Three dates and a lot of art.

Bless me, dear reader, it has been 8 days since my last update, but things have not been static here at Tinder Towers.

Those of you who follow me on Facebook know that I had a date with a gentleman known as Dave the Scaffold. When Dave popped up on POF last Tuesday he seemed pleasant, and was certainly very attentive. I was feeling a bit down as John the Druid hadn't got back to me to confirm the second date we had arranged immediately after the first one. I know he'd been away at a camp over the weekend, but I was pretty sure he was due to be back on Tuesday. Anyway, Dave asked to go out with me, so I went.

I so should have listened to my gut. But, Buckley Steve had turned out to be an interesting geezer (more on him later!), so I wanted to give Dave the benefit of the doubt. He was certainly no Buckley Steve. Insulting a woman's parking upon first meeting her is not a good opening gambit. I don't think I've ever talked so much for an hour. If I hadn't, I think we would have just sat there in silence staring at other people eating their Wednesday evening supper. I have no idea what I was talking about by the end, I was just opening my mouth and words were coming out. We finished our drinks, and decided it was time to go home. By the time I got back to the house and had made myself comfortable in front of the TV with a cup of tea, which is probably where I should have stayed in the first place, there were three messages from him asking if I'd like to see him again. Obviously I was flattered, but no thank you.

Meanwhile, the conversation with Biker Dog Mike, henceforward to be known as Biker Mike from Mars, coz he so is, has moved on the 'shall we go on a date' stage. He's been calling me every day and seems to be very pleasant and jokey, and is certainly not short of anything to talk about. We arrange to meet on Sunday at Talacre. I'll take Vanessa, coz she always needs a good run out, and we can sit and drink tea and eat cake in the van afterwards. Boy, do I know how to show a gentleman a good time!

While all of this was going on, Ricardo and I absolutely had to go and see an exhibition at the Walker Art Gallery of a collection of Grayson Perry's costumes that we'd suddenly realised was finishing at the end of the week. Thursday was the only day we could do it, as I still wanted to keep Friday free for my date with Druid John. Well, a marvellous time was had. The frocks were incredible, as you may imagine, having been designed by students from Central Saint Martin's. Druid John had miraculously reappeared on Wednesday evening and confirmed for Friday, so I spent a lot of time sitting in corners of galleries trying to arrange tickets to see the show in Bolton I'd been working on. I'm getting a vibe from him though, that he's only going along with this as we arranged it the other week. He's busy in the morning, but we decide that I should drive up to Preston early afternoon and text him when I get there.

Long story short, I got to Preston, John arrived mere minutes later, we met, we went and looked around the Harris museum, where he told me enthusiastically all about Horace the Elk and the timber henge that has been found near Preston. We had tea in a delightful independent tea house, then drove down to Bolton to see 'Jane Eyre', which was very good. I dropped him back a the station, and he dashed off with a hug and a peck on the lips to catch his train. Still getting the vibe that he isn't quite as enthusiastic as he appeared to be before we actually met. Got back in the car and on the road, with three bad omens: the first being 'My Champion', my favourite Alter Bridge song, coming up first on shuffle :

'Sometimes you fall before you rise
Sometimes you lose it all to find
You've gotta keep fighting
And get back up again'

Yep, I know Myles is singing just for me. 

Then there was a very dead black and white puss cat on the A666 pulling out of Bolton, and then they decided to close the anti-clockwise M60 so I had to follow diversions all the way through Salford to get back to the M62/M6/M56 and home, with my normally very calm satnav getting increasingly shirty as I kept ignoring all his directions to turn around where possible. A long day for not very much, but I saw some good art and a good play, and it all makes for good blog material so whatever.

All that being said, during the interval I check my phone, and who should have sent me a message but Scooterboy Tony from Runcorn! Very apologetic and quite understanding if I tell him to 'do one', but of course I don't, coz I know he's got a life, and I'm quite thrilled that he thought I was worth chasing up. 

Another face that has seemingly re-emerged is an interesting chap with the most gorgeous dog that I spotted on Tinder last weekend. I 'liked' him, and we matched, so on Ricardo's suggestion I sent him the following message:

I think my dog fancies your dog!

A couple of hours later I get the following:

Haha! Tinder for dogs! Genius! I've shown him a picture. I think it's mutual. We may have a problem! 

We chat about dogs for a few hours, (his dog, Lennon, is a long-haired German Shepherd, and really is incredibly handsome), then he disappears, until suddenly on Saturday he messages me again apologising that he had replied to me but the message never got sent. We chat for the rest of the night. He's called Paul, is 60, he's a guitarist, knew straight away who Malon was named after, loves fantasy literature including my favourite Joe Abercrombie, the Black Crowes,  and lives right on my favourite camping spot on Anglesey, Lligwy Beach! The downside is he's come out of a very long term relationship and is not sure what he's looking for right now, so I'm going to proceed very carefully here, so as to not scare him off.

But enough about this, you want to hear about Sunday with Biker Mike from Mars. Reader, it was lovely. Talacre was a bit fucked up, as they'd closed the beach car park due to muddy going, or high tide, one or the other, so I had to park on a side street and hope to not get a ticket, coz all the car parks have height restriction barriers. You never notice these until you start driving a vehicle that's 2.8 metres tall! The tide was in, which I have never seen at Talacre before, so there wasn't much beach to walk on, but we still managed to stay out there for over an hour, chatting away, laughing, throwing things for the dogs, who had sorted out who was Top Dog by the end of the walk. I'm not sure if it was my Malon, or his Mae, but they seemed happy enough. We brewed up in the van and ate cake and chatted loads more. He's nice, in a gruff Northern, slightly unreconstructed way. Very fond of the old banter, which he admits has got him into trouble in the past. This could get tiresome. He's not bad looking: got a sort of Paul Hollywood vibe going on, if you like that sort of thing. We part with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and a promise to talk later when we both get back home. I could stand to spend time with him again and maybe see how things develop. No fluttering hearts and choirs of angels though. I think I could get bored with the constant banter, and he might be a bit too unreconstructed for my taste, but he does have a cheeky sparkle in his eye that may yet win me over. Lots of nice ink too. Plus I need to add a ride on his Yammy XJR 1300 (it's bigger than my car!!) and in his Porsche 911 Carrera to my list of motorised experiences, although it will have to be pretty damn special to beat a Triumph Sprint 1100 and a Tesla!

But anyway, as soon as I get home and my phone clicks back into 'not driving' mode, there is a text waiting for me from Buckley Steve! Interesting. We chat for a bit, then drift off. I'd like to get together with him again. He was good company. 

So, there we are, almost up to date. Just one extra to add: CD John from Milton Keynes, who messaged me on POF back in the first week, works as a make-up artist for the BBC, is stunningly beautiful, cross-dresses as a political statement and wants me to collaborate on an outfit with him! Fun times, reader, fun times.