Hot Cross Buns – part 1

Hello! I’ve been away for a few days and have decided that my current dating situation is still a bit on the dull side, therefore I'll present you with a fresh new instalment from the past... Hot Cross Buns!

Hot Cross Buns lived in my city, was about my age, and his online profile was very friendly and fun. He seemed to be my type physically as well - very blond, massive blue eyes, fit. Agreeing to a date with him was a no brainer.

He was a busy man so we met for brunch in a lovely little cafe outside the cathedral green. When I got there, he was sat on a stool, looking very proud of having snatched a table as the place was manic.

We kissed on the cheek and started chatting. Things were awkward for about 10 minutes, then we both started relaxing. He had a job in IT, so work wasn’t really a conversation topic (sorry, IT people, it's not you, it's me). He was massively into fitness, which I was happy to listen to (after all it’s not every day that you get to have coffee with a triathlete) but couldn’t really contribute much. The waiter came and went with our food. Everything was delicious, and I remember I was concentrating more on the food than on what he was saying. I caught myself drifting off a couple of times. What was that about his boss? Oops.

It’s not like he wasn’t talking enough, or he was talking too much. He was nice. But I was getting bored – pretty quickly. Just when I was about to call it a day – the food had been hoovered, the coffees slurped, the time would have been right – he did one thing that made me change my mind altogether. To be precise, he did two things in quick succession. First, he took off his jumper. Then, he got up to go the toilet.

Oh my word. I should have seen it coming, right? What with the triathlon and all that. But silly little me hadn’t really made a connection.

He was the fittest man on earth. Honestly. When he took off his jumper, I caught a glimpse of his midriff. And his arms were just ridiculously muscular, without looking pumped up. He was very lean, yet incredibly defined. Then he got up and walked away from the table, towards the toilet. Now this is going to sound very wrong... but I couldn’t keep my eyes off his bum. I normally don't perv over men’s bums on a first date, but this was just too good to be true. Just perfect and peachy.

I was still trying to compose myself when he came out of the toilets. We went to settle the bill (which he insisted to pay) and walked out. I was suddenly very aware of his physical presence. We said goodbye and walked away in separate directions.

I was very confused. Our date had been very average and fairly boring at times. I didn’t think there was a spark, or enough common ground, to go for round 2. This is what my head was saying, anyway. My body had very different ideas...

If you want to find out what happens next between me and Hot Cross Buns, come back for part 2! Thanks for reading!

Pupa x

Sunday update

Hello all!

This is just a quick update as I don’t have much time today.

I have a few more fun stories of my past dating disasters (next ones up are McMeerkat and Hot Cross Buns!), but the big news is that I will hopefully start alternating those with current ones, as I’ve signed up for online dating again!

I have put my profile up on three sites – two paid for, and one free. If I do something, I do it properly! There has been some interest and I actually have a date tonight (woot woot!). I will fill in you on that very soon.

Apart from that, life is good. I’m going abroad for a few days next week for a friend's hen do. Very much looking forward to it!! If there are any men to report on, you’ll be the first to know.

For now, I’ll continue rifling through my summer wardrobe.

Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!

Pupa x

My inappropriate weekend revealed

I open my eyes. One at the time, as both feels like too much effort. I survey the room around me. Everything looks unfamiliar. Even with both eyes open, things don’t get any better. To my right there’s a red wall and a Victorian window. I have been hearing trains coming in and leaving every few minutes. I realise it’s the Tube, which must mean I’m in London. 

Something snaps into place. London. I'm in Longshanks’ bed. Cringing inside, I turn my head to the left, slowly. There’s an electric blanket on the bed, but I wonder if that's the only thing that kept me warm last night?

------

Rewind 24 hours. I’m on my way to London. Longshanks and I have decided to meet up. I’ve been invited to stay at his place. Shall I bring a sleeping bag? No, I’m told.

I’ve never been here, but I find the place easily enough. How did we do it before iPhones? I ring the doorbell and he appears. Despite being February, he’s tanned. He also has very long hair and a beard. His blue eyes are piercing amongst all that dark. One word: hot. He hugs me and grabs my overnight bag. I’m a bit wobbly on my legs as we go up the stairs to his flat.

He shows me around and offers me tea and a muffin. I remind him I'm not British. He makes coffee. We sit down, sip our drinks, tell each other we look fab. Then we get changed and go out. I have brought an evening outfit, but we’re heading out at 5pm and staying out. I decide to ditch the heels, as there’s no way I can trudge around London in 4-inch heels for like eight hours. I’m tall enough in my flat boots.

We walk along the South Bank, do a silly little ‘horror tour’ thing, stroll loads and talk even more. It’s like the old days - just I finally know where I stand. We live 150 miles apart. He's not looking for a relationship. He points out a couple of times he’s really happy we stayed in contact and he really values our friendship. We talk about our dating disasters. I open up about my ex boyfriend. His personality is quite different from what I remember. He's insecure and the boldness has gone. He’s not as loud as he was, not as cocky. I get the impression that this is the real him. I like it that he’s being himself.

We grab some food, then go to our show. One of his friends has got a ticket and joins us. He’s a great guy. The 3 of us have a lovely time – it’s like being with old friends. By the end of the show, I’ve had two pints and half a bottle of white wine. (I should point out that I normally don’t do pints). Coming back from the ladies’, I plop down on my seat and inadvertently sit on my neighbour’s hand. She’s not happy. When we leave, I have to lean onto Longshanks’ friend’s arm to get down the staircase. Classy. Thank Heaven I’m in flats.

We move on to a cocktail bar, then to a club. At this point our friend goes home and it’s just us again: Longshanks, I and about a zillion units of alcohol between us. There's this moment when two Italians who're queuing behind us make a string of racist comments, thinking nobody understands. That’s out of order. I turn around and give them The Stare. They shut up. Longshanks is impressed.

The club is packed and apparently the bar is closing shortly, so we grab two drinks each. I can barely handle one. We dance, and Longshanks puts his hands on my waist. It’s probably the alcohol, but suddenly the atmosphere has changed. I swivel to put my empty drink on a table, and he grabs me by the hips. I’m too drunk to react. And it feels nice. I don’t think it surprises either of us when he lifts up my chin and kisses me. I get pushed closer to him by the crowd. He kisses me again. The next few minutes are a bit of a haze, but what I do know is that I have to go to the toilet. When I come back (with bare legs, as I had a massive ladder in my tights), Longshanks is waiting for me, holding my jacket. He grabs my hand and we go catch the night bus.

We have to wait a good 20 minutes, which I reckon saves the night. The fresh air does me a world of good and by the time we get to his place, I feel a lot more normal. I’m shivering though, and he has put his jacket on my shoulders. We go to his bedroom. I let go of his hand and start taking off my jewellery. But Longshanks has other plans.

He grabs me and pulls me towards him. He takes my blazer off and drops it on the bed. Then he picks me up. Literally, like a doll. He’s a big guy, a lot taller than me, and he barely seems to notice my weight. He pulls my mouth to his and wraps my legs around his waist. I won’t remind you that I’m wearing a very short dress, and, at this point, no tights.

There’s only so much of this I can take. It feels really good, but I just don’t want it to happen. I’m feeling remarkably sober at this point, and I just move my face away and say ‘please put me down’.

And that is that. Sorry if this is a bit of a let-down, but somehow I manage to talk him out of it, kiss him goodnight and shut him out of his bedroom before things go any further. And that’s how I get to wake up in his bed, alone, the following morning. There's this moment when he comes back into the bedroom to grab the spare duvet for the sofa and put the electric blanket on for me. At that particular point, I’m prancing around in my underwear taking my make up off with wipes. Almost ends badly again. I guess my willpower is a lot stronger than I think?

In the morning, I fear things might be awkward but they’re not. The atmosphere is relaxed. It turns out neither of us has a hangover (God works in mysterious ways). I’m a hungry hippo and devour the fry-up he cooks for us. No sausages for me though – which quickly turns into a joke. We then go out and spend the afternoon strolling in a park and chatting away. I can’t pick up any tension. Things are just like yesterday afternoon.  

Before I leave, he sits me down and says he had a great weekend. He loves spending time with me. He wants us to be friends. He wants to be able to see me even if I start dating somebody. The physical stuff is great, but it just happens if we both feel like it. Then he kisses me on the mouth before I get off the car.

If that day you saw a tall, Italian-looking girl on the way to Paddington, sporting wild hair and a royally confused look on her face, chances are it was me.

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 5

So that was date 3 with Longshanks. If I hadn’t known what I knew, I’d have thought we were fine. Things seemed to be progressing. We liked each other's company, had a good time together. It’s not that complicated.

While we were parting at the train station on our last date, Longshanks asked me if I was free the following weekend. He was going to stay with a friend in a different city and asked me if I wanted to join him. I said it sounded like fun, and he said he’d check with his friend if it was alright to have a guest and would let me know.

A couple of days passed and I started wondering whether we were going to make plans for the weekend. I felt like I was in a weak position and certainly wasn’t going to start pushing and prodding him so that he’d ask me out again.

Mid-week I received an email from him. I was lounging with Handsome Housemate and picked it up on my phone. I had to make a swift exit as my eyes started filling up with tears. Rejection is an ugly beast!

To summarise, Longshanks had written a very long and sweet message about how he thought we shouldn’t be seeing each other. How he could see that I was putting up with his approach because I liked him, but that if I could have it my way, I would have wanted things to be different. He said I shouldn’t compromise on what I want from a man and he certainly didn't want to be the guy who made me do that. And that I was a beautiful, lovely, smart and fun woman and I could easily find somebody who could give me the whole package, instead of a guy with a foot out of the door.

I sent a short reply, thanking him for the honesty and wishing him all the best.

In hindsight, I'm so glad things went the way they did. I felt pretty low for a couple of days, but quickly picked up.

He's a lovely guy, and I can still see all the reasons why I found him attractive. However, he’s not available for the kind of relationship that I’m looking for, and I have put a big red cross on him. There was a slight incident a few months ago when he invited me to go camping with him. I really wouldn’t have been comfortable sharing a tent and all that. I explained that I had a boyfriend and I wasn’t interested in being friends with benefits. He replied that he knew, and the offer still stood. I politely declined.

We regularly talk by text/Facebook/phone and we also met up twice since we stopped seeing each other. The first time was before Christmas – completely innocuous encounter as I had a boyfriend and we just met for a coffee and a chat. The second time was very recently and things were a tad less innocuous – post on that coming soon!

I also wanted to thank Rapunzel and LifeBegins for following... two of my favourite bloggers :-)

Have a great weekend!

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 4

Handsome Housemate wasn’t happy. Not in the slightest. He’s my friend and doesn’t want to see me hurt, of course. And as such he was being overprotective... or so I kept telling myself. ‘How badly can it affect me if I go and spend a little more time with him? I might just realise he’s not my type anyway and just go off him. If I don’t try, I’ll never know’. By the time I got to this bit of my rambling, Handsome Housemate would have usually left the room. He wasn't having any of it. As usual, everyone from the outside can see things clearly, while the people involved are enveloped in a thick, grey fog.

Grey and foggy was also the weather on our third date. We had settled for a walk in a pretty little village, followed by food and maybe a movie. I went by train, which meant I couldn’t stay too late. When I got to the station, Longshanks was waiting for me in his car. I got in and leant over for a kiss, which I promptly received... on the cheek. Now, I wasn’t going in for a full snog (I do have a bit of decency), but I thought a peck on the lips would have been appropriate. Apparently not so.

I didn’t let that dampen my enthusiasm. We went sightseeing and talked and talked and he had his arm around my shoulders while we walked, which felt nice. We stopped for coffee and I’m sure I’m not making it up that he said he’d renew his National Trust membership so he could take me places. I was starting to relax a little, but I couldn’t really let my guard down.

Back in the car, the weather was quickly worsening and we needed a plan. The best we could come up with was stop to buy some food, then go to his and cook up a storm. After that, everything happened quite quickly.

- Do I like spicy food?

- I sure do.

- Would I like a top up of wine?

- Hell yeah.

- How about a movie after dinner?

- No problem.

- Ach, the DVD player in the living room is inexplicably and conveniently broken. There is another one in my room - shall we crash on the bed?

- Did someone say bed??

So, after having spent a good 6 hours together that day, we found ourselves cuddling on his bed. I had no idea what movie we were watching. One of the main actors had the thickest Irish accent ever, which resulted in me missing every other word. I quickly lost interest and started fidgeting. Suddenly his tongue was in my mouth, and the fidgeting took on an entirely different form.

Now without the need to go into detail, here are a few key facts about the concluding part of our date:

- his bed smelt nice and clean (kudos points).

- there was a very inconvenient cat jumping between us every so often. Not high up in my list of sexual fantasies.

- we didn’t do anything that I would be ashamed of – a few items of clothing were removed and flung off the bed, but I came away with my integrity intact (read: my knickers remained steadily on).

When I realised I had to get a move on to avoid missing the last train, I gathered my belongings and made sure I hadn’t stuffed the cat in my bag. I quickly checked myself in the hallway mirror before leaving and can confirm I had the worn look of somebody who’s spent way too long rolling in bed with make up on. We joked about it.

Longshanks escorted me to the train station and off I went. With one massive, ever-expanding question mark in my head.

And just to be clear, none of my sexual fantasies include animals. Thanks for reading!

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 3

So date 2 with Longshanks had come to a rushed end. I didn't really have an answer to his disappointing question, and just sat there staring at him. Not exactly the confident, strong image I was trying to portray. More rabbit in the headlights. As I wasn’t saying anything, my date started amassing a ridiculous amount of information on how he wasn’t sure whether he felt like committing, what with the distance and whatnot, plus he had vague plans of travelling and such, accompanied by a general desire to escape his routine. Ah, the joy.

Now, this didn’t come like a complete surprise. He had mentioned travelling during our long talks. He had also mentioned how he had not been single for long after the end of a long-term relationship, and how he felt like he needed something different. I guess I was hearing the words but I wasn’t really registering the message. My brain would just convert this to ‘we’ll go travelling together’ and ‘I’ll be the novelty you need to shake up your routine and make your life exciting again’.

My ass.

Therefore date 2 was hastily concluded with the first bit of awkwardness between us: he said he’d better go as he had a longish drive in front of him, and also he wanted to give me some time and space to think.

Ouch. I spent the rest of that evening taking it out on the kitchen – the place needed a good scrub, anyway – and ruminating over Longshanks’ words. He had been fairly clear, and quite honest. He couldn’t promise much. He didn’t know where his life was heading. Maybe he wanted to move away, maybe he wanted to travel. He certainly wanted to do something new with his life. All of which would certainly mean hanging out with women, but probably not yours truly.

I was faced with a dilemma: make a swift exit while I was still unscathed and be thankful that he had been relatively honest with me? Or decide to hang around and fall deeper, which would inevitably mean more pain at some point down the line? I can now see clearly that I was driven by sheer lust and physical attraction. How can you possibly fall for somebody who’s giving you none of the right signals? I’m not that naïve and I didn’t believe for one second that I could change his mind or convince him that I was worth sticking around or whatever else. I simply wanted to be with him, just for that little bit longer.

I was still very unsure of what to do and how to face communication with him, when I received a text from him early the following week. I was out for a run and I remember stopping to check my phone and my heart beating that bit faster when I saw it was him – although I could also blame that on the uphill bit I had just conquered. The text didn’t mention us, a potential date or anything in particular. It was just a funny remark at something he’d just seen on the street. It could have been addressed to anybody... but somehow I took it as a sign that he wanted to talk. In hindsight, I think my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

I skipped back home and flung myself into my room. Technically my run wasn’t finished, but the hell with that. I dialled his number and tried to sound all cool and relaxed. If he asked, I decided I’d blame the shaky tone to exercise-induced shortness of breath. Yeah, right.

We had a bit of banter about general stuff, work, pushing yourself to going for a run after a long day in work, our respective weeks and such. Then I suddenly found myself mentioning our last date. How I had been thinking about what he said. How I was cool with just hanging out for a while and see how things went. How there was no reason for things to get serious and committed and exclusive just yet.

Yep, I said that.

I openly and unsolicitedly declared that I was happy for him to go out with me and also with any other girl of his choice. Oh dear. I hung up with a feeling of exhilaration. I had just bagged myself a third date with the man of my dreams. In return, I might have just given away my integrity, pride, and potentially my mental health.

I don’t even like sharing food. Or office stationery. How was I ever going to be cool dating somebody who was clearly up for a game and a laugh, and nothing more? There was only one thing for me to do. 

Buy new underwear.

Pupa x

Longshanks – part 2

Here I am with the second instalment of the Longshanks’ saga. Hope you enjoy!

After our first date, Longshanks and I kept in touch by text and email. He also had an open profile on Facebook (crazy fool!), which allowed me to stalk him sneak a peek into his private life. What can you do? A girl has to be equipped with background info! He seemed very genuine, fun and confident, without being cocky or arrogant. I was quickly developing the biggest crush for this guy.

At some point mid-week he asked me if I was free that Saturday. Turns out he was coming nearish to me the evening before to stay with some family, which meant he could come to me on Saturday morning. I remember being in work and going into an absolute frenzy. He wanted to see me again, and he was coming to me! Surely that was too good to be true. Handsome Housemate suggested I’d calm down. I suggested he’d start looking for a new housemate as at this rate, I'd be moving in with this man any time soon ;-)

So on Saturday around lunchtime, after a morning spent making the house and myself look presentable, I was playing Scrabble with Handsome Housemate when Longshanks rang my doorbell. I was losing by a mile anyway, as I couldn’t concentrate. I let him in, made the introductions, and went to pick up a vase for my flowers.

That’s right. Flowers. Did this guy have any flaws at all? I was so taken. It wasn’t cheesy, and they weren’t roses or anything over the top, just a bunch of colourful stuff which said ‘I like you, and I want to see you smile’. Handsome Housemate came over to the sink while I was cutting the stems and winked at me. Seal of approval! I’ll elaborate on that another time, but he tends to meet most of my dates and is normally fairly critical. Not so this time!

Anyway, I took my date’s arm and off we went, for the long walk I had planned. We got to this lovely little place in the early afternoon, where we had food and a couple of drinks in the beer garden. We talked, we listened, we joked and at one point he told me I looked beautiful, which sent my head for a spin for at least half an hour. At around 6pm it was decided that he was to come back to mine for a bite to eat before he’d set off.

Back at my pad, with Handsome Housemate conveniently out, I gave Longshanks a tour of the house before making us some fodder. I rustled up some pasta while he serenaded me. That’s correct. He had found Handsome Housemate’s guitar and had started playing away and singing... You’re probably thinking it was incredibly cheesy. And maybe it was a bit. But he obviously knew what he was doing and it was just so much fun. I should clarify here that I’d rather poke myself repeatedly in the eye with a chopstick than sing; therefore I just stood there listening, smiling and checking I wasn't cremating the food.

After dinner we moved over to the sofas, me with a second glass of Italian white wine and him with a fizzy water, as he was driving. We had barely sat down and put the fire on, and I was still contemplating whether having TV on in the background was a wise move, or if it'd give the message I was bored or didn’t want to talk to him. This issue was swept out of sight when he grabbed my arm while I was getting up and said: “I really want to kiss you”. 

Uh.

I don’t know my British etiquette very well yet, and to be honest I don’t even know if there are rules for this type of situation. What do you say to that? “That’s very kind of you, thank you”. “Of course sir, go ahead and kiss me!” My brain just wasn’t coming up with anything useful. I sat back on the sofa, smiling, probably looking like a dumbass, for what felt like ages. Then he leant forward and kissed me. It was nice, and felt right, and all that. The kissing soon developed into a full-on snog. So what? The curtains were closed. I liked this guy. I felt it was fine. There was this moment when he came up for air to ask me if I was ok – potentially referring to his hand sneaking up my top. I was. After a while, we decided to calm down, sat back and smoothed our clothes down.

I was still smiling inside when I heard the words: “What are we going to do now?”. Thoughts were forming in my head, of the ‘we-meet-again-soon-and-do-all-this-again’ variety. Before I could formulate any of this out loud, I heard him say: “Are you going to take care of yourself?”

Uh-oh. Massive black clouds at the horizon. Take care of myself?. As in, make sure I brush my teeth and eat my 5-a-day? I have been doing that for quite a while before meeting you, Longshanks. What’s that supposed to mean?

I’ll leave the rest for part 3 – see you soon!

Pupa x