In the past, if I was feeling a little freaky, I knew satisfying my urge wouldn't be too far away. But with J out of the picture for the time being, I'm left constantly wondering where and when I can get my next hit. I don't know if it's because I've become older and fatter, or if it's because I'm fussier, but I just can't seem to find it as easily as I used to.
I've reached the point where I'm actually counting the number of days I've been without it. Yes, ok, fine... It's been 194 days. Tomorrow will be 195. The sad thing is I've not even been close. Well, not really. I would have had it if it wasn't for my menstrual cycle being way out of sync. Although, in hindsight, it was probably a good thing...
It was about six weeks ago when I begged my friend RRB to find a guy to hook me up with. He did so without hesitation. He pulled up two guys at the bar and introduced me. Having begged him to do so, it would have been rude for me to turn my nose up at them. Initially I wasn't attracted to either, but as I was talking to them both, one of them suddenly ignited my fire. I can't pinpoint the moment, it's strange. In fact, the same thing has happened to me a few times recently.
Anyway, it was clear we got on well and he stayed to hang around with me and my friends. We also discovered we had mutual friends, which, in my book, is always an added bonus. After a bit of bar hopping, we were drunk as skunks. No, we were far more drunk than skunks. In the end, we settled on a karaoke bar and it was in there Red Shirt and I had a bit of a snog.
Reminding me how little action I'd had over the past few months, my body started to get a little overexcited. To the point I had to leave. Right then. And he had to come with me. We went back to his place and there was a bit of hanky panky, but nothing more as the painters were in, so to speak. Frustrating? Very!
Now, not that I'm one to be adverse towards the idea of being taken on a date, but Red Shirt did bring it up very abruptly. Does that make sense? To me, there's something terribly unnerving about a guy who is proposing overly romantic dates and weekend getaways the night you meet. I thought chivalry was dead? Well guess what, it is...
I didn't see Red Shirt for a while as I was busy trotting around the globe, but when I returned to the desert, we finally got round to going on that date. Although I use the term 'date' quite loosely. We met up in a local bar and had a few drinks. Perfectly normal date behaviour, right? Well, it would have been if he managed to look at me for more than five seconds the whole evening. To reassure himself he was on a date he even had to say "Sorry I keep looking away, but I am listening". Yeah, he was watching the tennis.
Now I'm all for being into Wimbledon, but if you want to watch it that badly, don't agree to go on a date with me that night. A few minutes of your attention would have been lovely. Usually, I'm quite chatty on dates; I'm an inquisitive person and I like to find out all about the person I'm with, but on this occasion, I found myself semi-blankly staring at the screen (admittedly I too had a mild interest in the tennis game going on).
About two minutes after the tennis match finished, Red Shirt ordered the bill. We went double dutch. Then we went to his place. It felt a bit wrong - he'd practically ignored me all evening and now I was off to his place. If I wasn't so desperate, I'd have given him the old heave-ho right there and then.
When we were back at his place, I realised we didn't quite fit. However, I went along with it, even though I knew I'd be getting no nookie on this particular evening. Menstrual cycle again! But I saw it as an investment; if he didn't get it tonight, he'd definitely want it when I was able to. Except, that wasn't the case at all.
Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. That's what they say. Clearly by 'mean' they don't mean 'on'. Because the next day when I sent Red Shirt a text, inviting him to my place over the weekend, I didn't get a reply. It wouldn't have bothered me if he hadn't been so damn quick to respond to previous texts.
Anyway, that night, I went out with a girlfriend to another local bar and who do I bump into? Why, yes, Red Shirt himself. He caught my eye as he walked past and so I guess he felt guilt-tripped into saying hi to me. He needn't have bothered. He gave me a peck on the cheek and proceeded to tell me how he couldn't text back as he had no credit. Then he walked off. Yeah, walked off. No "how was your day?" or "Yes I'd love to come over" or even a "I can't make it, Uzbekistan are playing Papa New Guinea in the world cup". I mean, really, make some effort, even if you have no intention of seeing me again.
Instead of questioning why he didn't want me, I started questioning who in the bar did want me. And along came Billy. He was tall, cute and articulate. He had my attention before he even clapped eyes on me.
He stood at the bar alone, and I convinced my friend to come with me to chat to him, despite her initial protests. I think my friend could see I was quickly hooked and so she left after only one drink, leaving me in the company of Billy. We chatted for ages, until the lights in the bar came up actually.
Billy works in banking, is incredibly ambitious and has a cheeky smile to die for. We had one of those conversations that could go on forever. I definitely fancied him and now that I was ‘off’, I definitely intended to take him home.
As we were chatting a way, something in my mind clicked and I felt compelled to ask him if he was married. I dropped the question so casually into the conversation, I’m surprised Billy answered. Perhaps, subconciously, I didn’t wan’t him to answer. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. He looked at me, looked away and then took a sip of his Tiki-Pukka-Pukka. He nodded his head. There is goes again… that horrible sinking stomach feeling.
I wasn’t sure what to do; do I finish my drink and leave or continue chatting to him? I didn’t want him to think I was only speaking to him so I could lure him into bed. But I also didn’t want him to think it was acceptable for a married man to pick up women at the bar. Although, admittedly, it was me who started chatting to him. I decided I’d continue with our conversation. Hey, if this was the closest I was going to get to actually having any kind of romantic clinch, then I wasn’t going to let it slip through my fingers!
By the end of the night, Billy and I were in our own little zone, although he preferred to call it ‘the bubble’. For a while, it felt like I was Scarlett Johannsen and he was Bill Murray, sat at a bar in a foreign land, trying to resist temptation.
I’m a little hazy about how a decision was made, but we agreed we would leave together. I kind of knew it was wrong; he was married afterall, but I guess I couldn’t see beyond my own desires. Luckily for me, as we left the bar, his wife called. I don’t know if it was the call from his wife or if it was the humidity outside giving me a wake up call, but I suddenly felt a wave of guilt. I knew it’d be the wrong thing to do, and so when Billy ended the call with his wife I looked at him with raised eyebrows. He immediately knew what it meant and said “Yeah, I should probably do the right thing”.
Yes, Billy, you should…
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