What's it all about, Bloggie?

* Today I am mostly listening to: Freemasons – When You Touch Me *

No, seriously, just how do you do it? I may not have mentioned it for a little while, but I do actually dabble in the world that is on-line dating. It has to be said that I don't have much luck even though that's where I met The Mrs (ex). The site I use is apparently a complete meat market, but I have to say that I'm still to experience this side of it.

I've chatted with a few people on there. You may remember I mentioned the Gaelic Princess. We met for drinks; I thought it went OK-ish, but it didn't go any further than that. I stopped the e-mailing just to see if she would be the one to make first contact. Alas it wasn't meant to be.

Then there was The Specialist. We chatted a bit on-line, then she asked for my phone number as she found talking directly a lot easier. After a few doubts, I gave her my phone number. She phoned. I didn't answer (nerves). I texted her and said I was in Tesco (I wasn't). After a few more texts, she phoned back and I actually decided to talk to her (I know, how brave of me). I thought we got on reasonably well. After a couple of phone conversations that lasted over an hour on each occasion, I thought we were getting on quite well, and although we never set a definite date, we did actually agree to meet up (at her suggestion). Then the texts stopped (she didn't reply to mine), and there were no more phone calls. Now, why do people do that? Why bother asking to meet up, then cut all contact? So that was the end of The Specialist.

So that's it, that is the total of my on-line dating experience. What I need to know is, how do you succeed at this on-line dating game? How do you write that killer profile that gets all the lovely ladies hooked? At the moment, I'd settle for the meat-market, but even that doesn't seem forthcoming. I mean, I have needs; I've had extremely enjoyable lady-sex and I need to experience more. Damn it!

* Today I am mostly listening to: Katy Perry – I Kissed A Girl (yeah, I know, it's a cliché) *

So, yeah, I went to see Madonna last week. You know, I just happened to be in Wembley and thought I'd pop in and say hi. But you know that Madonna, always late, never knows the time. She managed to sing a few songs, which I thought was rather kind of her considering her busy schedule and all that, but I could have sworn she dropped her microphone at one point, and magically managed to keep on singing. But that's Madonna for you. Clever in so many ways.

So she came on late, finished late and the tubes stopped running. Two and a half hours later, me and The Mrs (ex, obviously) finally managed to get a taxi back to central London. £40 later and we made it back to our hotel. And you know what, we still didn't have any sex, even after all that pumping and grinding from Madonna.

* Today I am mostly listening to: Kings Of Leon - Sex On Fire *

It's always a bit of a shock when you see a flaming red bush when you least expect it...

I was at the gym earlier today getting myself all hot and sweaty. I finished my work out, went into the empty changing rooms, and chose a bench near the showers with my back to the door. I was just getting undressed when some one else came in and positioned themselves on the other side of the bench to me. Now that annoyed me. Why in an empty room, do people choose to position themselves right in front of some one else? I just don't get it.

But anyway, I digress. I came out of the shower with the towel wrapped nice and tightly round my cuddly waist, went and sat in front of the mirror and put some moisturiser on. The other girl came out of the shower minus her towel (why do people do that?), and let me just say before you ask, I definitely wasn't looking. I may bat for the pink team, but I'm most certainly not that sort of person. But you just couldn't help but see the huge flaming red bush between her legs! I mean, I was happily sorting my face out, and there it was, bright red and hitting me in the face! And that was only the reflection in the mirror! I dread to think what it was like face on!

I think what surprised me, was that some one with a great figure like she had, would not have a neatly trimmed lady garden! She hadn't been hit around the head with the ugly stick, and she clearly worked out a lot, yet there was this huge red garden waving at me. Now, I may be (slightly) fat, but I know where it's at, and I'm pleased to say that I've never let my lady garden become unruly, overgrown and definitely not let it wave at people in the mirror. *Shudder* Time for a stiff drink I think.