Three men and a Lady.

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What better way to forget a past lover than to throw yourself into the dating game. Within two nights of returning to London I had been asked out to three dates, I have to admit this made me feel rather smug with myself.

Date # 1

Chris the funny man was someone I had met a few months prior and we had kept in casual touch over facebook, he contacted me upon my return and we met at a small bar in Kensal Rise for open mic comedy night. Chris is a really relaxed person and I found the conversation to flow easily. He works in Marketing for a local Italian chain and moonlights as an amateur comedian. As interesting as I found him, I was not attracted. Not tall enough, small mouth (though very big feet - one has to wonder) and just not my 'type' (having a career and kind??).

As we watched each act and laughed and sometimes gasped at the more often than not crass and degrading humour, I noticed that many of the comedians, and indeed the crowd were of the homosexual variety. After a few drinks and close observation I began to wonder if Chris himself fit into this category. There was no attempt from him to close the gap between where we sat, no lingering touches; the body language was all very friendly.

This was not a disappointment, merely a curiosity; we finished the night with a mate embrace and organised to meet the following week, which I am looking forward to. Regardless of Chris' sexual preference, I feel he is going to be a really interesting friend to spend time with.

Date # 2

Andrew was a friend of a friend that I had met with Andy after I returned from Italy. We enjoyed a nice conversation and found we had both recently broke from our partners within the last three months. After an hour or so we agreed to meet up the following week.

Andrew had originally wanted to take me for dinner, however as I was only free during the late evening in the week, we settled for a drink. We met at the station and we walked to a traditional English country bar, it was really lovely, full of character and charm. We talked easily through our first drink and paused uncomfortably when we both drained our glasses, silence endured as we both eyes the empties... he was not going to offer to buy another round!!!! I casually asked if he would like me to get the next and replied yes. Douche! I have to admit, this was very off putting, I have no qualms about taking turns, but for some reason this annoyed me.

He did begin to redeem him self with the dreamy looks he was giving me whilst twirling my hair in his fingers, he was very complimentary, and due to warming effect the alcohol had on me I did not object when he moved in for the kiss, a very good kisser he was.

He then ruined it all by asking if I wanted to come back to his house for a 'drink'... yeah, right. I was taken back by the question and told him he was presumptuous, 'no, no' he insisted, this was an innocent remark and there was no hidden agenda, he was apparently under the impression we lived close by, pffft. I told he was kidding himself if he thought I was coming back to his house to give him a blow job. His shocked he was had me internally laughing for the rest of the night.

He walked me to the bus stop which was all very nice, but I have no plans to see him again, his intensions were clear and I have no interest to be an easy lay.

Date # 3

Matthew and I had met almost a full year prior, as an American expat working abroad I was thankful to join in English conversation during my weekend trip Brussels where he resides. We had clicked instantly and both felt a very strong attraction, however at the time we were dating other people and as a result spent a great evening together, with only temptation between us.

I was incredibly excited and nervous to be seeing Matthew, I was unsure of what to expect, was he still dating someone? Did he realise I was single now? Would we still be attracted to each other? The other dates had been time fillers, but this was the one that filled me with that lovely tingle feeling.

Matthew was catching the Eurostar to London for the weekend. We met at the station and headed to his hotel to check in, which was gorgeous! We spent the first hour or so lost, first looking for the hotel and then the room itself, he has a great nature and all we could do was laugh at ourselves.

The night was lovely, we went to a lounge for a few drinks and then to a rowdy bar for some 'English' culture: AKA loud and poorly played live music and orange skin wrapped in minimal cloth. It was a really nice night and we were able to talk easily.

He walked me to the tube and we organised a date for Saturday, he wanted to take me out, I tried my best to appear calm, however when I squealed 'really!' and began happy dancing, I am certain he picked up on my excitement.

We met at Piccadilly on the Saturday night, had a cocktail then walked to the theatre, I was beside myself, I love the theatre and for a man who was essentially taking me on a date for the 1st time, I felt incredibly spoilt.

The play was great, very funny and it was nice to see we shared the same humour, afterwards we walked around Soho and shared a sundae, we strolled along the Thames and under the London eye. We talked about our lives, careers, futures, wants and needs. Getting to know Matthew was very interesting and he asked me a lot of questions about myself, so I can only presume he enjoyed getting to know me as well.

We walked back to his hotel and he ordered Martini's for us both in the very trendy hotel bar, we sat on stools facing each other and when I least expected, he finally leant in and kissed me. It was very soft, and very nice. I am sure I turned red. When the bar closed we decided not to end the night just yet and went up to the room, where we sat kissing.

It reminded me of being a teenager again. My body wanting to do more, but also being not ready and to be honest, a little scared. The kissing was gentle, respectful and just incredible. At no point was he sexually passionate. His hands were either on my face, my neck or holding my own. The experience left me flushed and giddy.

We agreed it was best I go, he was not sure he could show much more restraint if I stayed, and I'm sure I would not have objected if he had tried.

He called me a taxi and insisted he paid.

Is glowing an understatement here?

As I sat in the car I felt respected, I felt like a woman. It was a wonderful feeling.

We met again on the Sunday for breakfast before he headed back to Brussels. The time was too short, though probably perfect for start. He asked if I wanted to meet again, either in London, Brussels, or perhaps elsewhere.

What do you think I said? I'm already looking for flights.<a name="_MailAutoSig"></a>

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