These are my personal tales of love, life and sex. Love Chronicles is now an award winning column. It captured the Gold (1st) prize for Creative Journalism in the National Arts Awards 2006 in St. Lucia!
I swore that I would never take any man I met at a club as serious partner material. I didn’t always think that way but learnt pretty quickly that a man who can dance does not equal a man I can date. Clubs are really one of the worst places to meet guys who you want a future with because many times they (the guys) are just looking for a woman to shag for the night. I have gotten many “Hey beautiful, you want to come home with me tonight.” In a dark nightclub, your judgement is also clouded with one too many cosmopolitans or mojitos and the low lighting makes everyone look like Romeo.
Now getting older and with many more clubs in London to scope out, I have decided to give nightclubs another chance at serving up some interesting hotties. Maybe if I am completely open and give all of the men who come up to me a second look, then maybe, just maybe, my dry spell would end.
It’s was a Wednesday night; I put on my sexiest black dress with boots and headed over to an A-list club on Air Street in London’s Soho area. Walked in and took time to scan the vicinity. Lots of possibilities there. Ten minutes on the dance floor and guy number one came over to me. He was a terrible dancer and kept on missing the beat but I remained open to all possibilities. After a few minutes of smiling at each other and moving to the house music, he introduced himself. Peter was 29, in the banking industry, had a pet dog named Archie and loved the Caribbean. Tick, tick, tick. He looked very attractive under the disco lights and the flirty dancing continued. Three hours into the night and things were still going well. Maybe this meeting at the club thing could work out after all. “So you coming home with me tonight, right,” Peter said. Where did that come from? I was on the hunt for a meaningful relationship, not a one night stand so I politely declined his offer. He gave me his number before he left the club, “just in case you change your mind.”
Next up, a very crowded club near Oxford Street. I headed to the bottom level dance floor and squeezed through the crowd to get a drink at the bar. On my way there, a guy bumped into me. “Sorry about that,” he said, smiling with a lingering stare. With a vodka cranberry in hand, I was making my way over to my friends, when, the same guy bumped into me. “Sorry again,” he said laughing. Half an hour later, while dancing to a hot tune from Justin Timberlake and 50 Cent, he slid right next to me and started dancing. “Sorry about that earlier. I just wanted to say hi to you,” he said with a hint of a French accent. Pierre was studying in London, from France and was a fantastic dancer. There was only one thing; he was 21. Having just turned 27, I am trying to avoid dating guys younger than me. Tried it before and it just does not work out. Alas, Pierre was great company on the dance floor for the night, but his cheesy and immature chat up lines just did not do it for me.
Now I remember why I crossed out nightclubs as a place to meet guys. As I write this a new British television dating show is on. The premise is that friends and family search for the perfect partner for you and ensure that they get you a perfect match. I think this will be my next move. Let me now send out a mass email to everyone I know. Subject: Do You Know The Perfect Man For Me?