Get me some jiggy jiggy

In order to put mission Ellesbelles Starts Over into practice, I've been looking back at my past beaus in order to see if there is any sort of pattern, or any method in my madness.  And, it must be said, I have made some odd, odd decisions.  For example:

The Control Freak

This bullying creature wanted to dominate and control every aspect of my life.  A serial philanderer, he somehow managed to get me to forgive and forget so many of his indiscretions that I ended up forgetting that I didn't really want to forgive any more. Domineering and aggressive, in his company I somehow morphed into a 1950s housewife, ensuring I was always up at least 30 mins before him so that his breakfast was ready on the table when he got up and he wouldn't have to endure seeing me without make up.  Anything for a quiet life became my mantra, and when I eventually managed to wrestle free I vowed to never date an alpha male again.

The Virgin

The first date I had post the Control Freak was a sweet, sweet man.  He was a couple of years younger than me, and as egotistical as it sounds,  he was absolutely smitten with me.  He treated me like a princess and bearing in mind the relationship I'd been in before before, I was flattered and probably a little bit smitten back.   However, during a conversation one night about moving the relationship to the next level, I said I was not ready to sleep with him yet (we'd only known each other a few months).  His response was that he had no issue with that, as he wanted to save himself for his wedding night.  His wedding night?  Seriously?  Now I am not one to judge someone else's morals and beliefs, and in its way I think that's quite sweet, but the idea that I would have to stick another ring on my finger in order to get me some jiggy jiggy was not something I could contemplate so that was the end of that one.

The Stalker

We met on a train.  We dated, and as is my usual form, it wasn't long before things started to get serious.  I was spending more and more time at his house (an absolutely beautiful split level town house where I had my own vanity suite, dressing room and 2 spare rooms for my kids should I ever have decided to introduce them).  He had a key to my house, I had one to his, and it was all hunky dory.  I did sometimes get an odd feeling that he had been over to my house when I was at work, but I thought I was simply being paranoid.  It was little things, such as the kettle being the wrong way round (he was left handed and always put it on the base with the spout pointing to the right).

One night I was at his but feeling very unwell.  He cooked me dinner, ran me a bath and when I got out I asked for some pyjamas or sweats.  He invited me to go to his room and get some from his cupboard.  Imagine my shock when I opened the closet and tucked away in the back, hidden, were three pairs of my knickers, a couple of pairs of stockings and a picture of me that he'd taken from my house!  Needless to say, I got out fast and never went back.

The Inmate

This one had the makings of being something special.  Tall, very handsome, a bit rough around the edges but a good laugh and an air of mystery.  One night he asked me what special skills I possess that would come in useful on a desert island.  Before I had a chance to think of a reply, he told me he had learned butchery.  When I asked where he'd learned that he said, almost proudly, he'd learned it in prison.  Asked why he'd been in prison, he told me, again with far too much pride, that he'd killed someone.  I was clearly not sticking around for the rest of that story, so I got the bill and left.

The Elvis Impersonator

Beautiful boy.  Younger, sexy, bright, good mix of fun and kindness.  A few months in and it looked as though things might be heading towards the bedroom, although I noticed a reticence on his part. He told me that he doesnt like to rush things, because all too often once a relationship has been consummated it would then end shortly after.

One night, certain that the time was right, I got out the Wonderbra, cooked a meal, lit the candles, put on the Barry White.  And it was amazing.  However, once he started to get into the swing of things, I noticed that he was making a very, very strange noise.  It started as a sort of low growl, building up to an almost ear splitting crescendo which sounded like a cross between a wounded animal and a working men's club Elvis Impersonator giving it his very bust "Uh Huh Huh Huh". 

Another one bites the dust.

The Monopod

Oh dear.  This one was bizarre.  I met the guy at a dating event.  Nice man, good fun, seemed to be quite open and honest. 

Went back to his house one evening after a night out, things were getting a little steamy, next thing I know his trousers are off, and so was his wooden leg.  Just like that.  No warning, no explanation.   Apparently he hadn't told me as he thought I'd be put off, as his last girlfriend hadn't liked it as she was into swimming and rock climbing?.  Did he really think I wouldn't notice eventually?

The Bearer of Gifts

Another online dater.  We had spoken online a few times, and the day before we were due to meet he called to me and said he and his daughter had been out to buy me a present.  Odd in itself, but OK.   When I arrived at the scheduled destination, he was already there, having got there an hour and a half earlier (he said he was worried he might be late!). He was already two thirds of the way down the bottle of fancy French champagne, and more than a little squiffy.  He then proceeded to spend the next hour telling me how excited he had been to meet me, that he'd shown everyone in his office my picture, his daughter was really happy that he was out on a date, that his mother was sitting at home waiting for updates on how the date was going.  It was all so utterly suffocating and creepy I couldn't wait to leave, but of course he wanted to surprise me with the big finish of giving me my gifts.  He gave me a card (please remember, we had not met at the time he puchased and wrote this card) which simply stated "Thank you for what I know is going to be a wonderful evening".  He then handed me a box. Inside this box were three wrapped gifts.  The first was the most enormous box of Belgian chocolates I'd eve seen.  The second was a book about Italy (very sweet actually) and the third, bizarrely,  was the Forrest Gump DVD.  I have absolutely no clue as to why, or what the relevance was.  He looked so proud of himself I didnt have the heart to say I had no intention of ever seeing him again.  By the time I got home around 45 minutes later I had had 6 missed calls and about 10 text messages.  Needless to say, I only sent one in response, and it didn't say "call me"

There are many, many more misfits to add to this motley crew.  I haven't detailed The Liar, The Walter Mitty, The Eating Disorder, since I imagine you get the picture from the above.  What is clear is that the only common link between them is me.  Clearly I have a special knack for attracting strange creatures, perhaps the old maxim of "takes one to know one" is at play here.

Anyway, I'm off out for cocktails with a friend tonight, and my radar is switched to "freak".  I'll let you know how I get on.