…and One Boyfriend…
So I’ve not been on here for about a week, I’ve been knee-high in serious research (which for this site is mostly drinking with men.) After my encounter with Mr Noodle-Dick I’ve been put off the random penis for the past two weeks, which naturally meant I was destined to find my future husband (my life is a shitty rom-com).
Last week a friend of mine dragged me out, he’s been settled down for a year so naturally is calling old friends to escape his domestic bliss. I cobbled together an outfit which suggested I was single but also thoroughly happy that way (If your going to lie to yourself, you might as well dress-up that way too). Frumpy jumper in tow, I went into the night…
We met with a group of people who all have vague and sometimes ‘personal’ connections with each other, its the sort of group I like to be around for the drama but will never partake in the communal penis’s (peni? peenies?). As much as I love hearing; ‘Yeah, when we had sex he liked being pissed on too,’ being slipped into conversation about someone’s boyfriend, I don’t think I ever want that person to be me…
There is however one guy there who I would bend the rules for, we’ll call him Bruce (I spent a good ten minutes and that is the only name I came up with that wasn’t from star trek). Bruce has quite a few characteristics I like; quiet, sarcastic, drinks and has tattoos that don’t quite make sense (I wont be specific in case they ever see this, but lets just say its not your usual ‘Mum’ in a love heart).
Bruce and the gang have never really been on my radar (to quote Britney Spears), mostly because I used to use them as my sounding board after encounters like Noodle-Dick, and hence don’t expect they would be particularly interested in little old me (although, in hindsight after hearing all the pissing stories, maybe I’m selling myself short?). One of them is quite handsy when he’s drunk (we’ll call him Handsy) but I let that slide because he is really complimentary when he dose it. Also I’m an emotional prostitute… no money needed, just tell me my eyes ‘Sparkle‘
Anyway Mr marital bliss was desperate to go clubbing and drink tequila shots (another thing I like in a guy) so I started my goodbyes with handsy and Bruce, I’d just told them about limp-dick and was ready to run. Now picture the scene, I’m frumpily downing my drink, I lean in to cheek kiss Bruce, he whispers something bitchy about Mr Married in my ear… then SUDDENLY JUMPS on my mouth…
Now I’m a firm believer of Cher’s: ‘Shoop Schoop Song‘ and it really is, in his kiss. Recently so many men seem to kiss like face huggers, and I do not want any man to taste the back of my crappy tonsils. On the other end of the spectrum are the ‘Porn Kissers’, which is less kissing then a chance to show your tongues dexterity without your lips touching… its basically an aerial tongue show and my mouth is your gym mat.
This was neither of those hells, I could breathe but our lips were touching, his tongue made it into my mouth but didn’t assault my lungs… Suddenly Bruce had become a viable dating option (I know I should consider personality etc, but as I said, Rom-Com rules… a good kiss is basically an invite to our wedding).
I left the bar feeling great, I don’t need a man’s validation for happiness, but I also don’t need to be lonely to feel great either. I did go dancing with Mr Married (and drank lots of tequila) but the date portion of my evening had firmly closed. I’m not the sort of person who likes to lose momentum with these things, so rather then wait 6 to 8 weeks for a text I took matters into my own hands and invited him to dinner…
…Well maybe not then… Apologies don’t scream ‘lets not wear clothes, maybe spend some time doing that together’ but more ‘…you have a, great… person..al… space policy’
Anyway I’m working on that one guys, I do have some more updates on Bruce but the title promised two kisses and I’ve only given you one. I’ll cut off here for now, after all I love cliff-hangers more than cheap prostitutes, but I’ll put up part two (with the terrible kiss) tomorrow so you don’t feel shafted (don’t worry, I wasn’t shafted either).
Emotional Level: High then very dejected, like Lindsey Lohan’s career prospects
Cigarettes: A marked increase since the weekend
Dates: One awful barbecue (details to follow)
Exercise: I put the shower on extra hot to try and burn off some fat