Boyfriend material

I'm in deep trouble.

There's this guy. [insert sigh sounds here]

I know him through a friend. He has eyes as blue as the sky; piercing, mesmerizing and sometimes sad-looking eyes. I''ll name him Mister Turquoise, since that's my favourite colour. 

Mister Turquoise is almost six years older than I am. His age is not a big deal, but, the thing is, he's married. Kind of. He broke up with his (soon to be ex-)wife just a few months ago, and is waiting for the divorce to be final. They were together for over seven years. She moved out a while ago, he stayed in their old apartment. 

I've met him a few times, and there's this weird electricity between us. He looks at me like he knows all my secrets - and like he really needs to tell me his. I tried to scare him away by telling him my story, but for some reason he's not freaking out at all. I told him that my heart was melt to stone by a few idiots, I'm ruined, spoiled, I don't trust men at all. But I trust him. Such a scary feeling.

I'm a bit afraid that he'll use me as a rebound girl, a band-aid to soothe his pain. I asked him a million times about that. His answer is usually that I'm way too precious to be a band-aid. If I was a rebound girl, I wouldn't know anything about his past. Sex isn't the main thing in our weird little relationship either. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.

This is where I usually run. Why am I not lacing up my sneakers already?

Because he's serious boyfriend/husband/father of my future children material. And I hate it. He's the kindest guy I've met so far. He makes me happy with all these small things: he sends me goodnight texts, he opens doors for me and is sincere in all his tiny remarks about me. I love the way he brushes a few loose strands of hair from my face, how his beard tickles my neck when he's spooning me (apparently I'm into guys and beards - look at that picture of Ryan, ha-ha), how he smiles at me when he notices that I'm awake, how his hand gently touches mine as I'm making coffee in the morning. He helps me with stuff around my flat, takes care of my car and is such a sweetheart.

But why am I still thinking of Mister Yellow when I'm with Mister Turquoise? Too many men, too little time.

My brother's advice: "Sis. Dump him and run". Maybe next week.

A miserable Monday

This is a story about how you should always have an escape plan when dating guys from Tinder.

I met a cute guy on Tinder. Let's call him ... no, let's not call him anything. Random guy #1 is enough. He had one or two pictures on his Tinder profile, no background info. To be honest, I think he looked kinda cute. I started talking to him and he seemed nice. I got his phone number and we started texting. We made plans for Monday night. I got off work really late, but I really wanted to meet this guy - he seemed really interesting.

He gave me his address and I went to his place, we'd decided to watch a movie (and I was supposed to stay the night, obviously). The guy I met at the door was extremely different than the guy I imagined meeting. He was about 5 feet tall (that's about 150 cm for you European people), a good 6 inches (15 cm) shorter than myself. He seemed apologetic somehow, as if he'd known that he would disappoint me. Or maybe he was disappointed that I was this tall?
I promised him earlier that we'd watch a movie together. Fuuuuuuuuck, how do I get out of this?

This guy occupied the space where my brain used to be. No way out. Help?

He wanted me to sit on his bed, next to him, holding his hand throughout the movie. I can't even imagine the situation with a straight face anymore. I just couldn't do it. My brain went berserk inside my head, and for some reason I kept looking around his flat in stead of looking at the telly. He had a guitar hanging on the wall. I snatched it, sat with the guitar in my lap and started tuning it. Ha-ha-ha, he couldn't touch me!

At the perfect hour, just when I had tuned the guitar, Mister Yellow sent me a weird message with a picture of a horse. It was so utterly random, I could do nothing but wonder. I texted him back, asking him for help. I really needed him to save me from this one. He asked me to come over (surprise). I told Random Guy #1 that my friend had an emergency and I needed to leave ASAP. Mister Yellow was awesome, I told him that he just saved me from a terrible, weird-ass date, he laughed and thought the whole thing was "epic".

So, what did I learn?

• Always ask the guy how tall he is, especially if you're into tall men. My minimum is 6 ft, because I need to feel small in comparison to my man. That's just my thing, no need to deny it.
• Make an escape plan. Have friends call or text you during the date - you'll have a perfect excuse to leave.

Phew. Thank goodness I survived. Random Guy #1 texted me a few days ago, asked if we should meet next week. Umm, no? I told him I was dating someone else. Damn, I feel like a bitch.

Mister Blonde, my favourite hockey player

This is a story about me and Mister Blonde.

Mister Blonde is a hockey player with a terrific ass. He's hot in every other way as well, but I just can't get over his glutes in tight jeans. Serious eye candy.
By the way, that's just what I told my girlfriends. "He's the guy with the terrific ass" - haha.

He has a great sense of humour and his beard tickles my face when he kisses me. He's smart and not afraid to show it. We even love the same books, we have the same favourite authors. Before our first kiss he asked me if I consider myself smart. I answered yes, of course, and he kissed me. I wonder what he would have done if I said no, haha.

Mister Blonde was a sort of challenge. He told me that he wasn't able to fall for anyone. Mister Blonde hadn't developed a crush in anyone in several years. No girlfriend in three years.
Challenge accepted. 
Four days later, we're lounging in his bed, he tells me that he wants to be with me. We planned a trip abroad together.

He was sort of a sweetheart. We dated for three or four weeks. I didn't exactly take notes. ;)
Somewhere along the road his roommate told me that he'd just "broken up" with someone... I wasn't quite sure how that was possible, since my Mister Blonde told me on several different occasions that he had no girlfriend, not for three or so years. Turns out he had a somewhat of an on-off-relationship with a friend, who suddenly found a boyfriend and dumped my sweetie Mister Blonde. That's when he joined Tinder and we met. He said that he wasn't ready for anything serious, which was more than OK, and he convinced me that he wanted to keep seeing me.

I took several steps back: I wouldn't send him texts; it took me a few days to add him as a friend on Facebook (he kept reminding me, whoopsie); I never began any conversations with him. I let him do all the work. A sunny Tuesday in March, he told me that we should definitely meet on Thursday. I never really understood all his girlfriend and break-up talk, until I suddenly realized that I was breaking up with him. It was apparent that he wasn't over that weird thing he refused to call a relationship.

I left him there, looking hot while lounging on his bed, put on my headphones and walked to my car. I texted Mister Yellow, told him that I had a really bad day because I just broke up with Mister Blonde, and was in dire need of a hug. He told me to come over. Fifteen minutes later he answered the door wearing nothing but boxer shorts and Ray-Bans. I couldn't stop laughing.

Sometimes things turn out OK in the end, just like that Thursday. I got my hug and Mister Yellow looked happy. Sometimes I feel like that's all I need. People looking happy.

My newest 14 second catch: Meet Mister Brown

Saturday night in a new town.

I was out partying with my brother. I looked ah-freaking-mazing, I wore a little blue-and-white striped dress and heels. My brother was talking to the bartender, I turned right and saw a guy staring at me. He was totally checking me out from head to toe, and I didn't mind. He said "hi", I answered by giving him a Cheshire cat kind of smile and a quick "hello". He said that women usually don't smile that way when someone checks them out like that. I heard myself reply: "I know I am breathtaking, keep looking at me if you like what you see".
My 14 second rule never fails.

I ended up talking to him all night. He told me his darkest secrets and I didn't freak out. He has the cutest daughter. I know this because he showed me a ton of pictures of her. He's separated from the mother over a year ago, so I thought it was okay to even consider dating him. I really like him, he has the sweetest brown eyes. Therefore I'll name him Mister Brown.

I lost Mister Brown somewhere during the early hours of the morning. My iPhone had lost its battery (no surprise there, Tinder eats a lot of energy), so I had no way of calling him. Oh, and I didn't have his number either. I made sure that he got mine, I borrowed a pen from the bartender, wrote a dozen tiny notes with my name and number and filled his pockets with them. I saved my phone number and email address on his phone and wrote my phone number in ink on his forearm. Funny stuff, I guess I really liked him.

Sunday morning.

Mister Brown texted me. He asked me how I felt after meeting him last night. I was hyper, really excited to meet him. He told me that he felt the same way about me, but also that he has a girlfriend. He told me that she'd been just a rebound girl to him, they'd been dating for just over a year. Fuuuuuuuuck. I don't need this. I told him to stop texting me if he's in a relationship with someone else. He refused to stop texting or calling me. He told me that his girlfriend wasn't my problem, he'd deal with her.
I didn't tell him my full story, so he has no way of knowing that I was dumped for another girl. That kind of eats away at you, I would never do that to anyone. Not intentionally, anyway. He kept texting me, I stopped answering. He texts me at least once a week, asking me how I am... What's wrong with him?

Mister Brown texted me again today. He started by sending me that picture. "I need to meet you. Next week?", he said. I don't want to mess anyone's life up, I don't want to meddle in other people's relationships. Not my business. But I really like him. And he's drop-dead gorgeous: tall, dark, kind brown eyes and a rock-hard body. Even my brother showed thumbs-up when they met.

I'll think about it.

A night with Mister Blue and his friends

Friday night in the suburbs.

Mister Blue and I've met a few times.
He's a sweetie, but not a potential boyfriend for me. Not at all. He finds having a girlfriend a serious responsibility - what?! - and who said I was in need of a boyfriend?

Anyway. It was steak and red wine night in the tech student's bijou flat. I promised to bring all the food and wine, if he provided for the entertainment.

Well, I brought a Cabernet Sauvignon called "Breathing Space" - I picked it off the shelf simply because the label had a hot air balloon on it. I sent a picture of the bottle to Mister Blue. He laughed and said I was a silly little kitten.

Turns out that Mister Blue really liked my style in buying wines. Suddenly his kitchen table was covered in all kinds of wines: bicycle wine, Kung-fu wine, sparrow wine, bear wine and my bottle of hot air balloon wine.

Luckily we didn't have to drink all of that by ourselves. He had some friends come over. He introduced me to his friends by saying: "Guys, meet Kitty. She has the prettiest smile. Look."
Sold!

Mister Blue didn't even own any wine glasses, so we enjoyed our wine from coffee mugs, plastic cups and whatnots. I had so much fun! His tech student buddies made me laugh with weird Transformer jokes. Luckily I'm quite the nerd myself and got their puns.

Saturday morning. Headache. My brother calls me up at nine, asking me where I am. I was supposed to leave home early, my brother and I were to work out before hitting the clubs. Yeah, not gonna happen. I showered, got dressed and hoped to die.

I haven't seen Mister Yellow in a few days and I miss him like crazy. He texted me in the morning, asking me for lingerie pictures (not sure if he was kidding) and wishing me a happy weekend with my brother.
Damn.

Tinder surprise

I blame it all on Tinder.

After I Whatsapped Mister Black and it was over between us (click here to read his story), I cried for about five minutes, and then I was OK. I spent the weekend with my family and friends, and someone told me to join Tinder. I did, and my iPhone hasn't stopped buzzing, peeping and ringing since.

To me, Tinder is a game just like any other silly app. I started talking to guys I found attractive, and suddenly realized that I've gained almost 700 Tinder matches. Let's say that if 90% of all the guys on Tinder are douche bags (and thinking back, I think my estimates are quite accurate) - there are still 70 guys on my iPhone worth checking out. So I started working and made a few dates.

This is a quick recap my first week on Tinder.

Monday
My first Tinder date was with Mister Yellow. I met him at a coffee shop during my lunch break. My look was beyond horrible: I had no makeup, my hair was just tied up in my neck in a tight bun, I was wearing running tights and sneakers and I guess I didn't smell that awesome either. For some reason he didn't mind. He made me laugh and I had a blast. I totally wished to meet him again, but we didn't make any arrangements.
After work I met up with Mister Purple. I wasn't really that into him and I certainly didn't like the fact that he asked me to meet him at his place for "dinner and a movie" (which seems to be Tinder code for sex), but I did find him somewhat good-looking, so I went. I guess he was OK, but waaaaay too needy for me. He wanted to watch a thriller or horror movie, just to make sure I'd stay close to him all night. Ehh. Sex with him was kind of awkward at first, because he seemed so unsure of himself, but after a few rounds (yeah, you heard me) he became OK. I guess he was a little shy at first or something. I knew that this was a one time only type of thing, but I tried to stay the night as promised. He wouldn't let me sleep, he was all over me all the time. It sort of freaked me out, so I got dressed and let myself out as he fell asleep. No need to call me again, thank you very much.

Tuesday
I had to work in the evening, so no dates. I chatted with a few guys on Tinder and made a couple of matches.
Mister Yellow texted me, saying he wanted to meet me again. There's something seriously wrong with that dude.

Wednesday
Mister Pink lives quite close to where I work. He texted me on Tuesday, asking if we should meet up (since I was just a few kilometers away). I was free on Wednesday night, so I met up with him. He was ridiculously good looking: tall, dark, mesmerizing eyes, a muscular body - the whole physical package. But there was something wrong with him though. After an hour-long discussion he blurted out that he'd separated from a reeeeally serious relationship last summer, and was still not over it. He was on Tinder because he wanted to get married and have kids real soon. He was attracted to me. No thanks.

Thursday
After work I met up with my girlfriends for a beer. We had a loooooong chat, I told them about my miserable Tinder dates. They found my stories amusing, therefore this blog got started. I had made a date for Thursday night as well. I said good-bye to my girlfriends and met Mister Beige for dinner. He was really funny and nice, but there was something missing. I could be his friend if he asked me, actually, I'd love to. I should text him.
Mister Yellow texted me again. We made plans for Saturday.

Friday
Mister Blue had been texting me for four days. We met on Friday, he took me for drinks after work. I found him attractive, he was a very, very smart guy, which I find really hot. Mister Blue is a tech student and really into space stuff. He oozes intelligence and I feel a lot smarter when I'm with him. I learn stuff from him, even when I'm a little tipsy. I spent five or six hours laughing and making him laugh (a new sensation) before going home. I hugged him goodbye and felt a weird vibe between us, he really wanted to kiss me. I sort of freaked out, ran off. I had a bus to catch.
I tried to booty call Mister Yellow (because he's such a ridiculously hot guy!) but he didn't answer me. Bummer.
Mister Blue texted me when he came home. He told me that he wasn't really into relationships, and didn't expect to find one on Tinder, but he liked me a lot and wanted to try it out.... What's wrong with these people?

Saturday & Sunday
Headache. Mister Yellow called me in the morning, telling me he'd be picking me up in an hour. He'd made some sort of special plans for the day and wanted me to wear a LBD and heels. Daaaaamn. We had a perfect date. I was sold instantly. He'd open doors for me, made sure I was happy all the time and surprised me left and right. I had a weird feeling about him, I could have fallen for him instantly. It sort of freaked me out, but not in a bad way.
Our date lasted 28 hours. He stayed the night. I experienced something awesome, another round of my-brain-splattered-on-the-walls sort of sex. I mean, it had been more than a year since my last experience. I was a bit afraid that this was it, I would never find anyone else. He made me laugh, hugged me, told me funny stories about last summer, kissed me all over. Panic.
Sunday night. Mister Blue called me, asking me to come over - dinner and a movie sort of stuff. Fuck Tinder, I really wasn't interested in sex right now. I told him that we could meet up, I'd bring the food if he'd arrange for a movie. Everything worked out just fine. I spent a few hours in his arms, he kissed my neck, smelled my hair and we watched something that I've already managed to forget. That was nice.

After my first week on Tinder I had loads of dates. I didn't really care for any others than Mister Blue and Mister Yellow. They had something that I felt I needed. Maybe I could give them something and receive something as well.

Feel the love, baby.

The story of Mister Black

Do you know the feeling when you really couldn't care less for someone, yet you still hang on to them?

That's the story of my life with Mister Black. He was my band-aid, my ultimate rebound guy.

Before I get properly started on my story about my life with Mister Black, let me share a few details of myself, the pretty little kitten writing this tiny blog.

I'm a normal girl in my twenties. I have a "real" job, working mostly nine to five. In my spare time I run around the neighbourhood in my hip-hugging black tights and hot pink sneakers and entertain my silly little friends. I wouldn't consider myself especially hot, but there's some weird quality in me that guys find attractive. If you know what the heck it is, let me know.

Later on you'll see that I'm a cold-hearted b*tch, but I wasn't born that way. I used to be "the girl next door".

I used to live with a guy, we'll call him Mister Grey. I stayed with him for way too many years, if you ask me. I met him when I was seventeen, moved in with him at nineteen and separated at twenty-four. If you ask me, I was a perfect, happy little housewife. I made him dinner every night, made sure that he was happy in every possible way. I never spent a night alone after my eighteenth birthday - that is, before I found myself sitting on the couch, telling him to leave our home in the foulest words possible. Weird, isn't it?
It really wasn't my decision to end the relationship, although it may sound that way at first. Mister Grey met a cute dark-haired girl at his company's Christmas party and found himself utterly unhappy with me. He made me miserable, it felt like hurting me was his only mission in life. He broke me into a thousand tiny bits and my heart was covered in bruises. I guess he wanted to push me away, to make sure that I leave him so he doesn't have to make all the hard decisions. This behaviour went on for about six or seven weeks. I lost count at the end. Before we broke up I cried every day and night, couldn't sleep and refused to eat.
After the break-up I was happy, almost delirious. I found myself smiling all the time. Wide smiles, in a Cheshire cat kind of way. It physically hurt my face to smile continuously for days. I guess I just wasn't used to feeling joyful after months of misery.

My friends were awesome. My bf took me clubbing on the first Friday of my new single life. I had never been single in a club before. It was funny, I guess I sent out a weird vibe because I had to push guys away from me. On that Friday my 14-second rule was invented. 14 seconds is generally the time that I'm alone at a club before I'm hit on by some random tall dude in a plaid button-up shirt.
On my first single Friday I did something I'd never done before. I brought a guy home. To our home. Wow, wasn't that odd. I won't even give that random guy his own colour, since I really don't give a damn about him, I don't even remember his name. He was from another town, a few hundred miles away. He fell in love with me instantly. I felt validated, some guy actually liked me for who I was, wanted to touch me and went through all kinds of trouble to pleasure me. Sex with him was awesome. My-brain-splattered-on-the-walls-awesome. I stuck around for a good four or five weeks. It was just another regular Thursday, he called me after work and wanted to tell me something. He told me that he was in love with me, and I freaked out. I broke up with him on the phone, because I couldn't care less to meet him. I told myself that he wasn't the right guy for me, because he never trained legs and it pissed me off.

That's where Mister Black stepped in. He was my Facebook friend, I met him when I was sixteen or seventeen. At sixteen or seventeen, I dated him a few times, until I found out that he slept with tens of chicks. I wasn't that into competing for his attention, so I simply quit seeing him. Somehow he remained in the far-left corner of my mind, I wouldn't delete him from my Facebook friends although I didn't see him for years. It was a Monday night, I had the worst cold ever, and wrote a Facebook post basically saying "I'm sick. Please someone entertain me, bring me food and I'll make it worth your while" and you know who answered - Mister Black, of course. He was funny, he felt like an adventure. I Whatsapped him for a good few days before actually meeting him. When I met him my heart caught fire. I just knew it, this was the guy I should be with, like, forever, or something. I had been single for five weeks when I went for a coffee with him. I met him almost every day, spent every waking moment looking at my phone, wishing he'd send me a message. A good five or six months later I changed my Facebook relationship status from "single" to "in a relationship" - and made it official. I experienced all sorts of stuff with him, we spent four weeks together roadtripping in the summer. Hands down, happiest time of my life.
Basically he was a good friend, but a lousy boyfriend. He couldn't handle money at all. In fact, he still owes me about £1000. He promised me stuff he couldn't keep and I ran to other men, asking for help. That made him ridiculously jealous and I seriously wanted to yell at him. But I didn't, I just turned cold and ignorant. He could spend a weekend without even texting me, even though we'd made plans to do something together. Every time he promised to do be with me, I made other plans "just in case", because I couldn't trust him one bit. I still feel that way about certain guys. I just don't trust them at all.
I dated him for 13 months. Way, way too long. Turns out he cheated on me on every possible occasion. I found that out when I went to his place to collect my stuff after arguing for a few hours on the phone. I stood there, emptying my drawer and packing my bags. I gave him an iPad for Christmas and had trouble deciding whether to take it or leave it, when his roommate suggested that I read his Facebook messages... I guess he wanted me to know something I should have seen coming for a while. I'm a kind of a daredevil, I read the messages and saw how things were. It's really funny how some things don't even surprise you. That's when I learned something about myself: I didn't really care for him. I wasn't hurt that he was somewhere fucking other girls (even though he still denies it), I was stone cold inside. I shrugged, packed my bags, said bye to Mister Black's roommate and disappeared. We broke up on Whatsapp. I didn't even call him.

The good thing with Mister Black was that he helped me get over Mister Grey. Mister Grey used to call me up on the phone, whining, asking me to get together with him.. I guess life with the black-haired chick didn't work out as planned. Too bad.

Mister Grey and Mister Black are still a part of my life, although I hate it. Mister Grey still owns half of the flat I call home, and Mister Black owes me a serious amount of money. And he has my kettle. I seriously want it back. I Whatsapped him about it today, and somehow he'd "forgotten" about it. Someone, please find him and punch him in the throat.

That's the story of my former life.