Rollercoaster Ride
As ya’ll know, and are sick to damn death hearin’ about it I am sure, but too polite to say so, I am now effectively divorced.
As of last week that is. And yep, last week was up there with my mother’s terminal brain tumour dying in the living room with the cat on the bed week.
I smoked entirely too many cigarettes and got very little sleep.
But despite this and sporting some the biggest black circles under my eyes I have ever seen (thank God for YSL Touche Eclat, thank God I tell you, I am getting through about a stick of it a week and that is on top of the lawyer’s fees at £600 an hour!), I had the best damn date on Friday night and it wasn’t with Sexy Northern either!
Now for some reason, I didn’t learn my lesson with Beautiful Boy (understatement of the year, stop laughing ya’ll!!!), yes, I have been sort of, kind of seeing someone under the age of 25.
Of course he is very good looking, very bright and will be a very successful doctor one day. However, for the 3rd time in a row he has not saved his allowance to buy drinks on Friday night and offered to cook me a meal at home and watch a film instead.
Charming, and I am sure he is a good cook, but honestly, after 10 years of spending Friday nights at home eating filet steak and having a bottle of red wine in front of a DVD with Mr. Magnolia, this is exactly what I DO NOT WANT from one of my toyboys.
I want to go dancing. Bowling. Playing pool. In a word, PARTYING.
So, I text him back late Friday afternoon and say, lovely offer, but no and, although I didn’t tell him, he’s all done. And, harsh though it may sound, I deleted him from my phone.
There is just no point.
And dang, if that old saying ain’t true, that sometimes when you let something go it makes room for something better…and I did something I never do, I went out on a last minute date.
Ya’ll know me pretty well by now, and also know that not many boys make the cut. This is something I just don’t do. A categorically huge no, no in my little book of dating (very small book as this is like what week 4?) and much more substantial book of networking.
But, at the same time, I just had this gut feel to go for it.
Mr. Magnolia had the toeheads for the weekend and thanks to Baby Doctor suggesting a cosy night in (NOT), I was free.
In the scope of the next 40 years of my life, was there anything to lose?
Hell no!
(But! I did text my best guy friend to tell him what I was up to just in case the guy was a devastatingly gorgeous axe murderer.)
Three hours later, I walked into this achingly hip bar in the West End and saw him.
Take me now sweet Jesus. Illegal amounts of charisma. The boy should be arrested.
Good decision, oh yes, good decision. About 3 minutes into the date I knew it was going to be out of this world. You know, out of this world like the feeling you get stepping onto a massive roller coaster. You’re a little bit scared, but you want the head rush anyway.
So you fasten your seat belt and let your heart start racing.
And it feels so damn good and you really don’t care if it last 6 minutes or 6 hours or 6 days.
After a few liquor drinks and then a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, I could tell he needed to move on – he is the kinda person that doesn’t do idle. Takes one to know one.
I suggested a change of venue. Somewhere to go dancing.
We hailed a cab and before I could even lean back in my seat he had my face in his hands kissing me. I could smell a hint of sandalwood from this cool wooden bracelet he was wearing.
Did I say good decision?
Hmmmm, more like excellent decision.
Ms. Magnolia
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