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  • UK Dating - A Booze-Free Date in a Museum - What Could Possibly Go Right?
    thumb  - Members - Eurodatefinder Online Dating
    It is always important to answer questions honestly. Well, as honestly as you possibly can. So when Mark, a civil servant from Kent, asks me “Do you like looking round old houses?” I should’ve at least replied “Not sure, depends” instead of an over-enthusiastic “Yes! I love that kind of thing”. But he’s so hot and charming (over email, at least) I reckon I can skip the usual first meeting in a pub for something cultural. In a rare show of confidence in this guy, I am sacrificing the holiest time of the week - Saturday afternoon. I usually spend them wondering if I’m already too old for Topman (probably) and queuing up for coffee (which will have my name misspelled on the side of it). We’re meeting at an opulent house that’s been converted into a museum of, well, nothing in particular. It’s a collection of old curiosities. As I approach, I can almost smell the dust, the culture, the history, seeping out from its windows. It doesn’t really look like it has a bar, which makes me nervous. - ADVERTISEMENT - Alcohol isn’t always a must on a date, but it helps. Not only can inebriation aid attraction and conversation or soothe disappointment, it is also handy to have something to sip during awkward silences. Will I really be able to fall in love without a glass of beer in my hand? Mark is there already, nice and early - his bright blue eyes shining. He looks freshly laundered and optimistic. He has beautiful hair and one of his shoes is shinier than the other. I break into a grin. We shake hands and exchange hellos. He looks pleased with what he sees. That feeling never gets old. Not ever. We step into the building, which smells like long-unopened boxes of letters and dusty old cupboards, and approach a desk staffed by Methuselah’s much older brother. “I’ll pay,” Mark says. “It was my idea to come.” I’m impressed by his gallantry, but Destiny’s Child taught me well. “No, it’s OK. I’ll pay for myself.” He touches my hand. “No, please, let me.” Those eyes. “OK.” We begin walking around the house. It’s very beautiful and quiet. So quiet. Quiet is good if you’re at a relaxation spa, not a first date. I try to ignore my nagging doubts about how this is going to go, but they’re the loudest thing in the room. After three or four rooms filled with paintings and dark furniture, I’m flagging. I plough on gamely by his side while he silently peruses the dog-eared information cards next to each artefact. Everything is behind glass or roped off so you can’t touch it - and that includes my date. After another couple of rooms, we trudge up a huge polished staircase and when I reach the top I forget myself, giving a huge yawn. Mark looks at me worriedly. “Are you bored?” he whispers. “Isn’t this the kind of thing you enjoy doing?” “No, I’m not bored, honestly.” A small lie. “I thought we’d be talking more,” he admits, his face downcast. “Oh. Erm. I just thought you were busy reading,” I reply awkwardly. He brushes his fringe out of his eyes. “I suppose I thought it would be a ‘different’ thing to do,” he sighs. “But I think I’d rather be in the pub. Shall we?” I smile with relief. My hero. “Yes, let’s. It’ll be good to get to know you better.” He beams. “You’re right. We should be looking at each other, not a load of pictures.” Boom. And so my newfound work of art puts his hand round my shoulder and we leave behind the antiques and exhibits to get started on a history all of our own. Stats: 29, 5’9”, blond/blue, Kent Pre-date rating: 7/10 Post-date rating: 8.5/10 Date in one sentence: I pretend I can get through a first date without going to the pub - and my date proves I can’t. Source - http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/news/funny-dating-stories/
  • Dating UK - A Hopeful Date With the Architect Who Had All the Right Moves
    thumb  - Members - Eurodatefinder Online Dating
    Dating can be a very solitary experience, despite the fact that you’re meeting up with another person. Travelling to the date you are alone in your thoughts, every possible scenario whirring around in your head, and nine times out of ten, you end up going home by yourself - okay, maybe eight. So it’s good to have someone else aboard at least part of the way. The best place for a wingman is the selection process itself. A second opinion can be invaluable. And so I find myself flicking through a list of potential suitors with a friend, presenting her with all the men who have recently added me as a ‘favourite’ on the dating site. So far, her responses are less than encouraging. She is less forgiving than even me. “Oh no, he’s spelled you’re as your; I’m out, sorry.” After a few minutes, however, she settles on a contender. After carefully reading his profile for what seems like hours, she spins the laptop round to face me and gives an encouraging flourish with her hands. “Look at this one.” I look. To say everything is in the right place would be an understatement. He looks sexy, suave, smart, sophisticated and lots of other s-words. He is the perfect picture of alliteration and hotness. - ADVERTISEMENT - Yet one must venture out of shallow waters for a more satisfying swim. He may look the part but be as dumb as a packet of chewing gum. Time, then, for a little further study. I read his profile, which is clever, witty and just what I’m looking for. He’s studying to be an architect. And he likes me, let’s not forget. “Oh, and if you peruse picture three,” my friend pipes up, “you can see the outline of his ‘thing’ through his trousers. It looks quite nice.” Reader, she’s right. And so I break every rule I have ever made yet again and initiate contact. She made me do it. My opener is straightforward, with a hint of humour that will hopefully intrigue. I don’t agonise over it very long. Over thinking never got anyone anywhere. Send is clicked. Here we go. He replies the next day. To say he is not a native speaker, his command of the English lingo is impressive and he’s using just enough colloquialisms to let me know he’s lived here a while. They say the best place to learn a foreign tongue is in bed; I can’t help but wonder how many enthusiastic language professors have graced his duvet-walled classroom. But we’re overthinking again, and instead of that, I decide to barely pause for thought at all. Before my internet connection can quite believe what is happening, I am very directly asking him out for a drink, foregoing my usual “when’s good for you?” patter; I have named a day. I send the message and then wander over to the other side of the room and pretend I’m not really bothered by how quickly he replies. He makes me wait a whole ten minutes. I walk to our meeting place as calmly as I can manage: it’s a warm evening and I don’t want to arrive with the tell-tale sweat beads on my forehead and in the dip of my chest that will give away a faster gait. I am meeting him in a pub I often select as the initial rendezvous point; it doesn’t have a gay clientele but is near enough other places which do. One must always plan ahead: I don’t want to be caught out and eager to bump tongues only for the crowd around us to strongly object. So slow was my meandering that I am arriving a few minutes late. I breezily throw open the pub door, almost relieving a skinny girl of her red wine in the process, and make my way to the bar, not looking around to see if he’s there already. I know that he’ll have been watching the door, even if he’s pretending not to. Sure enough, within a few seconds, someone who smells very good is standing by my side. I wait to hear my name, and when I do, turn round to see two huge brown eyes staring uncertainly into my blue ones. He introduces himself, each syllable of his name pronounced with utmost care; he wants me to remember that name. I will. He’s dressed fairly simply: a black shirt over dark jeans and a pair of boots. He’s drinking spirits. Smells like whisky. And by the way he’s licking his lips and smiling, he’s had more than one. But so what? It’s Friday night and I’m a little bit late. I’m sure I’ll soon catch up. Going on a date with someone who’s not from the UK can be easier when it comes to conversation. While there may be less common ground, there are enough differences to turn it in a fun fact-finding mission. Having never been to Syria, I ask him about his country. He’s eager to dispel any myths I may have heard. He’s fairly protective of his homeland, but realistic when it comes to its faults. I can tell he has had to defend his birthplace before - parts of his speech feel well-rehearsed and few of my questions surprise him. “I’m tired of everyone thinking Damascus is a dustbowl,” he says, and knocks back whisky number four. “Let’s go somewhere else,” I whisper. The time feels right to find the corner of a room somewhere. As we walk down the street toward my intended destination, he is distracted by noise coming from a pub. It’s karaoke. “I always find this so hilarious,” he beams. I cringe, stammering: “I don’t sing.” He puts his arm round my shoulder. “Neither do I. I wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He winks. I melt a little. On entering the pub, it transpires a documentary is being filmed. There are a few B-list stars at the bar, drinking heavily, while a soap actress is serving pints. It all feels a little surreal, but my date doesn’t recognise them and is unperturbed by the cameras. He switches to pints and motions me to a quieter part of the bar, which unfortunately is next to the dartboard. He is genuinely bemused by the roughness of this East End boozer. He can’t take his eyes off me and while I’m enjoying the attention, I can’t fully relax until we’re somewhere else. We are, however, having so much fun that we stay for another drink, doubled up in laughter at the atrocious singing and underage drinkers being sick into carrier bags. Finally, I suggest moving on. I mean to have my own way, eventually; it may as well be now. At the next bar, he seems a little more out of his depth. I had forgotten it is Friday, and the place is bouncing with excitable gays, dancing up against each other and spilling drinks as far as the eye can see. The atmosphere isn’t as jolly as before, and the fun feels forced. I also notice that he may have had a little too much to drink. He sways into me and grabs my arse bawdily. I respond. When we pull apart he exaggeratedly wipes the saliva from his mouth and takes another swig of his drink - he’s back on whisky. We kiss again, and then again a few moments later. The air feels thick with anticipation and you could barely get a thread of cotton between us, but I get the feeling we’ve gone as far as we’re going to go this evening. I pull away from him and straighten myself up. He leans on the bar and looks me up and down lustfully. “I’m drunk,” he says flatly. “I should go home.” I nod, disappointed but not devastated. “But I am having fun,” he continues. Another deep swig. “You wanna come with me?” I think just a second too long. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Just to leave the pub hand-in-hand, fall into a taxi and no doubt demolish each other right there in the back seat, before ending up somewhere and either continuing or collapsing unconscious in a cloud of whisky fumes and desire. But I have crept out of unfamiliar bedrooms and made my way bleary-eyed to far-off tube stations before, and it’s not how I want my Saturday to start. So I shake my head. He laughs. “Okay. But can we do this again?” “Yes, all of it,” I reply. “Except the karaoke.” “And after that?” “We’ll just have to see,” I smile, rolling my eyes. “You’ll keep.” I watch his taxi pull away for a second or two and then make my way to the bus stop. I dig my nails into my palm and inwardly curse my ridiculous moment of self-control, but I know I’ll be glad about it in the morning. As I find my seat on the bus - as far away as I can manage from the boys eating fried chicken - a text message comes through. It is my date. “I won’t keep that long, you know. Best before date is next Saturday night. See you then?” I lean back in my seat and smile for at least three quarters of the journey home. Guy no: 22 Stats: 34, 5’8”, brown/brown, Syria Where: East London When: September 2010 Pre-date rating: 8/10 Post-date rating: 8.5/10 Date in one sentence: In a rare moment of clarity, I hold out for the potential and forego one hell of a roll in the hay Source - http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/news/funny-dating-stories/
  • Dating - The language of love
    thumb 1 S5 - Members - Eurodatefinder Online Dating
    Julie Herniak shares her online dating success story that sounds more like a delightful rom-com than real life. Herniak, with a wedding date set for May 2015, sets the scene, "A Polish Canadian living in Spain met a Frenchman living in La Reunion. We met on the internet, and we started emailing each other. He knew little English, and all I knew in French was 'Bonjour' and 'Je suis Julia.'" She continues, "We started writing every day, and then finally the day came for a Skype call. He came online, and he was super cute with a heavy French accent and started to speak English. I would pre-write my French sentences and struggle with accenting the words correctly. Sometimes I would have Google Translate do the talking for me." "Now it has been three months, and he is finally coming to Spain. I am now providing audio recordings of my voice saying all the irregular English verbs in the past, past continuous and future conjugations. He is listening to the audio files and learning English at the same time. What I have learned from our dating experience is that a lot of patience, humor and laughter are required to keep the flames strong in online dating. Also, the occasional sexy dance sent by Skype keeps the passion strong. Despite the long distances, the poor Skype connections and the language barriers, I have found the one for me." Source Article - http://www.sheknows.com/love-and-sex/articles/1080344/adorable-online-dating-success-stories
  • Online Dating - Looks can be deceiving
    thumb 2 S3 - Members - Eurodatefinder Online Dating
    As an insider in the online dating world, working to develop the customer service division of the popular online dating site SugarDaddie.com, Noah Van Hochman has seen it all. Van Hochman, author of Dude! What Were You Thinking? A Common Sense Guide to Dating & Relationships, recounts an unexpected matchup that led to true love, "We had a member a short while ago that we thought was a serial dater — the number of online messages he sent out was staggering, and his photos were of him in a beautiful Ferrari. The editorial staff placed him on our monitor list as a potential spammer just to be safe." "About a month later, we noticed a significant drop in his outgoing email, followed by exclusive emails to one particular member and then a request to remove his account. Several months went by when we received a call from the young woman he was corresponding with asking us to remove her as well. It turned out that they had begun dating, but she was looking for more of a family and thought he, due to his lifestyle, was too much of a player. (Remember, we are a Sugar Daddy dating site!) According to the woman, he showed up one day in an SUV with a puppy and a small section of white picket fence and had sold the Ferrari. This, all in an attempt to show she meant more than anything else he had. We received an invitation to their wedding." Source - http://www.sheknows.com/love-and-sex/articles/1080344/adorable-online-dating-success-stories
  • Dating Story - Last chance at love
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    Lindsley Lowell, author of My Knight in Shining Armor is Coming...He's Just Stuck in Traffic, explains, "I online dated on and off for about five years. Yes, five years. I had so many train wreck dates and a lot of weirdos, whack jobs, losers and players contacting me that I started to record them all and eventually wrote a book about my dating life. I also had some success — three boyfriends from online dating, but none were the one. On my fortieth birthday, I was talking to my dad on the phone, lamenting about my single status and whining that I would probably be alone for the rest of my life. My father suggested I go back online, to which I said, 'Are you crazy?'" "But I got off the phone and thought about it and decided to go back online for one more month. Then I would close the book on online dating forever. Two weeks into my month, I met someone. Our first phone conversation was two hours long! I broke my rule of no meals on a first online date and made dinner plans. I figured even if there is no chemistry, I know I can talk to this guy. The first date was instant fireworks for both of us. Jonathan had a second date the next night with a girl from online, and he cancelled it, telling her, 'I met someone!' After our first date, he knew. I knew. We were engaged six months later and married five months after that." Source - http://www.sheknows.com/love-and-sex/articles/1080344/adorable-online-dating-success-stories
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