Cabbie Diaries part 1

So those of you who follow the fanpage or twitter will know that for about 2 weeks I was talking to a cab driver. Universe, we seem to be having major communication issues these days? Is my meaning not clear? When I said I loved Black Cabs I meant the car with the yellow light at the front not necessarily black cab drivers. I see how that is any easy mistake to make but Universe, we need to focus our efforts from now on ok? Now, let’s go back ……

Two weeks ago one of my 6 birthday twins had a party and as I left it to head home I missed a bus and was walking back to the tube station when a cab pulled up, wound down the window and said “Excuse me miss, but can I be of any assistance?” What can I say, I was feeling all birthday happy, the sun was shining as was his smile and so after establishing that I wouldn’t have to call this one in (I can’t do the Addison Lee wait times at the best of times) I accepted his offer of a lift to the station.

He was happy to talk about himself. He was a cabbie and had been for 2 years, he was 40, never been married, didn’t have any kids was Nigerian and lived in Tottenham. Ok when I say happy to talk I mean that he was happy to answer my barrage of what’s wrong with you questions. Hmmmm, it wasn’t looking good but then I wasn’t really cutting it with the white collar dudes either so maybe it was time for a change?

There are a number of reasons why I should have known that this wouldn’t work. Firstly he’s a cabbie who picked me up randomly on the street.  A later conversation revealed that he was chatting to 6 women and 2 of whom he had already taken out and could possibly be sleeping with. He wasn’t willing to confirm their sexual status. Hmmmmm. Secondly he lives in North East London in an area I have found not to be dating friendly for me. And thirdly he thinks that South West London is too posh. It really isn’t but if you think it is then we clearly have an issue. This is also outside of my 45 minute dating zone but given his occupation I figured that he would be more flexible in terms of picking me up.

So things weren’t looking good but on the flip side I could see some positives. He was a cab driver I could call directly after a drunken night out. Surely this was worth overlooking niggling points like the fact that he was a rampant flirt and curb crawler?

And so my precious I gave him my number and agreed to a date in the future. I would hate for you to think of me as anything less than compromising and open to looking for love in all the wrong places. Don’t worry, this was also the week in which I met a cute locksmith and considered dating him too. I was clearly in a practical dating stage which, for future reference should only be used for jobs that you cannot do yourself and need regularly.

So if anyone knows of an eligible, black, well-endowed British Gas engineer, web developer or chef let me know? But cabbies I’ll skip and I’ll tell you for why in part 2. Besides, I think I prefer men who are hailing cabs, not driving them.

© Chelsea Black

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