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Princess Ruby on: Could your next date be sitting next to you?

10 Jun

Definition:

‘A meet-cute is a situation in which a future romantic couple meets for the first time in a way that is considered adorable, entertaining, or amusing. It can also be applied to two people destined to become buddies’.

Meet-cutes are, without a doubt, probably the best thing about being single. Those little surprise encounters where you bump into someone (sometimes quite literally) who momentarily stops you in your tracks and makes your heart do a little flip. They often happen when you least expect them, or as I’ve recently discovered – while waiting for a bus or a plane!

I guess this is what makes them so cute; because they’re completely organic and even the most unromantic can’t help but think that maybe fate is playing its part. And so my story begins…

Meet-cute #1

One evening, my friend was sitting at a bus stop shivering, staring out at the road optimistically willing a red double-decker bus to turn the corner, rescue her from near hyperthermia and take her home – when a guy also sharing the same fate asked her for a lighter. Not a smoker herself, she was unable to help, however this prompted a conversation which lead to him suggesting they give up on the bus and go for a drink together instead.

They dated for a while, and would often laugh about their cute encounter, however unfortunately cigarettes weren’t his only vice – he also had a taste for snorting a certain Class A drug to help him deal with his high pressure city trading job.

When his nasty little friend started making an appearance before, during and after their dates, my friend conceited defeat and realised that perhaps fate hadn’t bought her prince. But nonetheless, her little ‘meet-cute’ does make her smile from time to time when she’s shivering waiting for the bus.

Meet-cute #2

On route to India a few months ago, I was browsing an uninspiring sandwich counter at Heathrow Airport when I looked up to catch the eyes and the very inviting smile of my next beau. After buying my sandwich I hesitantly walked out the store while flashing my best flirty smile back (one I have done my best to perfect over the years!).

As I waited outside the store for a friend, I froze when I noticed Sandwich Boy was coming over.  He introduced himself and gave me his business card, asking me to get in touch upon my return.

I took him up on this offer and we ended up going on one those amazing first dates where you instantly click, laugh (and well, eventually kiss) for hours!

However, alas, the second date was not such a success. Unsure whether the wine from the previous date had clouded my judgement, he started the date off by making jokes about a slightly overweight girl in the pub, then went on to brag about how much money he made (yawn) right before promptly pointing out that it was my turn to buy the next round, despite only being half way through my drink.  The date rapidly went down from there spelling the end of our ‘meet-cute’!

Meet cute #3

Around the same time, another friend had a transport ‘meet-cute’, however this time while boarding a flight to Australia. He spotted the lovely lass as they were boarding the plane, and to his luck, she sat in the same row as him. Unfortunately, he fell asleep, and when he woke he noticed he had not only missed dinner, but the girl too – as she had moved to the row behind him.

Hungry and disappointed, he looked around to notice her moving back to his row and told him that she had left a chocolate for him in the pouch of his seat as he had missed dinner! The chocolate was not the only thing that melted… he was smitten (after all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach). They have since gone on a few dates, however as she’s an air hostess from Portugal… it has made dating a little difficult.

Although, just goes to show… you never know who you might meet on your next journey!

Princess Ruby on: when the thrill of the chase brings no thrills

16 Mar

To continue on from my last blog, it seems Mr Do You Have Nice Feet was playing a game of phone roulette – although neither of us hit the jackpot! He text the day before the date to say he forgot his sister was coming to stay so asked if he could rearrange for the following week.

The next week came, and my phone was silent as a mouse. No beeps, squeaks or tweets. But in these fickle circumstances, easy come, easy go; best dust off those stilettos (without the threat of any feet perverts) and shrug it off.

However what did intrigue me about Mr Do You Have Nice Feet was that he had asked me repeatedly over the course of our texting marathon to go out with him until I said yes. I couldn’t help but wonder…. why go to such effort???

I started to think of dates-gone-by, and a stream of outlandish broken promises that would make Pinocchio blush came flooding back. Everything from romantic holidays to running away together!

When you’ve only had a few dates, it’s safe to assume these sweeping comments are just displays of affection, rather than actual promises. But when they come from someone you’re dating, it’s only natural to get a little swept up in these fantasies and the potential fairytale, as I found out last year.

So it begs the question, is it an ego thing, or do some people really like the thrill of the chase?

Ego or chase – part 1

Early last year, I met up with an ex for dinner. My stomach was in complete knots – possibly serving as a warning that danger was imminent. Despite him breaking my heart, it’s true what they say about bad boys… they’re really hard to get over!

From the moment we met, I exerted a cool ‘I’m so over you demeanour’… however rather unexpectedly, he began reminiscing about our past and confessed that he never got over me. I initially dismissed his affections and continued with my nonchalant attitude.

Although by the time our mains arrived, resistance was futile – he asked the waiter to move the table so he could be ‘closer to me’, and then suggested that we move away together where nothing could get in the way of us and I could have his children. I nearly choked on my dinner.

Tales of the Urban Princesses

So when we met up the following day, and I suggested dating before running off into his fantasy sunset and bearing his children, the confusion really kicked in. He began to physically squirm at the thought of having to commit, and then voiced his concern about me not wanting to play games. Clearly something he was unable to do…

I’m happy to report this episode permanently cured me of my infatuation.

Ego or chase – part 2

Later in the year, I began seeing a seemingly lovely guy who had accepted a job in Australia before we started dating.

As a constant joker, it was hard to know when he was being serious, but every time we met, he joked about me moving to Australia with him, or kidnapping me. This went on for a few months…and occasionally via email after he left.

However when I visited my family in Australia a few months later and asked to meet up, he panicked.

Initially he said he had some ‘special plans for me’, however a few weeks before my arrival, he cut communication completely. When we finally met up it felt like enduring a gruelling boot camp in a thunderous storm would have been preferable over sitting by the Sydney Opera House on that balmy night with me!

Clearly terrified I may have taken him up on his offer, he was awkward and defensive and seemed more interested in sending pictures of the Harbour Bridge to his mother in England than engaging in any form of meaningful conversation. Oh the disappointment.

Months on….and this date still makes me shudder (and not in a good way!)… !

So what do you take from such experiences (besides your slightly battered pride)? Is it really about the thrill of the chase and unwavering egos for some people? Or have I made some particularly poor romantic choices? I think in the above instances, it is a little of both!

However with all being fair in love and war, best to put my armour back on and keep heading for victory.

Princess Ruby on phone roulette and a fascination for feet

4 Mar

It is safe to say that my love life has hit a bit of a quiet patch of late. I haven’t gone out much, dated, exchanged texts …or anything else for that matter, since the other side of Christmas. And for a change, I’m not bothered by this somewhat forced solitude (well, almost!).

So this got me thinking….where do you meet someone if you’re not out in pubs and bars these days? Of course there’s internet dating, meeting people through friends and the slightly more risky avenue of hooking up with someone from work (…please proceed with caution!)

These are all good ways of finding love… (or lust); however I’m starting to think that chance encounters need to make a comeback. Situations which are not contrived, involve a few cocktails or you paying a monthly subscription. Just plain old fashioned flirting with strangers.

I can vouch for the fact that a little cheeky smile from a suited and booted man during the peak-hour rush can really brighten up your morning. It’s these unexpected encounters that give you an extra spring in your step.

So as I was writing this blog late on a Sunday night, feeling content with letting fate take its course, it came as quite a surprise that I got a text from an unknown number asking me who I was, quoting a badly misspelt version of my name.

Curious, I responded back asking who they were. And so the conversation began. It turns out he found my name and number scribbled on the back of a business card but couldn’t remember who I was….and the fact that I couldn’t remember giving my number out (or that he had never called!) was a clear indication that we had both been steaming drunk when we met…or that this was indeed a very old business card.

After establishing we both couldn’t recall the details of our initial meeting, our random conversation unfolded over the next few hours…

Tom: You must have been pretty for me to ask for your number. Haha. I’d love to put a name to the face.

Me: Well, maybe you should have called the first time!

Tom: Haha, fair play. Am I too late? Fancy a blind date?

Me: It seems we may have been a little tipsy during our first encounter….maybe you could remind me a little about yourself??

Tom: Hi, my name is Tom. But my friends call me Curlytom or crazy. I’m 28, from Essex, but I live in South London. Love it. I work for a start-up in Waterloo heading up the online marketing dept. My favourite food is chicken kung-po and rum makes me sick. That’s me. Your turn.

Me: Nice to meet you Tom. I’m 30, live in West London and I also work in marketing and do a bit of writing in my spare time. My favourite food is Italian and white wine makes me sick.

Tom: Pleasure to meet you. ’Do you have nice feet?’

My smile fades.

Me: Nice feet?? Umm, are you joking or do you have a thing for feet??

Tom: You could call it a kinky obsession but I believe if a girl looks after her feet, you can guarantee she looks after everything else. Have I freaked you out? Haha

Hmmm….

Princess Ruby on phone roulette and a fascination for feet

Was this what he had in mind?

And so our texts continued. Aside from the feet comment, he appeared to be very funny, so we made plans to meet for a drink later in the week.

However as the date nears…reservations have set in. Was he trying to be funny or was he really harbouring some kinky foot fetish?? I really hope it’s the former. And is this how he usually meets girls…. playing phone roulette…. chasing up girls he never called late on a Sunday night to get his rocks (or feet??) off?

So while this was somewhat an ‘unexpected encounter’ I’m pretty sure this isn’t how Cinderella got her glass slipper (unless Prince Charming had an ulterior foot motive?) – or how I’ll get mine. To be continued…

Princess Ruby on counting calories – sex vs dance

15 Jan

I have welcomed the New Year with a rather monumental list of resolutions. I’m certainly a woman, or Princess as it may be, on a mission for bigger and better things. Gone are the days sitting around in a castle waiting for your fairytale to happen will do. You have to get out there…. glass slippers blazing and make it happen!

With an ambitious year ahead of me… I started out with one of the least extreme items on my ‘to-do’ list; learn to dance.  In hindsight, opting for a fast-paced street dance class may not have been the best place to make my debut – with the class resembling something out of Flash Dance; my two left feet began to sweat before we even started the warm up.

Trying to keep up with the class as they gyrated, jumped and spun was much more of a sweaty challenge than Beyonce makes it out to be. However two classes down…and I’m hooked! It also turns out to be a great way to release some semi-sexual energy, albeit in a slightly clumsy manner. And with little happening on the Prince Charming front, it got me thinking… which is a better workout? Dancing or sex?

Princess Ruby on sex vs dance

My research produced interesting results. According to one website (one which I suspect is yet to yield a scientific stamp of approval) you only burn 25 calories during the act if the woman is on top, add an extra 7 calories for bouncing, 22 for urgent begging, 33 calories for trying to keep your eyes open, and 27 for orgasm! Giving you a grand total of 114. However for someone my weight, an hour of fast dancing would have burnt 272 calories. Dancing wins!

Although according to the same questionable website, I could have upped the ante and produced better results if I were caught misbehaving with someone other than my partner – apparently trying to explain would have given me 165 calories, getting dressed in one large motion 300, jumping out of the window 15 (add an extra 5 if the window wasn’t open).

So if I were prepared to get myself in this messy situation, jump out of bed and into a closed window, sex would win hands down.

Therefore the results are open to debate, and of course a combination of both activities, with the dancing being the back-up, would be ideal. However in the meantime, I shall continue with my resolutions, which now may include testing out some of the above….perhaps minus the cheating.

Princess Ruby on: are you dating for love or for sex?

4 Nov

The dating business is huge – you can’t escape a tube carriage without an advertisement for online dating beaming down at you. However I’m starting to notice that for as many services there are devoted to finding ‘true love’, there’s an equal number of services looking to help you get your groove on….no matter how that might be. Here’s a few I’ve stumbled across this week…..

Are you dating for love or for sex?

Shag lotto anyone?

While scanning one of the many London lifestyle newsletters which bombard my inbox, I noticed a singles dating night with a twist – anyone for a game of shag roulette? For £1 (after all, these are frugal times), you can enter the ‘shag lottery’ where and you and one lucky punter are paired-up and sent off in a pre-paid cab at the end of the night. (Is anyone else hoping this also comes with a police check????)

Mood clothing – the dress that asks for sex for you

Also to pop into my inbox this week was an article about hypercolour clothing making a comeback. Somewhere between the hypercolour t-shirt days of the 80s’ and the naughty noughties, heat sensitive clothing has come a long way. Introducing the transparent dress’ – a dress that turns transparent when you’re getting a little hot under the collar and want to give your date the green light.

From what I can gather, it’s just the top half of this very low-cut crazed creation that radiates this subtle seduction technique.  Therefore if your come-to-bed-with-me eyes are letting you down, or, if you can’t find the words to say ‘it ain’t gonna happen sweetheart’ … this dress is for you!

Playing ‘dress-ups’ for adults

And finally, if hiding behind the privacy of your laptop is a little more your style before you hop into the hot seat (or bed) there are a host of websites that can cater for your individual needs…no matter how diverse. For example, ever wanted to slide down a fireman’s pole (literally)? Well, there’s a website that can help you do just that – by pairing you with someone who works in uniform. Now that’s customer service for you!

So it seems dating for sex is no longer a taboo matter. Gone are the days the ‘desperately seeking’ section hidden at the back of the newspaper is the only port of call for this audience.  And why should it be if conventional dating doesn’t float your boat?  However for now, I might leave the shag lottery and flashing transparent dresses to the more daring!

Princess Ruby on ‘The Great Drought’

19 Jun

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.

Princess Ruby on saying goodbye to her 20’s and to 20-year-old models on hallucinogens

7 May

There comes a time in your late 20’s when you realise you’re getting older. This epiphany struck me last week while at a beach/foam party on Thailand’s infamous Ko Phangan Island.

Reminiscing about beach parties gone by, I was looking forward to some semi-debauched behavior; while sipping the mandatory, yet lethal, Red Bull and vodka buckets as the sun came up. However, after shortly arriving at the party, I realised something had changed – and that something was me. Unlike the rest of the inebriated crowd, I was no longer 19.

Ko Phangan beach party

I felt like I was about five (or to be exact, ten) years too late for the party, and no amount of vodka or Rihanna on repeat could pull me out of my I’m-too-old for this trance. This feeling was heightened by the bewildered expressions of the tanned, fresh-faced darlings when discovering my age.

However, after a blonde six-foot boy claiming to be a staggering 20 and an Abercrombie and Fitch model, introduced himself – my opinion swayed. I decided to apply that age-old adage ‘when in Rome’ or as in my case, Ko Phangan – after all, I have visited the London Abercrombie and Fitch store and had been mesmerized by these topless models.

So, I told myself what any single girl would…..I’m in paradise, dancing on a beautiful beach with a model to the soundtrack of the waves, and well, Rihanna. Get over it. Did it matter that he was continually pouting and wearing a red cowboy hat saying ‘offers free sex’? At that moment, I decided it didn’t.

After some small talk, Mr Offers-Free-Sex, pulled me into the foam party and led me to the back of the bubbled area until we were both drenched from head to toe (bearing in mind being five-foot this took a lot less time for me). We started to dance and as we got closer, I was flooded with both first kiss excitement, and well,  foam.

I then looked into his eyes –  and a completely vacant expression stared right back at me. Seemingly oblivious to my presence, he continued to pout and began to erotically rub his chest and stare at the star sprinkled sky, before declaring ‘oh man, I’m so fucked on magic mushrooms right now’.

It was at this point I decided I was well past the seduction techniques, or lack thereof, anyone born in the 1990’s. So I left him and his red hat bopping in the foam, as my friend and I headed home – leaving a trail of bubbles, and our early 20’s behind us.