7) Dating Wine Tasting
July 21, 2006
Dating whilst tasting wine!! The concept was made for me. £30! A bloody bargain! I will meet a single man who steadfastly supports the wine industry like I do. He will probably be a barrister or graphic designer. He might even be planning to buy a vineyard. I see myself in a bikini top and denim skirt treading on grapes somewhere in sunny France, surrounded by well-behaved giggling brown babies playing boules.
I book my place. The email verification is very classy. Blimey! He might even have a title.
I invite Male Friend so he can practise his “Treat em Mean” tactics. Male Friend has about six women on the go at the moment. He ignores them all. They respond like starving feral dogs salivating after his flesh.
Obviously I am far too knowing and wise ever to be seduced by such mind tricks.
I dress in the outfit I wore when I last had a snog. I paint my toe and finger nails “filthy scarlet”. I have a huge graze on my right knee. I cut it on a rock whilst swimming in the sea. I quite like it. The look is incredibly popular high-class whore who got carpet burns from entertaining World Leaders on a priceless Venetian rug.
The wine tasting is in bloody Clapham. I hate going to South London. It’s miles away and is where bad things happen.
I meet Male Friend outside our venue.
“I’ve had four pints already!”
“Oh God.”
The venue is called Infernos. The name says it all, as do the three bouncers eyeing up underage girls in mini puffball skirts outside.
I quickly run to the loo. There’s two inches of water on the floor. I wade to a cubicle. There’s excrement all over the toilet bowel. I sense that this is clean by Infernos standards. ‘I’ll hold it in’, I think and wade out again.
The wine tasting room is tatty and smoky. There are mirrors on the ceiling. Owing to the rather subtle lighting I think I look quite hot in the ceiling mirrors. I insist Male Friend takes a photo. The first fourteen are all rubbish but then we nail it. He loves coming out with me.
I have a glass of wine and survey my prey. A de rigeur uniform of jeans-and-pressed-shirt-not-tucked-in is rigorously adhered to. Where I was hoping for a barrister I can now see I’ll be lucky to find a tiler with a drink problem.
“You’re like the best looking man here”
Male Friend smiles smugly and visibly puffs up.
“Fuck me, Luce, what happened to your leg”
“It’s a carpet burn. I’ve been rutting like a dog”
“Yeah right”
I laugh sweetly. I vow silently to scupper his chances with the ladies tonight.
A Dizzy Girl shows the ladies to their seats. The will men rotate the room taking wine to the ladies. There are fifty of us in the space. Each person will speak to six of people of the opposite sex for twelve minutes each. This doesn’t strike me as the most sensible manner in which to organize a dating event for fifty people. Still, I’m sure they know best.
My spot is on a funny little level between two floors. It’s quite cramped. I’m wedged between a bloody great silver pole and a DJ booth. The girl next to me is Australian with massive boobs in a low cut top. She is drunk and loud. I like her.
My first guy arrives with a glass of warm, flat sparkling wine. “Hi, what do you do?” he says.
I am instantly bored. “Nothing much. What’s in your fridge?”
“Huh! I’m a systems analyst.” The twelve minutes tortoise by. Eventually he tells me his fridge is full of probiotic drinks and berries. I don’t believe him. Every single’s fridge in London contains some out of date hummus and an old piece of feta.
A lovely tall Irish man sits down in front of me “Your warm wine, madam.”
I giggle and toss my hair banging my head on the pole behind me. “Bloody pole!”
Irish man smirks. The penny drops. “Urgh! It’s a lap dancing pole. I hope they’ve cleaned it. Hm. I’ve seen the loos here. It’s doubtful.”
He laughs. He’s got lovely teeth.
Dizzy Girl shouts into a microphone, “Sorry I forgot to explain but the men have to move on three places not just one.”
Irish man moves. I try desperately hard to conceal my disappointment.
Owing to an error by Dizzy Girl I don’t get to meet six men. I only meet five. I get one Algerian man with a funny little beard twice.
I ask them all what they have in their fridges. They are all remarkably healthy. One tall bloke nearly seduces me with tales of dauphinois potatoes. His friend comes to speak to me next.
“I’ve heard about you! There’s a body…. Hang on. No!... Last time someone asked me that….. Hang on! No!No! Wait…. The body of the last person to ask me that, that’s what’s in my fridge.”
“I can see you’re effortlessly witty”
I smile and edge back further into the Sweaty Fanny Pole. There is something vaguely psychotic about this one and he looks like a gnome.
They all ask me about my star sign. Everyone knows that men know nothing about astrology, and only feign an interest in order to get women into bed. Women, of course, have all read Linda Goodman’s book Love Signs from cover to cover about 5 times.
The “wine tasting” eventually ends. The Psychotic Gnome won’t leave my side. I am dying for a wee.
Male Friend is in a corner with a blonde girl in a pretty dress. He is leaning towards her and looking down with a tender look of sincere interest. I know he is only assuming this position so he can see down her dress. I go over and chirpily say to her, “Don’t believe a word he’s a knob” and then pinch his arm saying, “Come on darling we have to relieve the babysitter by midnight.”
Psychotic Gnome appears. He thinks this is very funny. “You’re great. You’re a real challenge. Do you want to come to a barbeque?"
I escape to join the drunk Aussie girl. Two men are looking at her breasts. She is calling one of them a “dickhead.” She is pleased to see me.
“I always get aggressive when I’m pissed….. You’re great! We should go out sometime, somewhere good.”
Psychotic Gnome is gazing at me. I feel very uncomfortable. I have to leave. I scribble my number for the Aussie girl on a napkin and say goodbye.
Psychotic Gnome says, “I want one of those. I want your number.”
“Um no, don’t be silly.”
“I want your number. Give me your number.” The veins on his neck are looking angry.
“No”
“I want your number,” he is shouting now.
“I don’t want to give you my number,” I say slowly in the low stable voice I use when I’m auditioning to play nannies and policewomen.
Realizing I’m in trouble, Male Friend drunkenly grabs me and we leave.
“That was brilliant, I’d boff them all. I nailed it this time. I said I was a teacher. They all squealed. Normally I say actor/musician and they instantly think I’m unemployed. Who was your stalker? You can really pull them!”
I sit on the tube picking the scab on my knee. I think about the last time I wore this. I did some very nice kissing with Homeless Friend’s work colleague. He was a bit of a kissing wizard.
I get home and Homeless Friend asks me if I had any luck.
“The wine was shit. I sat next to a Sweaty Fanny Lap-Dancing Pole and I got stalked by a Psychotic Gnome”
Homeless Friend displays her sympathy by laughing so hard she has to bite her towel.
“You know Merlin the Man with the Marvellous Tongue who I kissed at your work do? Has he asked after me at all?”
“Nope”
“Are you sure he didn’t ask for my number?”
“Yep.”
“He didn’t say, ’Your friend was nice I’d like to see her again.’ ”
“Nope!”
“Bastard.”
-o0o-
“Hungry?"
“Starving.”
“Hummus and feta?”
“Perfect.”
|
|
Talk to me be brutal!!
|
July 24, 2006 - Whine tasting dating
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
Why oh why do you and most other women think that real men could give a shit about tasting wine and chatting to birds? Any man worth his salt will always view a woman as more desirable over a pint of beer. Find yourself a beer tasting dating evening and you'll find the real way to a man's heart.
Yours
Mine's a lager!
PS. why haven't these dating things thought about this hot or is it hop business opportunity? |
| Permanent Link
|
July 24, 2006 - "Why haven't people thought about this hot business opportunity?"
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
| I suspect mainly because "beer tasting" conjures up a (most unfair) image of dirty beards and sandals with socks. Unless by "tasting" you meant " two and a half pints of stella an hour", in which case the object is surely not to taste the chemical fizz. |
| Permanent Link
|
July 24, 2006 - Mervin the man with the marvellous toungue
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
Cosmetic surgery thats the way forward my dear! You need BREASTS. If they are not noticing you now then my girl MAKE THEM BIGGER, then maybe even male friend might look twice at you and salivate down your cleavage. As for Mervin with the marvellous tongue he was on a bet.......... he won his body weight in stella for that snog, good man!
I await your next disaster with a knowing smile..............when will you start taking my advice? |
| Permanent Link
|
July 24, 2006 - So predictable
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
| Oh how bloody typical, its a conspiracy, no boyfriend = no breasts, thats so MALE! |
| Permanent Link
|
July 24, 2006 - Say your prayers convent girl...
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
Before I lay me down to sleep
I pray for a man that's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong
One who's dick is big and long.
One who will make love till my body's twitchin
In the hall, garden and kitchen.
I pray that this man will love me no end
And never attempt to shag my best friend
And as I kneel, down by my bed..
I look at the wanker he sent me instead
Edited by Lucy on 24/7/2006 at 10:57 PM |
| Permanent Link
|
July 25, 2006 - Untitled Comment
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
I am Homeless Friend's new housemate, Kate. I love your blog and I just pimped it in my livejournal: http://mskatej.livejournal.com/
Mostly my readers are after gay porn but I'm sure some of them will check you out. |
| Permanent Link
|
July 28, 2006 - Not sure about mixing wine with men
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
| After a messy night of two too many bottles of wine and a token sambucca I am currently drowning in self pitty and have come to the conclusion that I am actually dying. I have sworn never to drink again, in part due to my mouth tasting like something died in it and also due to my "friend" using my name to express the pungent smell of my breath today (Hollietosis!). As I am no vision of beauty, dribbling here on the sofa with a bucket propped next to me and a kebab carton stuck to my left foot, I could think of nothing worse than having to "entertain" a male after the wine tasting last night. |
| Permanent Link
|
September 7, 2006 - Beer Tasting Dating is here
|
| The Gospel According to Anonymous |
Well if it takes beer to get these single boys out, then so be it, as there is now beer tasting dating from the makers of the wine tasting nights.
You'd think the men would be queuing in their thousands, but yet, its still the sexy confident girls out there who are up for a laugh that are getting in on the action.
What more does it take guys?! |
| Permanent Link
|
|
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Navigate
" Home
" Archives
" Email Me
|
25) Guardian Soulmates Online