Okay folks, time for an update on AF. I must confess, I’ve been horrendously absent from the blogosphere, as it turns out dating someone while working a gazillion hours a week is quite challenging and doesn’t exactly lend itself to excessive blogging. The other little niggly thing is that I’ve found myself somewhat reluctant to tell all to the world, what with the whole ‘honesty and communication is key to a healthy relationship’ lark.
Well, as you can probably tell from the fact that I’m here, it’s all beginning to go a little bit tits up. As bloody usual.
Last you heard, AF was on his way to meet me in central for a midweek rendevouz, after very nearly cancelling on me and turning me into a crazy person*. He showed up and declared he would take me for port and cheese at Gordons (for all you non-Londoners, Gordons is a wine bar on the Embankment, which is pretty darn fine. I’ve never had port there before though, possibly because I don’t have a free bus pass)
After that, we went home and had a pleasant evening. We had some pleasant sex, followed by some pleasant morning pillow talk, and some pleasant texts throughout the day.
On Friday, we had a date. Three days before, he called all sheepish, and admitted that he’d been asked to guest at some super cool jazz gig, and would I hate him if he played at it. It would only be a couple of songs, he said, and we’d drink wine the rest of the time. He also mentioned that he had a free house for the weekend, which apparently translated to lots of wild sex on many surfaces.
Wine and jazz and wild sex? That almost sounds like a real date, good lord.
So I went to Brighton, and I watched some jazz, and I drank a lot of wine, and I had some awkward half conversations about a genre of music I really don’t care for, with people AF clearly knew but didn’t remember to introduce me to, and then went home to his for pizza.
Then he got a bit sleepy on the sofa and suggested snuggling in bed.
SNUGGLING? My god man. Where are your balls?
So ‘wild sex on many surfaces’ became me jumping him and having a lovely time of it getting myself off. And the next morning, despite the fact that I had to leave at 11 in order to make it to Twinkle’s birthday bash, he still thought it a good idea to snuggle his way through an epic lie in. In the end, I just took my clothes off and waited patiently for him to notice. He did, and there followed some pleasant sex, which did contain at least one orgasm, but other than getting rid of my early morning horn, did not exactly rock my world.
Yes, I’ve been overthinking things and am therefore prone to overanalysing, but I gotta say I really don’t think it’s a good thing if you’re just a couple of months in to the dating process and you favour ‘snuggling’ over wild sex. It just doesn’t make sense to me, especially as I know damn well I am awesome in bed.
AF is being great. He’s making an effort, and saying all the right things, and paying for dinner and wine, but while I’m not exactly into PDA’s I’ve got to get something outside of the bedroom or I will go completely and utterly bonkers. I need to be sitting at that jazz gig with a hand under the table, creeping up my thigh with the promise of what’s to come later. I need a lingering kiss before he gets up to go to the bar. I need SOMETHING.
But I don’t think AF has it.
Which, considering how much hassle I’ve had and comfort food I’ve eaten during the course of this courtship, is a fucking travesty.
The girls got it right on Saturday at Twink’d bday bonanza when they said; ‘you just don’t seem all that fussed Ritzi,’ and it’s true. After all that fuss, I’m not all that fussed. I thought he’d pull it out the bag and man up, but he hasn’t.
So I’m just going to be a cold hearted bitch here and say… it’s not enough for me.
Now I just have to figure out how to tell him.
*read: more of a crazy person.