Men are... just plain confusing

Despite saying I wouldn't mention Mr Not-Quite-So-Perfect-But'll-Do-For-Now, I will anyway. There have been certain ups and downs since I last wrote.

Major up: 5 hours at his house Sunday night while his housemates were out on the town. I left at 1.30am feeling like a very happy bunny indeedio.

Ok, so the highlight of the evening came four hours after I arrived, and after I'd spent three and a half hours sat across the room from him on a different sofa. Now that's dedication. But after much tickling - you wouldn't believe that a man would be curled up whimpering like a toddler at a bit of tickling, but clearly he's a wuss - and beatings with the remote (Accidental, my arse!) there was finally kissing and cuddling :D Woo! Cue one very happy Jelly.

Major down: the text a day or so later. Do you see a pattern emerging? I do. I think what I should learn from this experience is that my phone should stay resolutely in my handbag for an entire 24hrs after any kind of Jelly-man contact. For my own safety, if not for the safety of the entire male population. Ok, so it wasn't a 'lets just be friends' text, which I'm grateful for. It was a 'No of course you didnt outstay your welcome! Im just cautious bout gettin involved in something, it not workin out, and ballsing up the holiday'.
Fair play to him. It's a valid point. So I'm now trying my hardest to play it cool and not text him every second of every day, despite the fact I'd love to.

I swear men are like buses. None for absolutely ages, then three come along at once. Yep, not only is there Mr Perfect (who I'm still completely in love with), Mr Not-So-Perfect, but there's also Mr I-Thought-We-Were-Well-And-Truly-Finished-Months-Ago.

Hmm.. life is strange. But very good :D

Take a bow...

The dance show has finally been and gone, and already I'm missing the shrill screaming of the baby ballet group trying to be first in line for the glitter spray, not to mention Mr Clearly Gay tap dancer trying to steal my eye-shadow.

I've had a fabulous week in rehearsal, spending every waking minute thinking about lighting and costumes. My adult stage debut was hardly a roaring success, but it's passed without major incident (barring one massive stumble in a pirouette on the only night my family were in the audience).

I cannot believe I didn't get into this before. I adored every second of being on stage, knowing that there were 150 people who'd paid to watch me (and the other dance school students) perform. I'm already signed up to continue with ballet for the next term, as well as starting jazz (tomorrow! Can't wait!)

I still have my stage make-up on, so I look like a clown, pretty much, but I'm loath to take it off cos I love the whole effect with my neon dance clothes and leg warmers.

Here's hoping that Scotland has adult dance classes!!

Budge over Bridget, this is Jelly Jones, chronic singleton

And the curse of the chronic singleton has struck again.

Shock horror, I got a text on Thurs afternoon, thanking me for a lovely evening, telling me I was an amazing girl, and then going on to say that Mr Perfect would just like to be friends. Apparently, there was no chemistry. Bastard.

However, when God closes a window, He opens a door. Ok, so I probably shouldn't take religion out of context to make a point about relationships, but Mr Not-Quite-As-Perfect-But-The-Best-Option-I've-Had-In-A-While has appeared in my life.

Yet another friend of a friend. I really should stop relying on my mates to set me up with lads. However, this one, S, actually seems to enjoy my company and wants to meet up again!

So I'm mentioning him no more, in case I curse yet another promising relationship.

Perfection in man form

I had my first ever first-date last night. Don't get me wrong, there have been boyfriends, just no first date.

A is perfection in man form. We were introduced by AH, a mutual friend (who I owe muchos drinks to for setting us up!) and after much texting in the intervening two weeks, we met up last night for what was supposedly a quick drink.

Three hours later, we went home, having had a long chat about... pretty much everything. Families, futures, college, school, uni, friends, sport, music, God, America, the definition of 'modern history'. You name it, it was probably discussed.

Of course, at some point he did inevitably discover that I am certifiably crazy and a complete control freak with major OCD issues. So he spent the next hour or so pushing my drink (which he paid for - gotta love a proper gentleman) around the table, knowing that he was driving me nuts.

But he was so adorably gorgeous, sweet, funny, caring, cute, etc, etc, that I could easily put up with the drink-pushing.

I did manage to say the dumbest, blondest things ever. "Do they have camels in Texas?" I don't know, Jelly, why the hell would there be camels in Texas?! I have no idea what possessed me to say something so blatantly stupid.

My only gripe is that he loves to travel, wants to see the world. I want to stay in the UK, permanently. But I guess that's a difference that we can iron out should we ever need to (not that I imagine it will get to that point, given my history of mucking up relationships).

I have no idea what he thought of the evening, other than AH assured me via text this morning (while I was supposedly hard at work in the office) that she'll get all the goss off him tonight, and his so-far lack of texts post-date is just him being 'a typical man, not wanting to seem too keen'.

Or so I hope...

Nyargh!!!!

I'm typing this at the Hometown library, cos the interweb at home steadfastly refuses to acknowledge my laptop's existence.

I had a long, detailed account of my fabulous first date last night, and then - POOF - 'cannot connect to server'.

I hate government provided public services.