Apologies for belated blog post

Life is has been fairly crazy recently. I started a new job and have been slaving away trying to do things correctly despite working for free.

So I am officially bored of single life. I no longer want to be coming home to a quiet house, being perved on in sleazy clubs or date guys with secrets.
It's because of this that I finally bit the bullet and signed up to mysinglefriend.com
A friend of mine had had great success with the site previously and had met the man of her dreams so I thought I would give it a go.

If I am being honest the whole idea of online dating makes me feel very stupid and small. Let's be honest it does have an undertone of desperation so I was slightly worried what I might find. First of all was the idea of describing yourself. Am I slender, curveacous etc. I went for slender (yes inside I was laughing 'you wish' to myself but hey ho). Then it asked me if I was a smoker. Now I have been off on smoking for 6 years but I hate calling myself a smoker. I still like to think of myself as a social smoker despite having one on the way to work and one before bed. So again I lied and said an occasional smoker (my thoughts were if I did meet someone I would have to give up to support this anyway). After this my friend had to describe me, and leaving someone to describe you in not so many words is a pretty odd and unsatisfying thing. Despite this Sarah managed to do it pretty well and I was satisfied:

If you're looking for a girl who loves long walks, football, board games and loud clubs... then Abi is definitely NOT the woman for you. If on the other hand you are looking for a girl with phenomenal banter, who can make friends with anyone (in first year of uni Abi actually ended up befriending her attempted mugger), who loves the countryside (for the shooting and drinking), attends London fashion week, adores South African accents, and is a big London Irish fan then look no further.
Why, you may ask, is Abi single? Well being the owner of exceptional banter means that the majority of her friends are guys... I guess she's just prone to being stuck in the friendzone! Abi's sexy, smiley, intelligent and kind hearted (and not to mention the proud owner of a fantastic rack!). She loves to travel, she's already been to Australia, Namibia, Israel and Singapore. After completing a degree in English Abi is currently doing a journalism masters in London. Not just a pretty face...
She's not aiming too high, but if you're a rugby playing, Danny Care/Dom Waldouck look a like with fantastic chat then send her a message. She won't bite... much!

I was happy with that, wrote a short sarcastic description of myself and then moved onto pictures. This is a hard task yet again. Do you choose the one where you are striking a massive pose? Show your fun side with you drunk and dressed as a chav? Do the whole sexy outfit? It's a hard decision. I went for the standard caught unaware photo, a long distance photo and a poser photo. This was the best of the bunch. The majority of my facebook photos happen to be me posing with bob the builder, climbing a wall in my undies or me shaking my thang on the dance floor.

Once this was done I was ready to go. I decided to aim for a guy between the ages of 24 and 33. Despite me only being 22 I am deep down an old woman and can't really handle guys my age with their ability to make every saturday night a visit to a&e. Typically being a London girl I was left with quite a few options and so I began my search. I was surprised there was such a choice. Tall, thin, fat, muscly, arty, bald, model, singer, geeky, foreign etc. I have always thought myself to be someone who never had a set type but now I was starting to wonder. Part of me wanted to prove to myself that I am not shallow but in fact I was proved wrong by the amount of guys I selected who were way out of my league!! I 'added them to my favourites' and sat and waited to see what would happen next. (Granted that last time I went on an online date the guy had cystic fibrosis and I was not aware in the slightest).

I soon recieved messages ranging from normal to cheesy to insane. Ie. 'I'd mug you for your heart' or 'Will you be my princess' (why is it all foreign men seem to think that this is a winning line...in fact it makes me think of mail order brides). But I did luck out.

First up was Matty, a stacked broker from London with a pout and clearly a bit of an attitude. We exchanged a few emails and I'd decided I wanted a big rugby bloke so decided he might be a good idea. We soon arranged a date but I wussed out. Well not quite wussed out... I have one massive dislike. Bad spelling of simple words. It is so infuriating, not to mention that I find it very sexy when a guy is smarter than me (it's not that hard). So I made my excuses and am yet to reschedule :/ sorry Matty.

Then there was Tom. Tom looked like a nice, straightforward guy so we started talking. And not only was he cute but he got my ridiculous sense of humour too. We arranged drinks in Notting Hill and this time I didn't cancel. As I arrived it started to pour down with rain and I hid in the tunnel for cover. Tom called to enquire where I was and to mention that he had no umbrella (whoops). We stayed on the phone trying to locate each other and I headed towards the zebra crossing, where at the other end he was supposedly standing. I looked across and spotted a tall, good looking guy with a good fashion sense. tick, tick tick. We grabbed a drink and perched in the corner unfortunately right next to the men's loos. Classy. After two drinks we loosened up and begun to really chat. I discovered his love of dj-ing, about his family, where he lived, what his most embarrassing drunken situation was and had even told him about the night I became 'asbo abi' (a story I will soon blog about). We relocated to another pub and the conversation flowed so much so it reached 12am and I realised I needed to catch the last tube. We walked towards the tube and Tom stopped me, spun me around and kissed me. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a move he had used before, it felt rather like a cheesy movie scene. The next day we thanked each other for a good night and arranged drinks again the following week.

We met the week after and I was excited. Despite him having slight OCD ( a really bad thing considering he's obsessed with tidying his room- and my room is probably housing a family of 16) he ticked a lot of my boxes, smart, driven, charming, family orientated, good looking, honest. We returned to the same pub where I suddenly was innudated with calls from work. Despite my awkward interruptions again things went well...but this time I didn't restrain the drinks, four drinks in and I was tipsy and falling for his charms. I lent in and kissed him, and we ended up having a bit of a make out sesh. One thing led to another and due to alcohol and persuasive talk on his part I was soon back at his looking at his terrapin (not dirty he actually has one). The next morning I woke up in one of his band t-shirts, supposedly he had given me the smallest one he owned to quote 'see your boobs in the morning easier'. Hmmm... A kiss goodbye and I jumped on the tube home, a walk of shame at 9am before I had a day of interviews working from home.

What's annoying me however is the fact I am still not sure how I feel. Tom's goodlooking, funny, friendly and we get on really well but am I supposed to be having butterflies yet? Because of this I have now got four dates this week from the site.
Joe- a rugby playing guy of 6ft6 (highest heels please), Simon- a posh scot with a love of shooting, Luke- a very goodlooking guy with a love of travelling, Matt- a funny hockey player who works in media.

I'll keep you updated but for now I think I'm starting a dating addiction. This could possibly get worse.

The Curse

I can't sleep so finally decided to update my blog. What a writer I am! It clearly has nothing to do with the fact that I watched Paranormal Activity on my own and now have an active imagination when my floorboards creak.

So friday night my old housemate from university came to stay. She is one of the few girls that I can actually stand to be with for more than a few hours. Her chat consists of witty sharp banter rather than discussing how many pounds she has lost that week and which Jonas brother she'd do. She is however dirty minded as hell. Hence why we get on so well. I walked in on her many a times using handcuffs...and that was a tame night.
Anyway so we crack open a few bottles of wine and discuss work/holidays etc and then she suddenly goes quiet and looks at me. 'So Abi. How's the curse?'. The curse...I'd forgotten about the curse. In my second year of university we had just been to Fuzzy ducks (Fhm's easiest place to pull in the UK and our favourite haunt on a wednesday night) and were stumbling back home together. Suddenly she stopped stared at me and said 'Abi, you and I we're just not meant to have boyfriends at university'. We laughed it off but a strange thing happened, since that comment neither of us has managed to maintain a relationship whatsoever. Odd considering we had both managed to do the relationship thang quite well before hand.
We begun to compare notes: we had both dated older guys, both had failed. We had both dated our boss, both had failed. We had both been on an internet date, and been deeply disappointed. The pattern continued. As apparently had the curse. I know what you're thinking. All of those things have happened to lots of people. Well try having them occur over a period of 3 years. Then throw in the fact that both of us have had the WORST luck- I'm talking psycho men, men with bad B.O, guys with weird sex fetishes and stalkers. It's pretty bad.
So how to break it? Well she's moving to Australia and me? Well I think it's time to buy a puppy. Cats are so 1990s.