(no subject)

[johnny9fingers]

Upon proper reflection the date itself didn't go well: Milady was perfectly well behaved in the circumstances. First there was a problem finding the fucking 'gastropub' in question, which despite the marvels of the interweb, maps, sat-nav etc, we singularly failed to discover - in amongst the new development hell that is the South Bank of the river near Wandsworth Bridge it remains a quest as yet uncompleted - another day no doubt. We settled for a Tapas Bar, which was actually pretty good, however I sat with the view of the river, so Milady had nothing but my face to concentrate on. Not a good move Ninefingers.
Then of course there's the difficulty one has in conversing with young folk without either dominating the exchange (bad, very bad, and avoided) or sounding falsely condescending (hopefully avoided too).
Small niggly things bothered me throughout the evening, and not to do with Madame, but more like the ordinary irritations of life suddenly amplified - and they all went up to eleven.
When we returned to my flat (normally a 35 minute drive but on this evening 20 minutes from Wandsworth Bridge - I believe the phrase is 'Green Wave' which gave me a transient sensation of grace) I knew she'd have to leave reasonably early as she had an early start the next morn. Therefore was trying to burn a copy of 'Dub Side of the Moon' for her, as she quite liked the joke. Sometimes, even the most reliable kit (my G3) can prove temperamental. A five minute task became a twenty minute one.
Throughout I did my best to be as charming as poss in my normal self-deprecating fashion. Did my best to make the girl laugh - and she is a girl, she revealed she was not yet 28 - what was I doing, this is madness - even if she does rather like older posh chaps.
All in all, small things; the stubbing of toes; the breaking of fingernails.
I wouldn't run a book on there being a repeat, however...though, despite all this she does still manage to interest me, I just doubt there being a reciprocity of feeling. Down to her...
'And we don't care...we're pretty... pretty vacant; pretty... pretty vacant.'


 (As an aside, London has shut down because of snow.)

Comments

[masquedbunny.livejournal.com]

I was listening to that song last night.

From what I read from your more recent entry, she seems interested in a second date; so it couldn't have been as bad as all that. So just go on another--you'll be more comfortable in one another's company, and probably have more fun in the second go 'round.

And I envy London's snow (Boston seems to be feeling the effects of that global warming that the president doesn't really believe in, a disappointingly green winter).

[johnny9fingers.livejournal.com]

I've been rather spoiled, I feel, when it comes to women. I'm only tolerable looking, but have a large personality of a specific type, which has tended to attract clever women (probably designed so to do, but unconsciously). Added to which I acquired the normal levels of charisma and self belief that accrue from doing something very well in an industry full of unearned and dim charismatics. The sins of my younger self were magnificent, alas: as have been many of those women who cared to share my bed. But now the world is changed, or so it seems.

THEY flee from me that sometime did me seek,
With naked foot stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek
That are now wild and do not remember
That sometime they put themselves in danger
To take bread at my hand; yet still they range
Busily seeking with a continual change.

Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once in special,
In thin array after a pleasant guise,
When her loose gown did from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small,
Therewithall sweetly did me kiss,
And softly said, "Dear heart, how like you this?"

It was no dream, I lay broad waking.
But all is turned thorough my gentleness,
Into a strange fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness,
And she also to use newfangleness.
But since that I so kindly am served,
I would fain know what she hath deserved.

As the poet Thom Wyatt put so eloquently.

[(Anonymous)]

Large personality.

Snort.

M

[johnny9fingers.livejournal.com]

Okay Em, will small personality do? (Anything to stop you snorting.)

[(Anonymous)]

I wondered what counted as personality, that's all.

As you were.

M

P.S. What's wrong with me snorting? I'll do a giggle like little H i you prefer...

[johnny9fingers.livejournal.com]

Would you prefer I told everyone I had a small... oh, let's not go there.
Hope N and H are well.