Voice dating com

We would put it on loudspeaker and listen to him recount the events of his day, routinely referencing his two self-proclaimed alter egos: “hero” when he would go to the gym, shower, or have a successful meeting, and “kitten” every time he was tired or “feeling weak”.It was like the male version of As the voice notes accumulated, so did my fears, which were well-validated during our two Face Time sessions.Ladies and Gentlemen, meet The Voice, a man who’s pretentious Queen’s English still rings in my head like an incessant buzzing bee, threatening to morph into a fragment of my paranoid nightmares.

(Nothing like a few tears and an impending 29 birthday to get the matchmaking guilt going!) Five minutes later, I received a Whats App message from the guy, who seemed to be very excited to meet me – I’m talking enthusiasm levels normally reserved for Miranda Kerr here.Coincidentally, my flight back to New York was scheduled via London, so I asked him to hook it up.After a quick battle, with him refusing to tarnish their acquaintanceship at the expense of my stupidity, he finally gave in and sent through the text.He texted me ten minutes later to wish me good night (“I hope you’re curled up in bed like a cat”), and then again at am to inform me that he had just completed his morning run.

He also sent me a screen shot of his Google calendar, explaining that he had back to-back meetings all week (with real venture capitalists, whoop whoop!This pitch continued for about fifteen minutes, after which he paused to catch a breath / briefly inquire about my own life, quickly pronounced me to be “dangerously brilliant” (a compliment that must resonate well within my age demographic) and ushered me back up the park stairs.After returning the glasses to the pub (making this the saddest attempt at bad-assedness in history), we headed to dinner at a local Greek restaurant, a lovely meal during which he chatted away and I tried to hold back all snide comments by eating three courses and downing about ¾ of a bottle of red wine, which eventually had me melting into the couch like an overstuffed cabbage patch doll. You’re a cat,” he announced, licking his lips while ogling me from behind his spectator lenses. After dinner, he walked me to my friend’s house, awkwardly held me for about 90 seconds, and kissed me good night – a decent first kiss, probably because, for those few moments, he was finally silent.Another chance meant meeting him after dinner that evening, a fairly uneventful hour of him Ted Talking as my friends listened, bemused in their estimation on how long this would last.At the end of the night, he wrapped his arms around me, stared into my eyes, and asked me if I would ever consider moving to London. You will love it,” he proclaimed, as if his version of London was fundamentally different from all the others I had seen.“If it all works out, I see us doing great things together,” he declared, as if he had found the Angelina Jolie to his Brad Pitt.