We’ve Been Talking For Six Days…

I’m in a deliriously good mood today and I don’t really know why. I’m not complaining obviously, but after waking up and realising the housemates had left a right mess for me to clean up first thing in the morning for the fourth day in a row, I decided the only thing to do was to put my headphones on, crank up the music, and dance my troubles away.

So I did. In my pants.

Starting with ‘Light It Up’ – Major Lazer feat. Nyla & Fuse ODG.

I realised my date with Someone New on Thursday had been pretty disastrous. We walked and talked, he introduced me to his new pooch, and we went for a couple of drinks (non-boozy) before I went home. The date itself was pretty epic. The reason it was disastrous is because it didn’t feel like a date. I wasn’t excited. I wanted to see him but not because I wanted to rip his clothes off. He’s familiar, a friend. He’s not the guy I want to date. He’s not the guy I see myself ending up with. He’s so lovely and he’s trying really hard for me, for us, but it’s not clicking. It hasn’t clicked. And now I’m pretty sure I’ve friend-zoned him. The problem we had last year is still there. He’s still not the right guy for me. So now I need to break his heart a second time.

Excellent work girl. Well played! Pfffft.

Now, ‘Lush Life’ – Zara Larsson.

This is my current happy song. I can’t help but dance around with a gormless smile on my face whenever it comes on.

I’ve met someone on Tinder who I think actually has actual potential to be someone I actually want to meet.  Actually, actually.

(He’s so eloquent… I kinda ‘dig’ it!)

We’ve been talking for six days, we exchanged numbers very early on, and we talk until 4am every day, mostly keeping it clean with the odd slip into something a little friskier. He’s a gentleman and has “never taken a picture of his penis“, and doesn’t want nude photos of me because he wants to unwrap me slowly.

He calls me kitten. No one’s ever called me that before and I fucking love it. He’s 12 years older than me, lives somewhere I’ve never heard of 40 miles away, and has three grown up kids. He’s tattooed and also has what appears to be the perfect ‘dad-bod’. Muscles in all the right places because of years of manual labour, with a little hint of a belly that’s begging for me to blow raspberries on it when we lie in bed together on lazy Sundays.

That look just really does it for me. I’m not into Mr. Muscles. I want the dad-bod. Throw in some rugby-player thighs and I’ll basically come running at you, twirling my panties above my head. Oh, and if you could have a Scottish accent with some (preferably gingeresque) facial hair, that wouldn’t go amiss either. It’s my birthday soon. Just saying. I deserve a treat this year. That’s what I want.

He’s tall. A “strapping lad”. Hairy too, facial hair bordering somewhere in-between stubble and beard. He can and does look smart on occasion but generally kicks around in skate-gear. I’ve found myself the 42 year old skater boy… (Another one!)

But he’s distracting. He has my attention. Whatever I’m doing isn’t important when my phone pings and it’s his name on the screen. Physically, he definitely does it for me. Well, from what I’ve seen so far anyway (too many videos and texts on both sides). And he’s expressed his views on my look… a lot. He’s a cheeky chappy who isn’t squeaky clean, and holy crap can he make me laugh. He can also make me flush beetroot red with just a single message.

Now, ‘I Took a Pill in Ibiza’ – Mike Posner.

I cannot get enough of this song right now. It reminds me of his old song, ‘Cooler Than Me’ which came out back when I lived on the other side of the world with Big Love.

Coming back this new guy, I’m eight years older than his eldest son. Fuck. I’m closer to his son’s age than his. Is that a problem? Should it be a problem? He says it won’t be. He’s dated a younger girl before and it wasn’t a problem. We’ll come back to this. I can’t work out if this is a deal-breaker for me.

Now, ‘Too Close’ – Alex Clare.

His proposal: He comes to me, we meet, have coffee, break the ice and chat. We hang out, walk and talk, see if that connection is there in person. We hang out a little more after that but then one weekend, I’m his. Just his. For the entire weekend, no distractions, no restrictions. I go to his and I give him just me. He’s intrigued by my mind and now he wants to get lost in my body. He can be quite poetic for someone so not poetic at all.

(*I’ve got over the stage where I want to correct his messages.)

And that’s where we’re at. He’s “obsessed” with me and I’m a little “obsessed” with him. The seemingly perfect dirty gentleman.

We’ve decided to meet on Wednesday…