#telling women to date men isnt going to fix these types of issues

[pineapplesagainstpizza]

There is a conversation to be had about the "male loneliness epidemic" but people have turned it into a way to blame women instead of talking about solutions

[adambstingus]

I’m on a slightly dull date and he’s texting. What if it’s his wife?

In the pub with Edward on their second date, Stella Grey finds the chat isnt exactly flowing and her conversation has deserted her

The old alehouse that Edward invited me to, for our second date, in a quiet nook in an unfashionable part of town, had a random assortment of drinkers, mostly men. Probably he chose it because he thought itd be quiet and wed get a table (or and I cant help having these thoughts he wasnt known there and his wife wouldnt see us), but it was packed and we had to stand at the bar. He looked uncomfortable about this, glancing around the room as if it were something he felt he ought to fix.

Finally, people left and we swooped. It was a small brass table with geezers talking about football on one side and two women discussing their divorce travails on the other (oh joy). The stool was uncomfortable and the light glaring.

I had an attack of paralysing second date nerves and couldnt think what to say (partly, of course, because I was unsure what this was). He too seemed to be edgy and out of sorts.

We had one of those dull chats that people have when they are too tired to socialise and would rather be at home with cocoa and Netflix. We talked about our days, our weeks, even the weather. He told me a long and, Im afraid to say, slightly tedious story about a work problem and how it got solved. My eyes glazed over and his nervous reaction was to provide even more detail about how the work issue got solved.

The question is, why did he invite me if he didnt want to see me again, and why was he so ill at ease? After all, the man had been brisk, monosyllabic, absent, since we last met. He had my email address and hadnt used it. He had my number and hadnt called. (Not that the businesslike So can we have sex on Friday? text that a friend received after a first date would have been preferable, but still ) It wasnt even that it went badly. We both tried.

There were no awkward silences. But, honestly, if there doesnt seem to be a natural flow to the chat on the third beer on a second date, there might be something amiss. I went to the bathroom and gave myself a pep talk. Was it me? My eye makeup was uneven and had descended at the sides, and my lipstick had greased off, leaving only an outer line of red. Why had my conversation deserted me? Cinema, books, TV, nature, human nature, politics, I said to my reflection, reminding myself there were topics I could instigate. A woman came out of a cubicle and smiled knowingly.

On the street, Edward and I waited at the same bus stop he lives on my route but further along the route. I wrapped my wide scarf so that it covered my mouth (no points, Mr Freud), buried my hands deep in the pockets of my coat and looked doggedly in the direction in which double-decker rescue would come. Edward got his phone out and texted, and I couldnt help wondering if he was telling his wife that he was on the way home.

I didnt used to be like this; a lack of trust has been online datings gift. We had to stand on the bus and were separated by a pair of giggling girls who got on after us and settled in the space before we could close it.

Well, bye then, I said, as I got off at my stop. I thought, look at him hes so tall, so striking looking. He has soulful eyes. I felt attraction for the first time. Bye, he said, raising his hand as the bus rumbled away.

I got my phone out. Perhaps he was texting a romantic gesture, saying something his mouth couldnt say. Well, that was a weird evening. We both seemed tired, off our game, but should we go to the cinema or something next week? But there was no message.

Perhaps I wont hear from him again. Or perhaps this is all happening in extreme slow motion and I will, but not for a while. At the risk of ending with a Carrie Bradshaw-type question: is he behaving in a strange fashion for a man who is uninterested or is a drink every two weeks with no communication in between his equally strange way of courting a woman?

Stella Grey is a pseudonym

@GreyStellaGrey

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/im-on-a-slightly-dull-date-and-hes-texting-what-if-its-his-wife/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182835715657

[samanthasroberts]

I’m on a slightly dull date and he’s texting. What if it’s his wife?

In the pub with Edward on their second date, Stella Grey finds the chat isnt exactly flowing and her conversation has deserted her

The old alehouse that Edward invited me to, for our second date, in a quiet nook in an unfashionable part of town, had a random assortment of drinkers, mostly men. Probably he chose it because he thought itd be quiet and wed get a table (or and I cant help having these thoughts he wasnt known there and his wife wouldnt see us), but it was packed and we had to stand at the bar. He looked uncomfortable about this, glancing around the room as if it were something he felt he ought to fix.

Finally, people left and we swooped. It was a small brass table with geezers talking about football on one side and two women discussing their divorce travails on the other (oh joy). The stool was uncomfortable and the light glaring.

I had an attack of paralysing second date nerves and couldnt think what to say (partly, of course, because I was unsure what this was). He too seemed to be edgy and out of sorts.

We had one of those dull chats that people have when they are too tired to socialise and would rather be at home with cocoa and Netflix. We talked about our days, our weeks, even the weather. He told me a long and, Im afraid to say, slightly tedious story about a work problem and how it got solved. My eyes glazed over and his nervous reaction was to provide even more detail about how the work issue got solved.

The question is, why did he invite me if he didnt want to see me again, and why was he so ill at ease? After all, the man had been brisk, monosyllabic, absent, since we last met. He had my email address and hadnt used it. He had my number and hadnt called. (Not that the businesslike So can we have sex on Friday? text that a friend received after a first date would have been preferable, but still ) It wasnt even that it went badly. We both tried.

There were no awkward silences. But, honestly, if there doesnt seem to be a natural flow to the chat on the third beer on a second date, there might be something amiss. I went to the bathroom and gave myself a pep talk. Was it me? My eye makeup was uneven and had descended at the sides, and my lipstick had greased off, leaving only an outer line of red. Why had my conversation deserted me? Cinema, books, TV, nature, human nature, politics, I said to my reflection, reminding myself there were topics I could instigate. A woman came out of a cubicle and smiled knowingly.

On the street, Edward and I waited at the same bus stop he lives on my route but further along the route. I wrapped my wide scarf so that it covered my mouth (no points, Mr Freud), buried my hands deep in the pockets of my coat and looked doggedly in the direction in which double-decker rescue would come. Edward got his phone out and texted, and I couldnt help wondering if he was telling his wife that he was on the way home.

I didnt used to be like this; a lack of trust has been online datings gift. We had to stand on the bus and were separated by a pair of giggling girls who got on after us and settled in the space before we could close it.

Well, bye then, I said, as I got off at my stop. I thought, look at him hes so tall, so striking looking. He has soulful eyes. I felt attraction for the first time. Bye, he said, raising his hand as the bus rumbled away.

I got my phone out. Perhaps he was texting a romantic gesture, saying something his mouth couldnt say. Well, that was a weird evening. We both seemed tired, off our game, but should we go to the cinema or something next week? But there was no message.

Perhaps I wont hear from him again. Or perhaps this is all happening in extreme slow motion and I will, but not for a while. At the risk of ending with a Carrie Bradshaw-type question: is he behaving in a strange fashion for a man who is uninterested or is a drink every two weeks with no communication in between his equally strange way of courting a woman?

Stella Grey is a pseudonym

@GreyStellaGrey

Source: http://allofbeer.com/im-on-a-slightly-dull-date-and-hes-texting-what-if-its-his-wife/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/02/16/im-on-a-slightly-dull-date-and-hes-texting-what-if-its-his-wife/

[allofbeercom]

I’m on a slightly dull date and he’s texting. What if it’s his wife?

In the pub with Edward on their second date, Stella Grey finds the chat isnt exactly flowing and her conversation has deserted her

The old alehouse that Edward invited me to, for our second date, in a quiet nook in an unfashionable part of town, had a random assortment of drinkers, mostly men. Probably he chose it because he thought itd be quiet and wed get a table (or and I cant help having these thoughts he wasnt known there and his wife wouldnt see us), but it was packed and we had to stand at the bar. He looked uncomfortable about this, glancing around the room as if it were something he felt he ought to fix.

Finally, people left and we swooped. It was a small brass table with geezers talking about football on one side and two women discussing their divorce travails on the other (oh joy). The stool was uncomfortable and the light glaring.

I had an attack of paralysing second date nerves and couldnt think what to say (partly, of course, because I was unsure what this was). He too seemed to be edgy and out of sorts.

We had one of those dull chats that people have when they are too tired to socialise and would rather be at home with cocoa and Netflix. We talked about our days, our weeks, even the weather. He told me a long and, Im afraid to say, slightly tedious story about a work problem and how it got solved. My eyes glazed over and his nervous reaction was to provide even more detail about how the work issue got solved.

The question is, why did he invite me if he didnt want to see me again, and why was he so ill at ease? After all, the man had been brisk, monosyllabic, absent, since we last met. He had my email address and hadnt used it. He had my number and hadnt called. (Not that the businesslike So can we have sex on Friday? text that a friend received after a first date would have been preferable, but still ) It wasnt even that it went badly. We both tried.

There were no awkward silences. But, honestly, if there doesnt seem to be a natural flow to the chat on the third beer on a second date, there might be something amiss. I went to the bathroom and gave myself a pep talk. Was it me? My eye makeup was uneven and had descended at the sides, and my lipstick had greased off, leaving only an outer line of red. Why had my conversation deserted me? Cinema, books, TV, nature, human nature, politics, I said to my reflection, reminding myself there were topics I could instigate. A woman came out of a cubicle and smiled knowingly.

On the street, Edward and I waited at the same bus stop he lives on my route but further along the route. I wrapped my wide scarf so that it covered my mouth (no points, Mr Freud), buried my hands deep in the pockets of my coat and looked doggedly in the direction in which double-decker rescue would come. Edward got his phone out and texted, and I couldnt help wondering if he was telling his wife that he was on the way home.

I didnt used to be like this; a lack of trust has been online datings gift. We had to stand on the bus and were separated by a pair of giggling girls who got on after us and settled in the space before we could close it.

Well, bye then, I said, as I got off at my stop. I thought, look at him hes so tall, so striking looking. He has soulful eyes. I felt attraction for the first time. Bye, he said, raising his hand as the bus rumbled away.

I got my phone out. Perhaps he was texting a romantic gesture, saying something his mouth couldnt say. Well, that was a weird evening. We both seemed tired, off our game, but should we go to the cinema or something next week? But there was no message.

Perhaps I wont hear from him again. Or perhaps this is all happening in extreme slow motion and I will, but not for a while. At the risk of ending with a Carrie Bradshaw-type question: is he behaving in a strange fashion for a man who is uninterested or is a drink every two weeks with no communication in between his equally strange way of courting a woman?

Stella Grey is a pseudonym

@GreyStellaGrey

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/im-on-a-slightly-dull-date-and-hes-texting-what-if-its-his-wife/