As good as it gets?

I’m feeling very sorry for myself. You know when you have one of those periods when nothing seems to go right? Well I’m definitely wallowing in one of those.

Problems at work and my gambling losses are beyond the remit of this blog. But the state of my love is the major catalyst (compounded by my ex-girlfriend having met someone else).

In an effort to cheer me up, my best mate took me through all the positives in my life. And there are plenty, as I have detailed in a previous posting (see 20/10). He then said that I have had a 'good year' on the woman front. Suppressing my laughter, I took him through the past 11 months.

February: had dates with two women I met on Dating Direct. Neither wanted to see me again.

March: met ‘the doctor’ (see 23/9) on a weekend in Yorkshire. There was a real connection – and she was single. So I asked her out. She said no.

March: went on a date with a woman I met through a friend. She didn’t want to see me again.

March-June: was seeing my ex-girlfriend (who only agreed to go out with me after several months of pleading).

July: was best man at a wedding, where I gave a speech that was very well received. A woman I have met before came on to me as strongly as anyone ever has. She gave me a kiss and told me not to go anywhere. She never came back. At the end of the evening, I asked a very single older woman for a kiss. She declined.

August: met Gemma in Costa Rica. Got on better with her than any woman I have met since I was 23. We talked non-stop for eight hours. I emailed her a couple of times when I got home. She sent me one dull reply. When I told her how I felt about her, she ignored me.

September: went out with the doctor. Had a great evening. Asked her out again. She said no.

October: emailed five women on Dating Direct. Received no replies.

I suppose I am, for literary effect, being slightly economical with the truth. I didn’t want to see any of the three women I went on dates with in February and March again. Two of them were nightmares. One refused to take her coat and scarf off, then said she wasn’t over her last ‘boyfriend’; they had been together for three weeks. The other was carrying a bag of grapes, ordered the only drink on the cocktails menu that was not part of the happy hour deal and the only thing she had any passion for her was her job (and she was a recruitment consultant). But it would have been a bit of an ego boost if somebody had developed unreciprocated feelings for me, for the first time in my life.

If that’s a ‘good year’, I don’t know whether I will survive a bad one.