Thursday, November 01, 2007

Date II: This Time It's Serious

Rocking Horse Shit. A £12 note. Decent politicians. Religious extremists who are quite content to do their own thing whilst letting everyone else get on with theirs. Jim Davidson being funny.

And me going on a second date.

One date was miracle enough in itself yet, in the two months since I'd last seen Janice*, we eventually hooked up to rekindle the passion.
The largely indifferent passion.
Twinged with frissons of 'What was the point of this again?'

(* Obviously, Janice isn't her real name. I mean, Janice. How many people do you know called Janice? I don't know any. Please don't write in to say that you know at least two because try as I might, I really don't care.
Oh, and no 'Friends' references, please.)

Now don't get me wrong. We had a nice time. At least I did. It was fun. After our meals, we stayed put for coffee. We even lingered for a fair while until the staff asked us to leave so they could prepare the table for the people waiting by the door.

So that's a good sign, isn't it?

But that good old chemistry, it just wasn't there. And I get really narked when that chemistry ain't there, because I'm pretty sure I would've got on well with Hitler.
And then shot him.

Janice was quite chatty all evening, and my initial nerves from Date 1 weren't there tonight, so I began contemplating if I would like to have sex with her.

Basically, yes.

She is very pretty and seemed quite keen, provided you overlook her occasional lapses staring into the middle distance, seeming vaguely bored now and again. She was also a face-puller, grimacing frequently during emotive moments in her storytelling, leaving an indelible image of her pulsating neckveins scolded into my retinas a good half an hour after she'd stopped gurning.

Yet pushing that image into the furthest recesses of my Ignorevault, I noted her delicate, fine hair, her glistening lips, her smooth porcelain skin and, moreover, her tiny, tiny hands. I had never before been so excited by a lady's hands before, mainly because at that diminutive scale, my cock would look positively gargantuan if she were ever to - in her abject desperation - grasp it. In fact, I'm fairly certain that she could hold Fweng Jr with both hands and his little hat would still be visible.

Being with Janice also made me realise to my shame that I have lost my roots. Not religiously, of course; I had a ham sandwich for lunch. (Plus I don't believe in God.) I am merely referring to the fact that I am as far removed from the Jewish stereotype as can possibly be envisaged.
I am red-headed.
The clipped accent of my public school youth has been obliterated by the Cor-blimey ravages of those teenage years spent in a comprehensive shithole in Barnet. Unless you count my parents and my wider family, I know no other Jews. I am the token Heeb among my circle of friends. I don't even own a car any more. I have the spending power of a mosquito. I have no gold jewellery. I don't meet co-religionists and automatically know their cousin's friend's hairdresser. I live in West London. I am muted into silence if I am thrown back into that world, like a stunned deer that has been slammed into a tree by a Honda Civic.
I am not living 'comfortably', I am in my Thirties without a pot, or my own house in Hendon, to piss in, and I probably shouldn't have said all of the above to Janice tonight as advanced personal resentment tends to alienate the opposite sex.

To nobody's surprise, this date was not meant to be. I don't think we 'got' each other. At one point, I could even swear she was trying to ruffle my feathers by being contrary, discussing controversial subjects and taking an unshakably Genghis Khan stance to my liberal, devil-may-care attitude, to such an extent that I had to ask her if she was deliberately trying to wind me up.
'Yes', she replied without explanation.
'Fine by me', was my retort, comfortable in the knowledge that that would probably wind her up.

Janice drove me to the tube. I kissed her on the cheek and found myself saying, 'I'll call you', or 'I'll be in touch', before realising that I probably wouldn't. But in saying that, her unenthusiastic response told me all I needed to know. I shut the door and, after a suitable pause, she took off in her car at speed.

If sexual rejection has a sound, it is frantically screeching tyres.


Angela-la-la said...

Oh my fucking un-believed-in god; will you men ever get it?!

Darling, when a woman is blatantly, deliberately and so out there that even a man can see it obviously trying to wind you up it's because she's bored with the liberal, open, live and let live crap that you've been giving her and she wants to see some tiger with an opinion and the teeth to back it up whether it be right or wrong.

As one of the most fiercely independent females in the world, and because you're a particularly lovely mate, I'll let you into a secret...

What most modern women want is a man that's liberal at work (so they can be proud when they talk about him as their partner at social functions) and/but alpha at home (so they know they're gonna get fucked, hard, regularly and well even if his job is community based and low paid)

Hope this helps.


fwengebola said...

Erm, she was talking about the Congestion charge to see if I was capable of fucking her into the 26th Century?

Z said...

Oh, now I get it. You're not looking for a really attractive woman with whom you have fun, who is maybe not going to be a soulmate or too devoted, but who will challenge your views just to start a sparky conversation, which just could end up erotically charged. You aren't looking for hot sex at all. You're looking for The One. And you want the full chemistry to be there by the second date or else jack it in (or do I mean off?).

Good luck, honey.

Anonymous said...

Never mind, mofo. There'll be some single chicks at my wedding for your delectation...

Shoshana said...

I'm still here, just haven't had a lot of time on my hands lately for blog-reading. But a 2nd date for you is apparently news enough to reel me back in. That elusive chemistry is always the kicker. I don't know anything about the London Jewish scene, but according to a friend of mine, Jewish chicks have the best boobs, so maybe you should look there ;)

Anonymous said...

You're right... she wasn't for you. It was the fact that she was acting bored. No hope there, and not your type, despite the tiny hands (looks down at own hands, disturbingly average-sized).

Better luck with the single chicks at the wedding.

bittersweet me said...

the sound of screeching tyres, tee hee. I've hear that a couple of times!

Sorry about the date.

Peach said...

she was obviously blind, devoid of wit and humour and stupid

Quote said...


I sincerely wish you better luck with your next date, whoever it's with.

Oh, and have you got Janice's number?

elif said...

maaan all those V.C. Andrews details there are a bit... anyway... :) yeah it sometimes just doesn't happen. and it happens (or doesn't happen) to everyone. i know it happened to me. so i don't think you have to blame yourself. happen. yes after a while the word lost its meaning. hmm...

Clarissa said...

Despite your affinity for her hands, she sounds like a bitch.

looby said...

Well, it sounds as though the tepid reaction was mutual. At least you're not sitting there pining away because the spark has only gone one way.

The last time I thought I had a date, I'd arranged a day off work in the week, had got my best undies on just in case - then she cancelled by e-mail at 7.30am on the day, saying she had "too many dates."

Best of luck. It's fucking depressing most of the time, this dating business, but obviously you have to keep going because the first prize is such a big one. So to speak.

DJ Kirkby said...

Consider it a lucky escape.

Will said...

She sounds like a total anti-Semite.

londongirl said...

unlucky. But it's a numbers game. Get back out there.

Anonymous said...

i know two janices...jani...?whatever...

Girl Friday said...

I mean this in the nicest way possible (for both you and I). Fewng, I am so glad that I haven't dated you. Or maybe I have, that would explain a lot.

looby said...

Is Angela single? Oh God, these fucking weird words you have to type in to post a simple comment like that.

fwengebola said...

Z ~ Erm, not that specifically, no. But some chemistry would help.
Anon ~ Yes I know. I met a nice lady.
Shosh ~ I have looked there but I would like to do more research on the matter in general.
LFM ~ Hands have now become very important to me. I am now looking for a lady with Jeremy Beadle's Poland Syndrome. (But not Jeremy Beadle, obviously.)
BM ~ Pfft. Plenty more fi...
Urgh, forget it.
Peach ~ No, that's not fair.
wait, yes it is. No pleasing some people. Thank you.
Quote ~ Yes I do. Would you like it?
Elif ~ Is 'happen' and its derivatives the first word native Turkish speakers learn when they are studying English?
My sister read 'Flowers in the Attic.' Those book covers used to freak me out.
Clar ~ Nooo, not a bitch at all. Just uninterested in me. (That would, by your definition, make all women worldwide, bitches.)
Looby ~ One good thing about maturity is not being surprised any more. I'm looking forward to my next break-up where I get to be really nonchalant and indifferent.
You took a day off work to date? Bloody hell. That'll make you think about what's to come.
Or not, if you catch my drift.
DJ K ~ Oh I do. I very much do.
Will ~ Yes. A Jewish one.
LFM ~ I agree. I want to hook up with the cute girl at the Registry office who was helping out at my mate's wedding. Unfortunately, that will require me casually going back there on a weekday.
GF ~ Hullo, and welcome. And thanks for the vote of confidence.
Looby again ~ No to my knowledge. But then that ain't much.

elif said...


luna said...

If she was a bitch (like me) she would have gone to the loo and next thing you'd hear would have been the screeching tyres while you were paying our bill.

Considering you inexplicably dumped her first and she gave you a second chance, giving you a lift on top of a crap evening was an extremely gracious gesture on her part.

P.S. Angela's speaking strictly for herself.

fwengebola said...

Elif ~ Stoppit.
Luna ~ I dumped her? I dumped her?? Where, how and why did you infer that? Neither of us called each other back for a while. There was no dumping, and we were equally complicit in whatever we did.
So there.

Angela-la-la said...

Ooh, you made the POTW shortlist!

Are you proud? Are ya?

fwengebola said...

Really??? BRILLIANT!!