Honk if You're Horny

Music: Lovers in the Backseat - Scissor Sisters

After finding out that Matt was seemingly going to propose to me on Christmas day, I did what any messed up girl would have done in that situation:  I pretended like it had never happened and threw myself into the festive spirit.  Which in my case, was called vodka.

The following week after Presentgate it was my office Christmas party, and whilst everyone else was draping themselves in tinsel and positioning themselves under the mistletoe, I was quiet and withdrawn.  Despite my best efforts I just couldn’t stop thinking about the present and what it meant.

I couldn’t split up with Matt just before Christmas but I couldn’t bear the thought of opening our gifts together on Christmas Day morning and just how awful it was going to be. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him and I didn’t know what to do.

I decided the best course of action was to go to the office party and get leathered. Which is exactly what I did.

Work’s dos are usually naff where I work, although in previous years there’s been the saving grace that the venue has been in the centre of town. This means that after you’ve eaten the rock hard Brussels sprouts and slab of Christmas pudding you can F-off somewhere else before the embarrassing dancing starts.

Not this year.

Due to the “late booking” (read cost savings), the Christmas party was at a hotel in the middle of nowhere. It was miles away from anything and there was absolutely nothing to do nearby.  Well, unless you class dogging as a great way to spend a few hours.  The park just up the road was apparently a bit of a hotspot for sexual deviants, and with a quick flash of your headlights you would be up to your eyes in spunk filled tissues faster than you could say "honk if you're horny". 
(In case you’re wondering, I have a friend who is a policeman and he told me about it. I've never been there myself - honest).

As getting jiggy with it in my car with sleazy old men peering through the sunroof and wanking themselves off really wasn’t my thing it looked like I was stuck in the hotel.

It was OK though as we could bring our partners, so hurrah, Matt was with me. Pass the wine please...

The meal passed without event and I was actually having quite a good time, although I admit that the free-flowing alcohol did help.

After the meal we all migrated to the bar area, where there was an open fire and plenty of tables. One of the team leaders and his girlfriend were pretty big drinkers, so tequila slammers were soon being ordered for everyone and lined up on the bar. I didn’t complain as he was he probably earned way too much, and no-one stopped him as he bought round after round and refused to let anyone else pay. Fair enough.

One.


Two.


Three.

Lick.

Gulp.

Slam.

Suck.

Ugggh.

I’d lost sight of Matt by this point as I think he was talking to/at someone about different styles of management.  I figured that he was probably in his element as he was giving his opinion to others, so I sat down at one of the tables round the corner from the bar.

The office where I work is mostly filled with my direct colleagues but there are a few sales men that sit at the far end. The sales guys are all a really good laugh and I always chat to them on my way to the kitchen. 

Well, I chat to all but one of them, who from now on I shall refer to as Foxy Scott.

As I sat down and massaged feet which ached from standing in my heels, I glanced across the room and saw Foxy Scott leaning against the bar, looking at me. 

I smiled at him. 

He smiled back. 

Then he started to walk over...

Things were about to get very interesting...

The Ex-Files

Music: Heartbreak - Magistrates

I know I've started dating now but I think it's time for me to get something off my chest. 

Before I split up with my now ex-boyfriend I was a bit naughty.

I guess you could say I had a bit of a rebound before I actually split up with him.

Well kind of... It’s halfway between that and the push I needed to realise that the relationship was over.

Yeah I know, I'm a terrible person, but as with most things in life - it was complicated.

I’m not proud about it but the feelings I had were something that I hadn’t felt in a long time, and they jolted me to do something I’d been putting off for months: end it with my boyfriend and leave me where you found me in my first post: Tragically fantasising about rugby players.

Matt is my latest ex and we were together for two and a half years before we finally split up. I don’t want to go into too much detail about the ins and outs of our relationship as unlike the random dates I did care for him. 

However the big problem we had was that he was a complete and utter arsehole.

Well, maybe that’s a bit harsh...

As our relationship progressed it turned out that his opinion was the only one that mattered.  Great eh?  The foundations of a happy and healthy relationship, right there...  I tried to talk to him on several occasions about how I felt and how things weren’t right, but it started to emerge that if he thought there wasn’t a problem then there wasn’t a problem. I would be patted on the head and brushed off to go quietly mad, wondering how he managed to manipulate me so easily.

Of course, that was after I’d stood behind his back, furiously flicking him with the V's.

Quite often if we were out with other people and I made a statement, Matt would step in with the line:

“No dear, that’s not right.”

It was a proverbial patronising pat on the head. There, there, run along and stop being such a silly girl.

Cock.

I kept hoping that my feelings for him would just click back into place and I would feel like I did for the first year of our relationship, but it just didn’t happen and the months passed by.

I know what you're thinking, why did I put up with it?  Well the answer is, I let the relationship continue because Matt was an expert at manipulation.  By the end I felt like I was losing my identity and I didn't know what I thought about things anymore.  But he did it in a very subtle way, which made me question if he was messing with my head or not.

As I said, it was complicated.

If I hadn’t found the Christmas present that he’d bought for me then I don’t know if I’d have got the wakeup call which pushed me to call it a day...

I knew that Matt had bought my Christmas present as he smugly announced it one day in early December while we were having lunch. Now I’m not the best at surprises, and if someone tells me that there’s a present for me hidden somewhere in the house then it's guaranteed I’ll turn the place upside down until I find it.

So I waited for him to go out and then I accidentally ransacked his room.

I was hoping that he’d paid attention to the jewellery catalogue I’d left open on the coffee table and he’d take the hint and have a look. I’d circled some bracelets and necklaces and written “I really love this one” in a subtle effort to guide his purchase.
 
After about half an hour of rummaging around in his bedroom (and carefully placing everything back exactly as I found it) I stumbled across the beautifully gift wrapped present stuffed at the back of his sock drawer.

He had definitely bought me some jewellery as I recognised the wrapping paper they use in the shop.  The present was wrapped in a small box about 10cm x 10cm and about 4cm deep. I studied it for a few seconds to try and work out what he could have bought me based on what I’d hinted at, and then I gave the box a shake.

Something inside knocked against the wall of the box. Odd.

I shook it again. Same thing.

I couldn’t think what it could be.

Was it a box within a box?

Oh f*ck. It sounded like a smaller box within this box.

Shit.

The only box smaller than this is a ring box.

Oh my God.

Had he bought me a ring?

Shit.

Please God don’t let it be an engagement ring.

Oh shit shit shit.

At that moment my heart sunk to the floor. 

Matt proposing to me on Christmas Day was the worst thing that I could possibly imagine happening to me.

I sat on the bed holding the perfectly wrapped Christmas present in my hands. I looked at the dainty snowflakes on the wrapping paper and its pretty gold ribbon with a massive lump in my throat.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What was I going to do?

I didn’t want to marry Matt. I didn’t want to pledge my heart and soul to such a pompous wanker.

It had been going on for months. Matt wanted us to buy a house together, but because of the way I felt I didn’t want to go down that route at all. I owned my home so I would have to sell, whilst Matt was renting so it was easy for him. I would have all the risk and I just couldn’t see the reward. I had been putting off house hunting for months but now with the prospect of him getting down on bended knee I knew I couldn’t take it anymore.

I put the present back in the gift bag, covered it with socks and closed the drawer.

Then I drank a whole bottle of wine and cried.

(To be continued)

The Magic Number

Music: Sex and the City Theme

I’ve never really played the field before in my life. Never ever.

Well, maybe a bit but not very much when compared with everyone I knew when I was younger.

Even when I was stumbling around my university campus, drunk and horny after £1 a pint night I was never that promiscuous. I snogged plenty of gorgeous shaggy haired indie boys but that was generally as far as it went.

The only men I actually had sex with were my boyfriends (with only a couple of exceptions), and I was always ridiculously serious about them as that was all I knew and was everything that I wanted.

Looking back, I now know that my lack of self-confidence as a naive 20 year old stopped me from whipping through a long line of blokes.  Not that I consider myself to be a man eater now you understand. 

Saying that, the creation of GHD straighteners is nothing short of a minor miracle as far as I'm concerned.  The stupid frizzy blonde hair of my youth is definitely a thing of the past, which helps when I'm trying to flick my hair around and look seductive.  For a start, I don't look like I'm wearing a bird's nest on my head or like I've been shagged through a hedge backwards. 

All this all leads me to my question for today: Just how many is too many? 

I'll be honest with you.  I've slept with eight men. 

Yes eight.  I don't think that's too many for eleven years of sexual history, do you? 

OK so I'm not exactly Mother Theresa but I'm hardly a whore of Babylon either.  And yes I've done "stuff" with other guys too (which I'm not counting by the way...). 

The thing is I've always been a bit tradtional and only slept with guys I was way to serious about or gave my heart to all too freely. 

Well, most of the time.  There are a couple of notable exceptions, namely Craig and Sexy Motorbike Guy (who I will tell you about one day, I promise).

I just think that I suck at being a slut.

Yep, as Serenityville said, I think I'm a relationship kind of girl... 

Is that a bad thing?  And eight's not too big a number, right?

Ray of Sunshine

Lovely Lottie over at Lottie's Lot is a little a ray of sunshine and she has ever so kindly given me the Sunshine Award.

Thank you Lottie! 

This means it's my turn to pass the award on to six bloggers who always brighten my day.

They are:

Jassy Onya'e at http://confessionalsofonyae.blogspot.com/
Serenityville at http://serenityville.blogspot.com/
Nancy at http://www.f8hasit.com/
Fishy at http://plentymorefishoutofwater.blogspot.com/
Ally at http://allytales.blogspot.com/
Kate at http://secretofficeconfessions.blogspot.com/
 
x

The Perfect 10: Craig

Music:  Average Man - Turin Brakes

I know that Craig isn’t the one for me and as horrible as it sounds, he has served his purpose.  I really don’t think that the sex side of meeting someone new is going to be an issue now, all thanks to my dalliance with him.

I also didn't set out to match Craig up against my Perfect 10 list, but as it seems that I’ve been considering his merits all day I might as well...

1. Looks

Craig is as fit fit FIT as a bag of chips and twice as sexy. So it’s a tick in this category.

2. Sense of humour

Sort of. We had a bit of a laugh but more often than not it was when we were hideously drunk.  The rest of the time it was really awkward and I wanted to set fire to my hair just to give us something to talk about.   No point here.

3. Being Down to Earth

Craig works in the building trade and is very down to earth so it's a yes here.

4. Loyalty and Trust

No idea as I didn’t get to know him well enough.

5. Kindness

Er, no.  He drops a point as he didn’t seem to care at all about how I was feeling during my Grandma’s funeral.  Wanker.

6. Have a strong sense of family

He works for the family business and he still lives with his parents.  LOSER.  But that'll be a yes in this category...

7. Solvency

Craig has a job but still lives chez Mummy and Daddy, so I’m not sure where he falls in this category. Maybe half a point?

8. Ambition and a drive to succeed

He did tell me that one day he will take over his Dad’s business, so it's a tick in this box. 
Still, it would be nice if Craig had the ambition to break out of the shackles of his family and strike out on his own. 
When I write everything about him living with his parents/working with his Dad/aspiring to take over the family business, to me it's starting to sound like some f*cked up Lancastrian version of the Waltons. 
Goodnight Craigy-kins!  Goodnight Jim-Bob!
Kill me.  Kill me now.

9. Different interests

He likes cars and motor sport and doesn’t like rugby, so it’s a yes for different interests.

10. Romance

Not really.  Nope, not at all.


Marks out of 10: 5.5

Conclusion:

Overall a bit of an average contender but not a bad starter for ten.

Craig is VERY strong in the looks department and is very physically attractive, but he is lacking in so many other areas.

I fancied the arse off him physically, but we just didn’t click.  And he was a bit shit in bed.
Still, I don’t think 5.5 is a bad score to start with though, especially as he was supposed to be a fun fling.

And on the most part he was...

All that aside, I can't believe the year is flying by so quickly and we're already into March!

Still there was a very big positive to come out of my first dalliance as a single girl:  I know I've definitely still got it!

Onwards and upwards people, onwards and upwards...

Game Over

Music:  Lovelight - Robbie Williams

So my weekend with Craig wasn't going exactly as I'd hoped...

Last week when he suggested coming over to see me I thought it would be a good idea to take him to watch a game of rugby. When I asked him if he fancied it he was really positive, especially as Sunday's opposition was a strong team and he’s never been to see a live match before.

What could possibly go wrong? 

Well after our less than fantastic second date, the answer was plenty.

The game started at 3pm so Craig and I had plenty of time to enjoy all the difficult silences and awkward moments in between waking up and kick off.

We were just about ready to set off to the ground when my phone started to ring. I fished it out of my bag whilst Craig leant against the kitchen table.

“It is my Dad,” I said to Craig. “I really should take it, just in case”.

“Yeah, no worries,” Craig replied.

“Hi Dad,” I said cheerily. “I’ve got to be quick as I’m just about to set off for the rugby.”

Craig smiled at me, before motioning that he was going to nip to the loo before we left. He bounded up the stairs as my Dad replied.

“Hiya love, the rugby is why I’m giving you a call.”

I was at a loss.

“I just wanted to arrange where we’re going to meet at the ground today,” he continued.

Oh shit. I had completely forgotten.

Sunday was the game that my Dad had arranged to come and watch with me, my Uncle John, and his friend Roger.

Shit, shit, shit.

I had to meet up with them as it has been arranged for months.

Shit. How could I have forgotten? And what was I going to do about Craig?

“Are you still there?” my Dad asked.

His voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” I replied.

Upstairs I could hear that Craig was finishing up in the loo and was washing his hands. I needed to think quick.

“Erm, I’ll meet you outside the bar under the south stand,” I said to my Dad. “Oh, and it’s a little bit awkward, as I’m bringing Craig. You know, the guy I went out on a date with the other week.”

“Oh are you now?” my Dad replied in a teasing tone.

“Yeah. I totally forgot that you were coming today....” my voice trailed off as Craig bumped down the stairs.

“OK then love,” said my Dad sounding distracted. I could hear Roger chatting away in the background. “I’ll see you there in about half an hour.” And then he put the phone down, leaving me smiling uneasily at Craig who was now standing at the bottom of the stairs.

I smiled back at him nervously and said:

“I’m afraid there’s been a slight change of plan.”


I knew that if I told Craig just minutes before the game that my Dad was going to be there he would freak out (and quite rightly too) and it would look like something I’d been planning all along. All of a sudden I was about to be cast in the role of a Sharon Stone-esque bunny-boiler.

Wonderful.

There was no getting out of it though.  I explained the situation to Craig and apologised profusely, and despite looking like a total idiot I think I managed to convince him that it wasn’t an elaborate plan for me to introduce him to my Dad.

Or maybe not.

Craig and I would spend half an hour or so with my Dad and chums then go and watch the rest of the match on our own.  It would all be fine and it wasn't going to be an issue.

Craig looked really foxy as we walked towards the rugby stadium. He was wearing a black Ralph Lauren jacket and jeans, and I think he must have had his hair cut since I saw him the other weekend. It was super short on the nape of his neck and it looked so delicious that I just wanted to stroke it.

In the same way as when he arrived yesterday, the sober Craig was proving difficult to speak to.  He was very quiet and didn’t want or seem to have much to say. It couldn't all be down to nerves about randomly meeting my Dad, could it? No, I didn’t think so, as he was like that before he started on the beers last night and also this morning.

I tentatively took hold of his hand, and we walked along holding hands for a while before he commented that he was freezing and they are firmly placed in back his pockets. OK then.

I called my Dad and I met him next to the bar area as Roger and John were getting a beer. Craig disappeared off to the loo, probably to shart himself and look for an escape route whilst I had a word with my Dad and ask him not to give Craig a hard time. As Roger and John arrived back with beers, Craig appeared from the gents.

Great.  Here go the introductions.

Just as I was about to introduce Craig to them all, simultaneously my Dad, John and Roger all held out their hands and said in unison:

“Hi, I’m Kate’s Dad, John.”

Oh my God I just I died on the spot.

I didn’t know where to look and neither did Craig as my Dad and the others all laughed heartily at their hilarious joke. Let’s just go into the ground please so I can die amongst the other fans.

What then occured I can only describe as the most toe curlingly awkward eighty minutes of my life.

The game itself is great as for once my team were unstoppable.  I couldn't enjoy it though as I was stuck in between Craig and my Dad, and I wasn't entirely sure what to do with myself.

Craig fully retreated into his shell and only peeked his head out a couple of times to ask why a decision had gone the way of the other team.  All the time my Dad worked the intimidating strong and silent look (albeit unknowingly) which I think made Craig feel even more self conscious.

To make matters worse I couldn't bring myself to abandon my Dad after he'd come all the way over to Leeds to see me.  Guilt is a wonderful thing, isn't it? 

This of course meant that I felt like a total tit for the entire duration of the game.  Craig was practically mute.

What a brilliant idea this was.

I have never been so relieved to hear the final whistle before in my life as it meant that the torture was over. (Happily my team were fantastic and clinched their first home league win of the season.  That really was the only positive of the day, and I'm gutted that I couldn't really enjoy it).

My Dad, uncle and Roger headed off in one direction and luckily as my car was parked at the other side of the stadium Craig and I left via another exit.

“I’m really sorry about that,” I said again as Craig and I walked back to my car. “I honestly totally forgot that they were coming along today.”

“Yeah, I know. You said that already,” Craig replied sounding distinctly annoyed.

My apologies were becoming embarrassing. Craig must have thought that I was a total nutter.

As we walked in silence it was really obvious that there was nothing between us. He was quiet, the scant conversation stilted and it felt like such an effort on the drive home that we didn’t really say much and just listened to the Top 40 on the radio instead.

When we got back to my house Craig immediately rushed upstairs to collect his things. Five minutes later he is in my lounge giving me a peck on the cheek and telling me that he would speak to me soon. Two minutes later he was in his car and heading off, the engine of his car growling loudly as he drove away.

What a f*ck up.
What a total and utter disaster.

I’ve got a not so funny feeling that Craig and I won’t be seeing each other again.

I’m a bit disappointed if that turns out to be the case, but deep down I know that the past couple of days have proven that we don’t actually click and there’s no real spark between us apart from when we’ve both consumed a few units of alcohol.

It’s funny, but after our weekend together I do feel slightly disappointed.  Craig was only supposed to be a bit of fun and the guy to help me get over my fears of sex and being naked: my Getting Back in the Saddle Guy as it were - but I still feel a bit deflated.

I’m really doing my own head in about Craig as I just can’t see it for what it is, or was.

Why is it that even now I’m looking for more? Maybe it’s just the way I’m programmed and maybe I just don’t do being single very well?

Or maybe it’s because in the back of my mind I’ve got the Perfect 10 list just waiting to be started on. I think it’s probably all of the above.

Agh!

FAIL!

The Second Date

Music: Cuddle Fuddle - Passion Pit

When Craig eventually does arrive at my house in his noisy car it is just before 5pm.

On hearing his car engine switch off, I leap up from the sofa and do a quick check of my reflection in the mirror.

Deeps breaths. This is all going to be fine.

Craig walks along the small path in front of the living room window and knocks at the door.

I open it with slight trepidation.

“Hi,” I say breezily, hiding my slight annoyance that he hasn’t turned up when we arranged.

“Hi,” he replies.

We kiss each other on the cheek and then he dumps his bag on the carpet.

“Do you mind if we put Soccer Saturday on?” he asks immediately. “The footie results are coming in.”

How romantic. Nice to see you too.

Usually I am be the first one to request that the channel gets changed to Soccer Saturday.  Yes, I am one of those weird women who really love football, but this is just a little bit rude don’t you think? He’s only just arrived and he’s more interested in the football than he is with me.

Hmm, that's another clue that he's only come to see me so he can see me and come.

As we sit on the couch and watch the scores roll in, Craig is quiet and really introverted. I slyly check him out from the corner of my eye. He is still foxy though, and his plain white t-shirt hugs his arms nicely.

Foxy yes, but he looks really uncomfortable and not quite sure what to do with himself.

As the final football scores filter through, I decide that the best course of action is to get ready to go out, as at least this will give us something to do. We both head upstairs and get changed: me in my bedroom, him in the bathroom. We might have seen each other naked already, but somehow it doesn’t feel right for us to watch each other strip off and tart ourselves up.

After half an hour of primping and preening I am ready to go, so I head back downstairs where Craig is already waiting for me, watching ‘The A-Team’ on some obscure satellite channel.

“You look nice,” he says as I enter the lounge.

OK so that's one brownie point back.

“Thanks,” I reply, and feel my cheeks flushing slightly.

I have made an effort tonight as I’m wearing one of my nicest dresses, with black opaque tights and glossy black patent heels.

Maybe he is just being shy?

I’ve booked us a table at a bustling and popular Italian restaurant tonight, as during our text conversation in the week Craig let slip that Italian food is his favourite.

The taxi arrives promptly and whisks us off into town. Craig has never been to Leeds before and I am determined to show him what a brilliant night out it can be.

We arrive at the restaurant, and it is busy and buzzing with a really lively atmosphere. The swish waiter takes our drinks order, and as Craig is drinking beer it looks like I’m having a bottle of wine to myself.

Well, it is much cheaper than ordering it by the glass...

As opposed to our first date this time the conversation is a bit more stilted, and at times it feels like we are running out of things to say. I try my best, and eventually I have to resort to talking about Preston North End football team to keep the conversation flowing. 

I know.  Things were that bad.  Luckily for me I’d done a bit of research.

This seems to work though and things start to pick up. Or is it because we are a bit tipsy now? Either way, I figure that as he is here we might as well try and have as good a time as possible.

The meal is delicious, and I can’t get enough of the butternut squash risotto and rocket and parmesan salad. Craig opts for a Toscana pizza, which is piled high with Parma ham and wild mushrooms. We are getting on OK, although I’m sure the Pinot Grigio has something to do with it.

I take Craig to a couple of bars, and the night follows a similar course to our first date:

In the first bar we chat and drink politely.

On the way to the second bar we hold hands.

By the time I’m pressed up against the wall being passionately kissed in bar number three, we decide it’s time to head back to my house.

We have sex, but this time it is distinctly lacking in fireworks and the movie style ripping off of clothes. Craig does the weird closing of the eyes thing again and it feels like we don’t connect at all. If I’m honest it doesn’t really do anything for me this time, and as attractive as Craig is, it is starting to become a bit of an effort to spend time with him.

He is a quiet bloke whereas I am an extrovert by nature, and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if I read too much into the silences. I wouldn’t mind if the quiet times felt easy and relaxed, but they don’t. I can almost feel them hanging in the air like a flashing neon sign which says: “You two have no spark”.

I look at Craig as he falls asleep about five seconds after coming and realise that even though he is young, fit, and sexy and is perfect fling material, that maybe this fling needs to be flung.

Sunday confirms this for me though...