The Dating Game

The dating game is exhausting!
I am very new to this world and I am already about to throw in the towel.
Men claim that women are confusing, when they say no, they really mean yes, when they say yes, they mean no. When they say 'I'm fine' it normally means they're not....
I am clearly not a 'normal' woman. No means no to me. Yes means yes. I'm fine, normally means I'm fine. You would know if I was not fine... By my facial expressions, my body language and the sounds that come out of my mouth which would hopefully form the words 'no, I am not fine'.

So, thinking this how most people operate, I enter the dating game.
And it really is a game.
I hate games.
Either you like me or you don't.
If you do, that's great.
If you don't, say so, I will move on.

Date 1: Dr F
Yes, Doctor. Not like a GP type thing, but he had a PhD.
Intelligent men are attractive. Intelligent, funny men, rock my world.
And, if they are as sarcastic as I can be, then you will fit into my life.
So, Dr F had it all. We couldn't meet straight away as I was on holiday for ten days, so we spent two weeks 'getting to know each other'. Which was odd, as we hadn't actually met. It's kinda descended into that 'how was your day?' chat by the end of the first week. You know that sort of comfortable, expected texting or calling everyday stuff. Again, a bit weird, as you get to know someone a lot more intimately than you imagine.
So, first date - expensive bar, expensive restaurant, expensive wine. Great.
It was one of those dates you walk into with only a combination of three words going through your head....
Fuck, shit, fucking fuck fuck, shit, shit, fuck, bollocks.
That's only happens when you 'think' you like someone enough to make you nervous to meet them.
A hello kiss on either cheek and a little hug. All good. Looks like he should do according to the photos. Which is clearly a bonus in this online dating world!
Had already ordered me a champagne cocktail.... That's a definite tick in the box!
We chatted, we smiled.
We went for dinner. It was very posh. And I can do posh. I love a bit of poshness. I like being treated like I'm actually pretty important. Not all the time though. And probably not with someone I am meeting for the first time.
Dr F is clearly accustomed to the finer things in life, is clearly not short of a penny or two, and along with that comes the unmistakable slight arrogance of success. Which can be, and quite often is, also attractive to me.... but it's got to be in combination with some sort of modesty, some sort of vulnerability, at some point.
We ate nice food.... and as we ate the nice food, the amazing pianist played. She was amazing. But I have never seen such a miserable person playing such beautiful music.
At the end of the meal, the strange waiter presented us with chocolate truffles on a very small little white dish. They looked lovely, but I didn't partake.
The waiter tried to convince me, rather too aggressively to be honest.
He walked by again, and flicked, yes, flicked, with his finger, the truffle across the white table cloth, towards me, leaving a trail of coca powder. And walked away!
What the fuck?! Who does that?! And this is a pretty posh restaurant remember!
He then walked back, picked it up from the table and ate it himself!
Seriously... Who the fucking hell does that?!
Dr F paid... I offered. He refused. I like that. I know not all women are ok with that. But I am. For a first date anyway.

We went for a wander, a chat, and then back to the train station.
A kiss on either cheek, a hug and a goodbye.

I was left confused. Maybe because I was expecting more. Not more as in 'let's get a hotel room and fuck'.... But more as in, more personality, more warmth, more like this guy you apparently were for the last two weeks. The guy you were in the texts and the long phone calls. That guy!

In short, we went in a second date.... Day time date. It was one of those, I'm just double checking that I don't actually want to see you again dates. But don't spend 20 minutes on the phone to your ex wife talking about the kids! And don't then continue to talk about her after.....
Shame.
And.... don't be a douche about it after. Say thank you (I paid this time) but no thank you.
Don't do that disappearing act that  men are so well known for....
Nine times out of ten, us women also have the same feelings about it all.

Lessons learned so far:
1. Don't believe all the chat before hand.
2. Don't continue to date him if he is in contact with the ex, ON THE DATE!
3. Don't think he will say thank you.
4. Expect the disappearing act

On to the next one........

The Wall

There is a brick wall....
It has increased in size over the years. I tend to re-arrange it every so often.
Sometimes the wall is really high, but narrow. Some people have noticed that they can peer around the sides of it, see what is happening, say hello, stretch out a hand.
Sometimes the wall is low, but wide. Some people have figured out that they can look over it, wave, give advice, smile.

Sometimes the wall is wide and high, but has small gaps and spaces in it. Some people have managed to sit close to the gaps, talk, hold my hand, be there. Some people have attempted to put more than a hand through the wall.

Sometimes the gaps are big enough for people to see right through, not enter, but see.

Sometimes I give a brick to someone. I give a brick to someone when I know they will look after it, treasure it, keep it close. That they will never throw it away, that it means as much to them as it does to me.
That's pretty rare.

Sometimes I really want to give the bricks to someone. But I am unsure about how they will be treated. If the bricks are lost, broken or damaged, then how can I go about finding them again, to repair them and put them back.

I want to give someone all the bricks that make my wall.... I want to know every single brick is as precious to them as it is to me.

I want to give someone my bricks one by one, until eventually they have them all, and there is no wall left.

I don't want them to build their own wall with the bricks. I don't want to have to build a wall again either.

I want the bricks to make a path instead. A joint one. Leading in the same direction, being shared.

I don't want to know where the path is going, but that it's wide enough for both of us. That it is long, that it is filled with happiness, joy and understanding.
That it won't be destroyed. That a wall cannot be built from it again.

I don't think I am asking too much. I believe it will happen. One day.

Four years

That's how long it's been!
Four years!!