Most girls exploring the realms of singledom, except possibly Samantha’s character in Sex and the City, have at some point experienced a drought. As you’re probably aware, I’m not referring to a lack of rain – but a different natural phenomenon.
During these tough times, friends will comfort you with sayings such as: ‘buses are like men, they all come at once, or not at all.’ In my particular situation, it’s not that buses haven’t gone past; in fact, there’s been a few I’ve flirted with the idea of getting onboard (excuse the pun). However, they just haven’t been the right ones, or have been going in my fussy direction. Despite my increasing…erm, frustration, it seems I’m not just looking for anyone these days, but for a particular type of someone. Let me explain the ‘buses’ of late.
Bus number 1 – the Parisian Express
Upon being introduced by mutual friend at a party, Mr Paris was sweet, funny and shared my love of Prosecco and dancing to cheesy ballads. He got my number and promptly organised a date, however despite his sweet Parisian ways there was just no attraction on my behalf. Not wanting to judge a book by its cover, I waited until the goodbye kiss to cast my final vote. The verdict was not good. The only way I can describe the sensation that followed is by likening it to kissing a lizard. ‘What happened to the French kiss?’ squealed my mind as his tongue rapidly poked in and out of my mouth.
Instead of my foot curling up and getting lost in the euphoria of the first kiss, it headed straight for the front door and up the stairs. Needless to say, I let the Parisian Express go by.
Bus number 2 – the Out of Service bus
I met my next ‘bus’ through my flatmate and was attracted to his no bullshit personality and hysterical sense of humour. A few months, emails and one rather embarrassing case of mistaken identity later, Mr Out- of- Service and I met for drinks. As far as first dates go, the night was a success; he had me alternating between fits of laughter and the kind of intimate conversations you usually reserve for your nearest and dearest. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait for the next date.
However, there was a slight problem. He had recently broken up with a long-term girlfriend – and despite the troublesome death that relationship endured – Mr Out-of-Service was leaning towards rekindling things with the waiting ex.
The night ended on a gin and tonic induced high, and with us kissing in a garden in a central London square. But alas, an email explaining he didn’t want to mess me around soon followed. So there goes the out of service bus – and just like an actual out of service bus, despite alarm bells ringing in your head and the knowledge it’s on the road to nowhere, you still hold a little glimmer of hope it will stop and pick you up.
Bus number 3 – the Broken Down Bus (the ex)
We all know this is never the right bus to get on. But at some stage (usually after a few cocktails) we’ve all done it. Having gone down this rocky and regretful road with an ex gone by, I have refrained from doing it with an ever-so- sweet, muscley boy I was seeing for a few months late last year.
Mr Sweet-Bulging-Biceps, was without a doubt, the best when it comes to anything in the bedroom. And I’m not just talking about his toe-tingling talents.
This boy would cuddle all night, stay up chatting with me if I couldn’t sleep (despite it being a school night) and routinely would give me an hour-long massage in the morning (although he works for a top business consultancy firm, he actually wants to become a masseuse).
Perfect you say? Oh yes, how I wished that things had worked out. But before you tut and scream ‘WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!!’ there was a heartbreaking flaw, despite the unbelievable connection in the bedroom, it didn’t stretch beyond this. With him being a few years younger, and us having very different interests and senses of humour, which incidentally is more of an aphrodisiac for me than a bottle of Moet on a yacht, I sadly didn’t see a future (beyond the bedroom that is).
Months went by, and the more he stared longingly into my eyes, the more ashamed I felt for not being able to do the same. Each week, my friends would stare at me disapprovingly, knowing that heartbreak was imminent.. it being his and not mine.
Eventually, I worked up the courage and broke the news. It didn’t go so well…leaving me feeling absolutely terrible for letting it go on for so long. Therefore, despite the temptation – my guilt over hurting him has prevented any selfish late night dialling.
So, let’s just hope the bus rule does indeed apply to men, and I’m soon able to dangle more than just a heel off the next bus that goes by.