. Mind you, for your own health and safety, I really do suggest you leave us and our paper alone in the bathroom...