The Email Diaries: Londoners 2005. PART I: Jack@hotmale.com. By Bee Hahne-Enevoldsen

Sometimes I think a man about town like me should be doing something else. Like practice law or be a doctor. I am an analytical man, you know. I think a lot, and sometimes going out to clubs, all the time pulling birds and drinking champagne, can be a bit of a drag. I now see what is going on, you know, I can analyse people like they are open books, no one is a blank canvas to me. I can read people very well. Last week I hooked up with this crazy chick you know, she was nothing fucking special, just a very plain old Jane, I don't know why I fucking bothered. I thought I would try something different and got the feeling she would be fun. What a fucking disaster. I will tell you all about it in a minute, just need to finish my intro first.

Anyway, as I was telling Plain Jane last week, every time I go to a club something like two-hundred girls come up to me, I mean seriously they are coming on to me, telling me how hot I am and panting all over me, stuffing my pockets with their numbers, you know. A real hassle sometimes, and I cannot always remember who they are when they call me. I get a lot of phone calls on my mobile. Well, my mobile number is on my signature on my email but still, people want to go to clubs you see, and they want to feel special, “be on the guest list”, go to the “VIP room”. I arrange this for the “cool set” in town. This is just part of my business, I also arrange parties and God knows what - everything to do with events you see. I arrange events in London, mainly in Kensington, Chelsea and the Mayfair area. That's where the money is at, you see. And I am into cashing in the mula.

I get torn you know, sometimes when I am in a club, celebrity hang outs in Mayfair, I am sitting down with so-and-so and sipping pink champers and having had a few lines suddenly I see very clearly what it is all about, it's a fucking meat market out there, men showing off their wealth, and girls selling themselves with sex to get in on the action. Everybody wants some. It's madness. Then I think maybe I should use my degree instead of this. Get into the whole City game or something, have a family, do a normal job, but somehow I never get very far with this, I simply have too much to do, I am too fucking busy to change my life, ironic isn't it? - And yes you can get addicted to it. I am used to a very high standard of birds, man. You know, I meet girls in clubs every night of the week, all sexed up and in their clubbing gear, I have become a bit pampered like that, and you sort of become a bit allergic to day-light women, if you know what I mean. They just seem a hell of a lot of hard work, not so much sex and never as good looking. I really want to get married one day you know, maybe I am just not ready yet, and maybe I just cannot take women that seriously anymore. I don't know. I had high hopes for Plain Jane, you know. She had seemed a bit different. Confident for a daylight person and pretty sassy. But she was just not what I expected her to be. Fucking women, man, I will never understand them.

I even told Plain Jane about my theory that London is the new Rome. You know Rome and Athens in Antiquity man; they were the places to be. You know where culture flourished and thinkers got together. Yeah, those were the times. London is the place to be now. It is the centre of the fucking universe; this is where it is all at nowadays in the new millennium. Plain Jane just laughed at this notion. I thought the girl probably needs a bit more enlightenment so I also told her about what I think about the EU and immigrants, and coloured people. She came out with all these fucking square and PC views like, well she didn't actually, she just said "so you are a racist as well as a historian, interesting…" in that patronising tone people use when they don't agree with you, the pretentious cow. I fucking hate that in women. They want to control your mind, they want to control your cock and everything you fucking do. Anyway, so we are on this date PJ and me. She turns up late yeah; I am already sitting there in the pub waiting for her like some kind of idiot when she finally arrives. First let me just tell you a little about how I came to meet someone like her. I mean not a likely couple in a hundred years, and not someone I would usually go for, as she was just too ordinary for me to look at twice in the street you know. PJ and I crossed paths a couple of years ago, she had my email address from a friend and asked me to put her on some guest list, and this is how I know her. We used to have a bit of slapstick going back and forth over the email. I liked her you know: chirpy and clued up. I mean that is how she came across to me. How deceiving things can be. Anyway, so after me putting her on guest list and us not knowing what the other one looked like for around two years, we started arranging to meet up at events, but never did, as we didn't know what each other looked like, as I fucking said before - how mad is that? Ha ha, one day I asked her for a photo and vice versa and it started to feel a bit like internet dating - not that I have tried it - but you know. And we finally met in a club one Saturday night.

I am fucking hammered as she and her friends turn up and in the middle of talking to an ex when she is in front of me and I am like “hold on mate, for like two seconds”. Then she is gone. What a fucking impatient bitch, but hey I am a bit interested now, yeah, you know what I mean man, when women give you the run-around, you hate it but it makes you want them more don't it? Anyway she later texts me she has gone to some other party in Chelsea and I ask her to come round to mine. She clearly isn't going to and I kind of think this is cool - I mean I am not used to birds behaving like that you see. Most of the time they are so fucking easy you cannot help but disrespect them. PJ says it's because I am English I am like this, but I don't fucking care. All women are the same really - even ones like her who come across “all wholesome” and then turn out to have a darker side, which frankly even scares me. And you know me - I can take a bit of dark side you know, I fucking love it man. Ok so PJ and I email in the week after the so-called non-event and we start flirting more and more and she is very, very funny you know, and I try to be cocky and debonair around her but she is having none of it. You know the way a guy likes it. A bit of a challenge and I cannot work her out. It feels really good for a while so we arrange to go out on a date and this is where it all goes wrong. I mean come on, I think we both know beforehand we aren't going to be particularly compatible, she is the wholesome type I am a part(y)-timer in that respect. Ok, so we meet up yeah; I take her to this pub in Notting Hill. She has said she is low maintenance you know, which is cool with me, but she doesn't like the pub. Anyway she is ten minutes late, arrives in jeans, trainers and a t-shirt and here I am in my fucking stylish outfit with this ragamuffin. I mean, I just never did that before. Like met up with a girl who wasn't wearing lipstick. Fucking awful. Immediately I feel miffed and a bit embarrassed. She asks if I have had anything to eat and I joke, "eating is cheating" to which she just raises an eyebrow and asks, "so you are anorexic then?" and I go "no of course I am fucking not." But polite, I am still giving her a chance. She definitely isn't anorexic. No such luck there. Ok, we kind of try to get on for the first ten minutes, I ask her about her job, she tells me about it, and I tell her about mine and try to come over like a good boy by talking about my family. When she speaks about hers I am bored and decide it's the end of the evening and that I'd quite like to fuck her, if only she would shut up.

She looks puzzled as I jump off my seat and ask her what the plan is. She answers in that snooty Chelsea girl way "I don't know, you are the man here, why don't you suggest something." I am irritated with her now. We go outside and I think this is now or never and kiss her. She responds and I ask her if she wants to go to my place. She nods. All girls are the same she is too fucking easy for words. I am a bit disappointed in the whole event to be honest. It hasn't lived up to my expectations of how it was supposed to be. I was hoping to fall madly in love and live happily ever after. Well, you know at least take me through the winter.

We are in the taxi, and ok I admit I have told her I live in High St Ken, and she is obviously surprised when really I live in Shepherds Bush yeah, but who the hell has asked her to blurt out in that awful way "you live in Shepherds Bush, how the hell am I going to get back to Chelsea from here?" I tell her to calm down. She won't be so snooty when she is back at my crib you know what I mean. When we arrive she doesn’t say anything as we walk into the flat. She doesn't comment on how cool it is or anything, she doesn't even make a comment about the aquarium in the wall between the bedroom and the lounge. She just sits down and I give her a drink, oh, she says one thing, "you have a really nice carpet". Who the hell says that? Oh, yeah I forget there is something else: she doesn't drink! What the fuck, how the hell am I supposed to react to that? She tells me in the pub, and I am freaking out. What kind of normal person doesn't drink? She tells me she was a bit wild when she was younger and decided to let go of it. I have to go and get myself a triple vodka to take the edge of things. It's not just the way she says it, you know, but she actually goes "Jack look at me when I talk to you, why do people drink?" I retort helpfully "to get drunk?" and she is of course very disapproving of this answer and goes all self righteous on me, and says "Yes, but why do people get drunk?" and I am not sure what to say, she continues "well, because they are insecure, I am not insecure. So there." She even does this - you won’t fucking believe it - she sticks out her hand and holds it horizontally in front of me and says “look! I am not shaking.” Why the hell would she be shaking? She isn’t even drunk. I just say, “Well, ok then, you are not.” And look the other way desperate for something to happen. I am now so fucking angry with myself for going out with her that I am hoping the vodka will kick in soon, but it doesn't, and I fake being a bit pissed and snog her outside.

So we are back at my flat. I give her a glass of water (!) and start kissing her and quickly we are undressed and I take her by the hand and drag her into my bedroom where I give a very good show in my own opinion. You know I kiss her lots, I am all over her and giver her oral sex like 4-5 times and we have foreplay for like over an hour before she begs me to fuck her. Anyway, so I think I am home free, so I let myself come, but another thing is before I penetrate her she makes me wear a condom although I am trying to ignore her. I hate wearing a condom and I am not going to sleep with anyone again who wants me to wear one. Anyway, I do this, just this time. By then I know I won't make the time to see her again. Too fucking boring. Afterwards I try to chat to her. You know let her know gently I won't be seeing her again, and tell her more or less honestly about my “issues with intimacy”. This usually works and the birds love it, and will do anything to please you after such a speech. I tell her my routine of "Babe, I have huge intimacy issues, and cannot commit.” (And this is my favourite) “I am not belittling what we had, but I just cannot open my heart to anyone, not that I don't want to because I really do, but after being hurt once, I am just unable to open up again." This is partly true, I think, by the way. But Plain Jane reacts differently than I am used to, and this irritates the shit out of me. Instead of hugging me and saying "It's all right I am not going to hurt you baby," she laughs and says very matter-of-factly like an old headmistress "Jack, I don't know what your problem is, but why don't you just relax? All signs indicate we are not going to see each other again, and why don't we just take it easy today and then say goodbye in the morning." She then starts laughing and says a few things like "If I am a bit rusty it's because I hardly ever have these things happen to me anymore you know - I seem to be too sensible most of the time. So apologies for that." Then she continues with "I once saw this Woody Allen film where Woody says to the camera "...about sex, if you haven't had it for eight months or more, you should revise your sex life and look at what you do wrong..." so it has been something like that time now between last time and now, so hey ho." She laughs. This irritates me. She could at least pretend to be taking me seriously, be softer, and be more like real girls. I feel like really hurting her now, so I say some more stuff about how I don't actually really like women that much and so forth, luckily she picks up on it and says goodnight and goes to sleep. Thank fucking God for that.

The next morning she gets up before me to go to work. I am relieved. I email her from work asking her if she is ok. She writes me back quickly saying she is and thanks for asking. I make a vow not to go out with anyone who isn't suited again, and then forget all about it. I am just going to continue as I have always done. I am a man about town and everyone knows my name and it feels good. I can't wait for New Year's in Moscow with my trusted posse and a load of Russian models cum party girls. I cannot fucking wait! I am living the dream man, I am living the dream, no need to look below the surface and find any meaning, and I cannot be wasting my time on wasters. Why the hell should I? I am in my prime; I am living the fast life. I am doing what any man would do in my shoes, and I am doing it well. Two days later she sends me a text thanking me for the date and apologise if she was rude. She says she had bumped her head in the day and had been given a couple of valiums by an old lady and not knowing the effects of them and that she might have come across a bit vacant. I swear this is what she says! I cannot even begin to understand whether this is true or not and why it should make a difference to me anyway. I know she is just being polite and I have lost interest by now anyway, so I decide to have the last say in the matter and delete her number.

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