Dating or not dating.

[NikF]

Even now if I had to choose of all the women I've known, the one I was most sure that was not only interested in me but that I would quickly bed, it would be her. I knew she wanted me. I could even feel it. But she had said no. A firm and clear rejection.

It's unsolicited advice time. Yay! Here's what you don't do when she has shot you down -
You don't say "Really? I thought we had so much in common" or "But you always said you wish you could find a good guy like me!" and definitely don't say "If you ever change your mind, let me know?" - really, don't say that.
Here's what you do say -
"Okay". That's it. No sigh, no pouting, no slumped shoulders or anything like that. Just "Okay". And then act as if nothing happened. Yes, it's possible to do that. And that's what I did when I knew she wanted me but she said "No". I said "Okay", smiled, thanked her again for the test and then I left the pharmacy. And no, no looking back.

I went out the door and turned left and had walked a few paces when I realised that I was so shocked by her answer that I'd gone the wrong way. I turned, retraced my steps and found myself level with the pharmacy. Should I look through the window before I pass? Yes, I should, because she has a right to reject me - even though I knew she wanted me, dammit! - and I am not a self-entitled child who takes the huff when I don't get what I want. And so I looked through the window and she was at the counter and just as I was about to pass by she waved, she waved me in and see? I told you she wanted me.

Through the door again with a mantra running through my head that's 'Don't look smug', because even now it's still possible to mess it up. Okay, here's what you say when she has agreed to a date: nothing. You say nothing.
I said nothing, I didn't look smug, I just stood there and didn't mess it up. She stood there too, eyes looking at me over her glasses, firm, steady, intense. A few moments more, then with one hand she took a pen from her labcoat while the other took a business card from a pile by the cash register. She turned the card over and started to write on the reverse, mumbling to herself with a little laugh "...can't believe I'm doing this..."

She extended the card to me. I could see it had her name and number written on it. I reached out to take it and just as it was almost in my grasp she quickly pulled it back. Then she extended it again, slowly and turning it about 90 degrees, she used it almost as a pointer to punctuate the first few words of what she said next -

"You are far, far too confident. And I'm not sure how I feel about that".

I took the card and said thanks. She was still staring up at me. I said nothing else, not even to confirm I'd call. And I didn't say goodbye. I left the pharmacy and didn't look back or through the window. Two days later we went out to dinner and afterwards on the way home had sex in her car.

[Mirror Image]

Nik, you should write a book. You really should. The title of the book should be Women: What Not To Say.

[NikF]

Nik, you should write a book. You really should. The title of the book should be Women: What Not To Say.

For the past five or six years I haven't even cared about having a proper website for my photography work, and so the chance of me ever writing down and documenting my adventures with women is next to nothing.   But I enjoy looking through my diaries and journals once in a while and remembering stuff.

[NikF]

I'll add: I used the pharmacist's phone number only to arrange the time and place for the date. No conversations, nothing else. I told her to meet me at a specific time in a restaurant I knew called 'The Chaps'. I got there right on time. I was seated and waited for her. 15 minutes passed and I was still there alone. Then I received an SMS from her asking where I was. I told her I was at the table. She called me and said she couldn't see me. After a few minutes more the discovery was made that I was in a restaurant named 'The Chaps'. But she was in a bar/restaurant in the other side of town named 'Chaps' - which at that time was known as one of the wildest gay bars in town. And so she had been sitting there and wondering "Why did he ask to meet me in a gay bar?"

[Mirror Image]

I'll add: I used the pharmacist's phone number only to arrange the time and place for the date. No conversations, nothing else. I told her to meet me at a specific time in a restaurant I knew called 'The Chaps'. I got there right on time. I was seated and waited for her. 15 minutes passed and I was still there alone. Then I received an SMS from her asking where I was. I told her I was at the table. She called me and said she couldn't see me. After a few minutes more the discovery was made that I was in a restaurant named 'The Chaps'. But she was in a bar/restaurant in the other side of town named 'Chaps' - which at that time was known as one of the wildest gay bars in town. And so she had been sitting there and wondering "Why did he ask to meet me in a gay bar?"

[NikF]

The All Gain, All Pain Dating Method! 100% Guaranteed to Work!

Fred Ferguson was my friend who in the afternoons played piano below the exposed beams of a low-ceilinged lounge bar under a charming restaurant. He was such a good guy the worst thing I could say about him was that he chose the stage name of Freddie 'Fingers' Ferguson. This was back when I was about 27 or 28 and still reasonably charming and used to head downstairs to hear him and have myself an easy flirt with the waitresses. Fred always played my request, for Hoagy Carmichael's 'Stardust'.

One afternoon I arrived early but was let in because my face was well known. Down to the lounge consisting of low tables surrounded by low stools that were currently unoccupied. Ah, apart from one table, one which had a short, slight figure standing on it. Working our way up; a vision in heels, stockings, just above the knee black skirt, white satin shirt and long, straight, raven black hair, so black that if you put a rimlight on it to separate it from the background it would suck that light up like a black hole. Note: I don't know if that's how black holes really work.
She turned to see who I was, made eye contact for an instant and then the fatal mistake of shifting her gaze slightly to over my shoulder and pretending she was looking at... nothing - and that told me she could be/probably would be interested. But it also showed...wait for it...her hair pushed back by a blue Alice band. Oh my, what a frame. She returned to what she had been doing, which was pinning flyers or small posters on the lowest beams. I moved away, but, this isn't over between us, you understand?

Fred was assembling a mic stand while watching me approach. He started slowly shaking his head from side to side while silently mouthing the word "No". No to...what? To the cutie pie. She's out of bounds. And she's 18 years old, back home on a break from University and earning some cash working as a waitress in her father's lounge bar restaurant. And speaking of her father, Fred added that the chap was a known loonball who if he ever caught his darling little daughter with someone would violently dismember the cad and then fire the bloody pieces into the heart of the sun. Okay, I got that. But look at her. What's her name?

He went to make a call. I went in the direction of the nubile. I leaned against the wall and watched her. She knew it and finished pinning a poster then turned to step off the table and on to a stool. But it was time for amateur dramatics and she was the world's worst actress. One foot tentatively reaching to the stool but then pulled back, then a small *sigh*, then trying it with the other foot and a louder *SIGH* so that I would hear her cue. I walked over and reached out to take her hand. Notice how I didn't say "Can I help?" or "Here, take my hand". I just took her hand and she held it tight. Then she ditched the flyers and reached for my other hand. I helped her down on to the stool, then on to the floor. She gasped and feigned being slightly exasperated, while explaining that her heels were slipping on some of the tabletops and so she couldn't step down from them safely, all said with an innocent face designed to feel sorry for.

We walked over to another table that was under a beam, chatting while I helped her up on to a table this time. Her hand was small and her slim wrist almost lost in the two times turned up sleeve of her shirt. It  all added to the helpless waif look. And when she let go of my hand it included slightly trailing her delicate fingers away over my palm. I see.

This pattern continued and we chatted about stuff, table to table, beam to beam until the last one, where after pinning a final flyer she was all giggles and eyelashes and nubile and announced 'Here, watch me be brave and jump from the table on to the floor...oh I did it and nearly lost my balance but you caught me!' Yeah, nice aim, straight into my arms. I gave her my number. She told me she'd call. I believed her.

(Part two to follow)

[NikF]

She called the studio phone on Friday night and told me she'd arrive in Saturday, noon at the latest. She appeared about 18:00.
Up the stairs, chatting, laughing, denim mini and jacket, cap-sleeved T-shirt, no Alice band this time but it's not the end of the world. A studio tour? Sure. Here's the office. Here's the main room. Mostly people, fashion, a little glamour and stuff. Okay, but don't look directly into the flash. Ready? Yeah, umbrellas without handles. Here's the smaller room. Well, when it's a photo of something like minestrone soup we put glass marbles in the bottom of the bowl so that the pasta and vegetables are raised and appear visible near the surface. Good question - by blowing cigarette smoke through a drinking straw aimed at the bowl. Yeah, my boss always has whisky. 

We took glasses and the bottle into what was my bedroom. It still had 8x10 prints pinned here and there, almost all of models I'd worked with. She looked at them and momentarily went all quiet. Then she spotted my bed, a small and narrow bunk, kind of like found in a barracks. Laying back on it she pronounced it too small for one nevermind two and prompted me over to prove her point. Turns out she was one of those wild, almost freaky girls, but I wasn't really surprised. At some point we stopped and the next thing I remember was her waking me early in the am saying she was leaving to go home and get changed for work, but would return at 18:00 that evening when we'd go out for a drink and then back to the bunk to f--k. She arrived near midnight, still in her waitress uniform, carrying an optics bottle (upside down label) of whisky. A drink and then bunk time. Again, she left early in the am, saying she'd return and take me out to lunch. I never saw her ever again.

(Final part to follow)

[NikF]

A few days later I was out buying lunch, carrying it back to the studio in a brown bag. I stopped before crossing the road because some dude was over the way and staring at me. You know how nightclub doormen are usually big guys who rely mostly on their bulk in order to intimidate? Wimps. But this guy was the real thing. My colourful upbringing allowed me to quickly identify him as a hardman, a heavy. I was in real trouble. We made eye contact. I turned and walked away. We kept eye contact as he followed from across the road. The traffic stopped at the red light. I turned again and walked, he did the same until the light changed and just as the traffic started to move I bolted across the road between the cars and aimed for the alley behind the studio. There is a fire escape there and I will reach it, jump and pull myself up, climb through the back window, run into my bedroom and hide under my bed. I reached the alley and sprinted down it and could barely breathe and I'm on my back and a second heavy dude is approaching and slowly - but probably as hard as he can - swinging his boot back and then forward, straight into my balls.

I don't care that I'm still too winded to scream. I'll just lay here. The sky can fall, the ground can open up below me, it's okay. I don't even mind that I can hardly move to curl up and protect myself while the two heavies kick the sh*t out of me.

A door in the alley opened. A Chinese waiter stepped out to light a cigarette but stopped when he saw the beating. A shout, then he was joined by colleagues. They approached. The heavies gave me a couple more kicks, then stopped and walked away. The Chinese restaurant staff helped me to my feet and half carried me into their kitchen. A seat and a glass of water. Then carried again to the old cage elevator and into the studio. Thanks.

The next morning. I'm aching. And bruised. All over. I look in my shaving mirror. It's my own fault. I was warned. Yeah, she was wild bizarro great in bed but I paid the price. And I'm lucky the Chinese dude saw it because the heavies were probably just getting warmed up. I've learned my lesson.
The end of the week. I'm okay. I survived. And if she calls I'll just arrange to meet her in a hotel outside town, we'll arrive and depart separately and no one will ever find out. And I'm an idiot.

[Sergeant Rock]

Fred Ferguson was my friend who in the afternoons played piano below the exposed beams of a low-ceilinged lounge bar under a charming restaurant. He was such a good guy the worst thing I could say about him was that he chose the stage name of Freddie 'Fingers' Ferguson. This was back when I was about 27 or 28 and still reasonably charming and used to head downstairs to hear him and have myself an easy flirt with the waitresses. Fred always played my request, for Hoagy Carmichael's 'Stardust'....

Is this the beginning of your "noir" novel, or an actual "date" you were on? In any case, very well written, and a fascinating read. And it's proof that men have d-ck for brains  ...god help us all.

Sarge

[NikF]

Is this the beginning of your "noir" novel, or an actual "date" you were on? In any case, very well written, and a fascinating read. And it's proof that men have d-ck for brains  ...god help us all.

Sarge

Like everything I post in this thread, it's real. I understand if there are opinions about it ranging from 'take it with a pinch of salt' right up to 'Lies!'. But it's all true. If anything I've toned it down to make it SFW. And I suppose I've even understated it a little as a whole.
But thanks. Ah, and another truth is that I sometimes still have d-ck for brains.

[Sergeant Rock]

Like everything I post in this thread, it's real.

I never doubted that. My remark was an oblique way of praising your writing style.

Sarge

[NikF]

I never doubted that. My remark was an oblique way of praising your writing style.

Sarge

Ah, right. Sorry Sarge. You have my apologies.

[Sergeant Rock]

Ah, right. Sorry Sarge. You have my apologies.

No need to apologize. I see where I could easily be misunderstood. And to explain the quotes around the word date in my post: in the context of this thread, your encounter with the woman was more booty call than "date"...not that there's anything wrong with that 

Sarge

[NikF]

No need to apologize. I see where I could easily be misunderstood. And to explain the quotes around the word date in my post: in the context of this thread, your encounter with the woman was more booty call than "date"...not that there's anything wrong with that 

Sarge

I don't know about that Sarge, I was there at the time and I assure you I offered her my number based on the assumption it would lead to a date. I can say with all sincerity that my heart was in the right place. And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

[NikF]

The pharmacist I told the story about? ("You are far, far too confident - and I'm not sure how I feel about that") I've just looked her up. That's only the (I think) third time I've ever tried to find someone online I used to date or have a relationship with. Anyway, she's single. And I'm going to get in touch with her and I've already decided to take her out. Well, you know what I mean - to ask her out. I'll post any update.
What could possibly go wrong? 

[ComposerOfAvantGarde]

The pharmacist I told the story about? ("You are far, far too confident - and I'm not sure how I feel about that") I've just looked her up. That's only the (I think) third time I've ever tried to find someone online I used to date or have a relationship with. Anyway, she's single. And I'm going to get in touch with her and I've already decided to take her out. Well, you know what I mean - to ask her out. I'll post any update.
What could possibly go wrong? 

What could go wrong? She might want to go back to the gay bar and take you with her....

[NikF]

What could go wrong? She might want to go back to the gay bar and take you with her....

And what would be wrong with that, oor jessop?

Which reminds me, if there are any gay brethren who wish to post of their dating successes or woes, go right ahead. This thread is a broad church.

[NikF]

It continues ... Just returned from a concert where throughout I could feel the eyes of dancer looking at me from the her seat. But I still believe she'll eventually get tired of it and cease the glares. Either that or based on previous experience I'll be confronted and pronounced some kind of rake and she'll leave in a huff - possibly combined with her throwing a left hook and then exiting with a grand jeté?
It's so childish, really. 

[Sergeant Rock]

possibly combined with her throwing a left hook and then exiting with a grand jeté?

...given your boxing experience, try to do no more than block it. Don't launch a retaliatory strike, whether violent or balletic 


Sarge

[Sergeant Rock]

And what would be wrong with that, oor jessop?

A dearth of women? But since you'd be with a woman, I guess the type of bar wouldn't matter.

Sarge