Tinder Bingo. Winning.

Ok, I’m back. Hopefully properly this time. Things are still mental with the book and life in general, but really, I just need to stop being so shit at updating this blog! Whoops!

Whirlwind catch up:

The Musician – over and done with. Was definitely a travelling only thing, but we’re still in touch and spoke a couple of days ago. Friends, but that’s it.

Mr Music’s best mate – Yeah. I went there. Things with Mr Music are in a good place, we’re actually acting like friends. I’ve moved about 20mins away from him and we’ve had some good nights out, one culminating in me pulling his mate. Ah well. We had a debrief about it, all good fun and not at all awkward.

As the blog post title suggests, I’ve signed up to Tinder. Man, it is ADDICTIVE! Seriously. So far I’ve had two dates:

Rastaman – bit of a trustafarian but fit as. Was only one date though and I never heard back from him. Poo.

Pastry Chef – French. Obvs. We were seeing each other for like 2 weeks, but I put the kibbosh on it yesterday. He’s super lovely, but ultimately too lovely and there was just something missing. Plus, he seemed to have a bit of an arse fixation. And I don’t mean just looking at it.

So, I’m back in Tinder land, though it’s really just as a bit of fun as opposed to using it for actual dating. My housemate and I invented Tinder Bingo. The rules are, there aren’t any rules. You widen your search ratio and hit 1 in 3 people. The first to 99 matches wins. Beyond fun – you should try it! As a resut, I’m chatting to someone I’ll call Banter Boy, because we’ve been engaged in tennis style banter since we started chatting. Actually hilarious. Oh, and Tattoo Man. Not sure I fancy him though. Turns out, I’m following his exceptionally hot model brother on Twitter. Hehehe.

What else? Ah, yes. Mini Man, who actually isn’t mini at all. I was just so drunk when we met that I somehow thought he was short. Turns out he’s a bit taller than me. I met him with a friend I’ll call Miss Wayward, since she seems to degenerate me a bit. So much so we ended up going back to Mini Man’s friend’s house at 4am, wasted, with 4 of his mates. Highly reckless but ultimately much fun. I met up with them all at the weekend and they’re all super lovely. Mini Man is also cool and funny, and taking me on a date on Saturday.

That’s it for now. Breezing update, but shall actually update properly from now on! Naughty Freechick!


The wanderer returns

I’m back! And I have let my blog fall to pieces…..in a nutshell – it was awesome. Beyond awesome. Loved every minute of it 🙂

But now, well, the truth is, I don’t really know how much more I’ll be blogging. Things have taken off with my book after putting it on Kindle – it’s currently in the top 100 romance chart – nuts. So, yeah. It’s a bit busy with things but I will be back at some point.

I’ve got soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many blog posts to catch up on it’s ridiculous. Hope I’m up to speed soon!


How did that happen?


Yes, I’m still here. I haven’t abandoned my blog! In truth, I’ve been beyond busy, and then I changed phones and didn’t set up my email notifications properly, so it wasn’t until yesterday that I saw the, frankly, phenomenal amount of emails in my inbox. Sigh. Anyway, even if I *had* been updating my blog, there wouldn’t have been much to tell! At least not on the boy front.

In my last post I said I wanted to take a break from men-folk for a while and I meant it. Aside from meeting The Greek once or twice for complete no-strings fun, I’ve been a very good girl indeed. I’ve been too busy sorting out the next phase of my life anyway.

I handed in my resignation two weeks ago – I’m going to Goa, just like I said I would. In little over 2 weeks time, I’ll be on a one way flight to Mumbai with nothing other than my backpack and the promise of sunshine waiting on the other end. I’m beyond excited, but I’ve been so busy and stressed with work that I don’t feel like I’ve had much time to really plan or think about it. My plan consists of land, jump in a cab to Arambol and then find somewhere to stay. And meet up with The Musician at some point. More on him later. So, yeah. That’s me. I still have a list of things I need to buy/sort out, like travel insurance, pick up my prescription for malaria tablets and stuff, but I’m ready (ish). Got my passport, currency card and visa. Gulp.

I can’t tell you the relief of knowing my days in that office are on the count down. I had my leaving drinks on Thursday and I got a bit emotional. I’ve made some wicked friends and I’ll miss seeing them all the time, but I can’t cope with the work anymore. It makes me want to smash my own head in. I want to draw and write and chill. Oh yes, on that subject, I’ve decided my book will go on Kindle on March 1st. Now that’s scary. I’ve hired an editor and now I’m trying to sort out a book cover. I had no idea it would be quite so time consuming!

So, The Musician. He’s in Goa at the moment. We’ve been speaking still, more or less daily until he left. He doesn’t have internet where he’s staying, so he’s been coming online to say hi once a week or so from the internet cafe. He still seems excited to see me – the promise of food (I have to send a list of what I like to make it easier for him to know what to make since it turns out I’m really quite fussy – who knew) and lots of talk about things to get up to generally. It’s nice to know there’s someone there who I know, and yes I do like him, but for once, I’m not thinking about things *like that*.

Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I miss you guys and I’ll catch up with you all soon. I’m taking the laptop with me, but I don’t know how often I’ll be updating my blog – or when I’ll be back exactly.

For those of you who I actually speak to on a regular (or regularly-ish), if you want to keep in touch then send me an email or leave a comment (email preferably) and if you’re on Facebook we can connect there. Or via my real Twitter account. Until the next time….parting is such sweet sorrow 😉

Have a nice Christmas everyone!


Re-assimilation sucks. So why do it?

So, I’m back. In fact I’ve been back for about 3 weeks now. It sucks. I miss the sunshine, I miss the food, I miss the friends I made. I miss not having to wake up to an alarm every day. I miss the peace and quiet. These statements should covey the fact that I had an AWESOME time. Just brilliant – so much better than I ever expected it to be, and I had a lot of time to think about what I want and all that big stuff. Having to come back to a job that bores me is not my idea of fun. So, it’s been a pretty busy few weeks.

First off, I’ve picked up my art again, and I’m loving it. So much so that I’m actually gonna try and sell some. Why not? See how it goes…if other people can do it then I can at least try. It seems a shame for them to just sit in my sketchbooks in my wardrobe for the rest of their days and it’s not like I’m expecting to become a millionaire or anything with them. So far, the feedback from my social circle has been good, so we’ll see if they’re all talking bullshit soon. The proof is in the pudding, as they say.

Second, and perhaps, the biggest piece of news, is that I’m planning another trip. Woohoo! This week I will be booking a ticket to Goa, to leave in January. I’ve put in my 6 month career break application but I’ve already told my boss that I’m going, even if it’s rejected. I was hugely inspired by the people I met in France (and yes, one was a man, but nothing to go into really as yet). I met a lot of people who were doing the very things I’ve always wanted to do. They did what they loved all day, and travelled while doing it. I’m not a musician and while I like to draw, I’m yet to be convinced I could call myself an artist, but the travelling aspect was what got me. They live in Goa (some in Varanassi) in winter and when I sighed and said ‘I’d love to go there’, one of them asked ‘what’s stopping you?’

I couldn’t really answer it. Ok, so I have a job, a well paid job at that. And friends, and family. But otherwise I have no boyfriend/husband/children/mortgage. The only thing stopping me was myself. I thought about it for a while, but it wasn’t until I got back to London that I made my mind up. Being back at work feels like I’m destroying my soul. Sounds dramatic, but it’s true. If it was a job I was passionate about (or simply not bored of) then I’m sure the reaction would be much less acute, but this is my situation. My debts are very nearly all paid off, and I have the offer of paid, remote admin work a day or two a week while I’m away from Mr Arrogant, so I should still have some income. Other than that, I’ve not planned much at all. I planned to the nth degree in France and it didn’t go according to plan in some aspects – but it made it so much more fun and flexible. And for a control freak like me, it will be a good exercise in being a bit more relaxed with the security of knowing there are people that I know in the same country at least.

So, yeah. That’s my news. On the man front, there is the guy I mentioned earlier, with whom nothing happened but I’ve been chatting to ever since. Sometimes for 12 hours straight or more about all sorts of things – not least stuff to get me excited about my trip (they’ll be there from December). It’s kind of nice to just take a step back from the men-folk though. I don’t want anyone or anything to hold me back.

Exciting times.


The cheating frenchman and violence in Marseille

Well, as the title suggests, events took an ugly turn this week. Since I had a couple of days free, I texted The Frenchman. We made plans for me to take the trip to Marseille, not far from where I am, and I’d get to see the sights I hadn’t seen yet, crash on his sofa and then head back the next morning.

I woke up at the crack of dawn and made my way there. We had a great day, too. After wandering around the port, we took a boat out to Le Pointe Rouge, a tiny beach, and had lunch before sunbathing and taking a dip in the sea. It was nice. Not at all awkward, just two mates hanging out. It was almost to easy, I thought. Since the boat back only ran once an hour, and was full, we decided to take the bus instead after stopping for some ice-cream. As we got near to his apartment, my phone rang, one of my French friends from London calling to see how I was.

As we approached the apartment building, some woman comes up to The Frenchman and starts going off on one. I turned by back for a minute and walked away, to tell my friend I’d call him back later. The next thing I knew, I got hit over the head, my head banged into the concrete wall and blood started pouring from my nose. It was the first time I’d ever been hit and I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to do. I don’t even know what happened, but all I could see was The Frenchman getting whacked over the head as he tried to restrain this crazy woman. One of his neighbours had come down and asked if I was ok, and then I just burst into tears. He hadn’t told me he had a new girlfriend, and I couldn’t understand why she was laying into me. What happened next was a good 10 minutes of her trying to get at me, telling me to ‘take my plane and leave’ while I’m trying to avoid her coming at me again. She’s been with him since last July, she said. I said I didn’t know anything about her, to which she replied she knew everything about me. She even started reciting some of the stuff me and The Frenchman had said via email. What the actual fuck?? She asked if I was there in November and February, and I said yes. And then she hit the Frenchman again. She shouted that I needed to leave because I was only there to have sex with him. Erm, no. When she asked why not, I said ‘I ended it, so why would I want to have sex with him now?’ She then went wild again, in French, and what I got from that was that he’d told her that he was the one to end it, not me, and this was supposed to have happened in January. Then she asked if I’d sent him an email confirming when we’d split up. I said no, and she hit him again – and said she knew the email she’d seen wasn’t from me. She eventually left and when The Frenchman came over to see if I was alright, I told him to leave me alone. Fair enough, he’d tried to restrain her and calm down, but the fact was that I’d just got attacked in the middle of the street with cars slowing down to take a look and people staring out of their windows and over their balconies. After staying downstairs for a while, crying my eyes out on the phone, I went up to his apartment (where my stuff was) and cleaned myself up before demanding he pour out some rum. I was shaking like a leaf with the adrenaline.

‘What the fuck was that?’ I asked, and demanded he be honest. So, he told me. She’s his new girlfriend and they’ve been together since April this year, but he’s been sleeping with her since last July. He doesn’t love her, he said, and so obviously this is more serious for her than it is for him. He’s been sleeping with her roughly every 2 weeks. His reason? 

‘Because I’m an arsehole and a liar.’

‘Not acceptable,’ I said.

He said he found it difficult to be away from me, and needed someone near him for sex. He found the distance hard. I told him that was absolute bullshit, I’d have seen him as often as he wanted. The reason we saw each other so rarely was down to him – he knew how I felt about him and yet he still let it go on after we’d established we were in a relationship. He said he was afraid to tell me because he didn’t want to lose me and he thought for a long time we could have really been together. I just shook my head and reminded him that at the start, when I met Mr Grey, I was honest with him. There was no reason for him to keep it from me, and moreover, if he’d have been honest about sleeping with her from the start, I’d not have let myself get so attached to him, if I’d have met up with him at all. At least I’d have known it was only a casual thing. Apparently, she’d found our Whatsapp message trail in June and demanded he have no more contact with me, which he apparently agreed to. She hasn’t trusted him since then and because he didn’t answer the phone when she rang earlier in the day, she must have been suspicious enough to come round to his apartment.

I asked about the fake email and he told me he’d created a fake account, and emailed it, asking me to confirm when we’d split up. He apparently didn’t save the email so I couldn’t read it, but he ‘wasn’t proud’ of what he’d done. I told him that if he’d have just emailed me, asking me to confirm when we’d split up so he could reassure his new girlfriend, I’d have done it, because we were friends. He said he couldn’t ask me because he’d told her we’d split up in January (bearing in mind he came to London at the end of January) and he didn’t want me to get mixed up in their relationship. I just laughed. I was bloody well involved now. Things started to make sense in my head. He was never around at the weekend, for one, and that message on the fridge I’d blogged about for two. I asked if that message was for her (the one which said, ‘I’m at the post office, my beauty’) and he confirmed that it was. 

I was so, so upset. Not because he’d cheated necessarily, because we haven’t been together for around 6-7 months now, but because he’d lied, over and over again. When he’d told me I was the only woman in his life, when he told me he’d always tried to be honest with me and not to give my trust to someone who doesn’t deserve it, it was all bullshit. I was broken at the fact that this man, who I held in the highest esteem and trusted implicitly turned out to be a complete and utter wanker. And I told him that. I told him he wasn’t the man I thought he was – that I thought he had integrity and he’d made me look a fool all those times people asked how I dealt with the trust issues that come with a long distance relationship because I’d always said I trusted him without a shadow of a doubt. After all, why shouldn’t I have?

I’d told him how difficult it was usually for me to open up about certain things, and  he’d told me how honoured he was that I found it easy to do with him. It took a lot of effort on my end and all he did was abuse it. He didn’t even try not to sleep with someone else. I reminded him that he’d told me he didn’t want a relationship after we split up, and he said he still doesn’t, but she was there and it just ‘happened.’

He apologised (push the boat out why don’t you), saying that I didn’t deserve any of what had happened, it was all his fault and he hated himself for seeing me so upset. Bullshit. He hated the fact he got caught or he wouldn’t have done it, end of. The amount of money I’d spent going to see him etc, he took me for a total mug. I didn’t hide my feelings. Sure, I could have screamed and shouted, and smashed his apartment, but I didn’t. For one thing, thats’ just not me. And for two, I didn’t want to be calm and emotionless. I wanted him to see that he’d hurt me, and know he’d lost someone who would have been a friend for life. 

He apologised again for making me ‘lose time’, to which I replied ‘he should be sorry about lying, cheating and hurting me, not losing time’. Sophie (his girlfriend) had won – she got what she wanted. He disagreed and I pointed out that she’d known about me since June. The only thing that had changed for her was finding out that I was the one to end our relationship, not him, and that we had still been in contact up to that point. For me, everything had changed. The memories I had of him and Marseille, the way I thought of him as a person and the friendship we had was now shattered.

I ended up staying in a hotel (he paid, I demanded he did) and the next morning, I woke up and thought I had black eyes from being hit, I’d been crying so much. Thankfully that wasn’t the case, it was nothing my sunglasses couldn’t hide, apart from the lump which is still there on the side of my head.

He was at the train station, and apologised again, saying I’m a good person and he’s so, so sorry for hurting me, because he knows this was the last time he’d ever see me and he’d lost me.  And he’d never lied to me about how he felt about me. I just nodded, otherwise I’d have cried again, and stiffened when he tried to hug me goodbye. I walked away from him and I didn’t look back.

I needed a couple of days to pass before I wrote this (this happened on Tuesday) because I was just too upset. I hate feeling like I’ve been duped. I hate feeling like every time I dare to trust another human being, they turn out to be totally unworthy. I made things as stress-free as possible, it couldn’t have been any easier for him…and yet…

So, I’m back in Languedoc now, and my hosts know what happened. And they’ve been so lovely. We had a huge barbecue last night and blasted French men – apparently they have a saying that they have less value than a nail you’d hammer into wood because they cannot be trusted.

And now, I feel fine. I’ve blocked him on Facebook and deleted our messages. He can go be a cheating bastard somewhere else, I’m not going to let him ruin my holiday.

Next stop…Languedoc

As I write, I’m sitting in a enormous garden, surrounded by apple, plum and pear trees, a pool, hammocks and a three legged dog. I’ve arrived in Languedoc for my volunteering. But, before I start, at Bogspua’s request, here are some photos I took in Monaco. 





So, after the splendour of Monaco, I’m now in the countryside. After arriving in Nimes on the train, I went to catch a bus to meet my host. Except, because the train was late, I missed the bus by two minutes. No problem, I’ll jump in a taxi – the next bus wasn’t for an hour and my host would be at the bus stop to meet me. Sitting in the taxi, we soon caught up to the sodding bus and since there were no stops betwen Nimes and my destination, I sat watching the meter run while the bus passengers sat having paid only 1.5euros for the trip. Oh, the irony. When I finally arrived, I had to stop at the cash machine to pay the driver. Only, the cash machine wasn’t working. Nor was the next one, or the next. After running around the town, I finally found a working machine, paid the driver and jumped into my hosts car, apologising profusely for the delay. Not the best of starts. Oh well.

In any event, she’s lovely and as she drove us to her house, I sat back and took in the scenery.


The downside? Spiders. Fuck me, the spiders. One as big as my palm jumped out of the sink at me. I’ve been attached to the hoover since I got here, I must have sucked up around 70 in the 2.5 days I’ve been here! But it’s been ace so far. I’ve helped change over the gite in preparation for their next guests, got my fingers green by doing a spot of gardening, picking fruits to make into jam, and prepared dinner using the many, many vegetables growing outside. Earlier, I took a walk and explored the local countryside with my host’s three legged dog. He’s an absolute peach, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed with just the sound of the breeze in the trees and horses whinnying in the fields around me. Sigh.

It’s quite busy here though. Lots of friends coming and going (all of whom are lovely) and my host’s daughter is here from Australia. Her husband and 3 friends are coming at the weekend for 2 weeks, and there’ll be a massive garden party to celebrate their wedding.

I’m looking forward to it. The characters around here are colourful to say the least. A bit eccentric, tattoos, piercings, not at all what I would have expected. As is my host. The first morning here I woke up and could have sworn blind I smelled mary jane. But of course not, that would be silly right? Erm, no. I swear she smokes about 3 joints a day and has a huge amount of if in the garden. Like I say, she’s pretty cool. But the work is hard. I’m dog tired writing this right now, albeit happy.




I left my heart in Monaco…

Ah, what bliss! I’m in France – woohoo!! It’s been bloody fantastic so far, I have to say. The flight was good, apart from a particularly rough take-off. I’m not the best flyer in the world but when the whole plane gasps aloud as the plane jolts back down a few feet it’s very un-nerving. I made it to Nice in one piece though, and met up with the lady who’s apartment I’ve rented for the week. It’s lovely, in the Musician’s Quarter about a 7 minute walk from the beach. Right now, I’m sitting out on the balcony in the late afternoon sun – it doesn’t get much better.

I’ve found it quite nice being in my own company, and I’ve been speaking French every day. I negotiated my way to Grasse on the train alone, strolling around the tiny maze like streets and soaking in the atmosphere. I’d wanted to go ever since I saw Perfume: Story of a Murder (not because of the story but because it looked so beautiful). I did rather imagine at least a few fields of lavender around but no. Still, it was a lovely little place. On Wednesday night, I went t a restaurant for dinner, the first time since i’d arrived as I’d bought supplies from a nearby supermarket. I’d had lunch alone, no problem, but not dinner. Not even in London. And, you know what? It was fine. More than fine, in fact, it was great. I chatted to the waiters, ate a good dinner and watched the world go by, and there were a few lone diners dotted about so I didn’t feel out of place. Wednesday also happened to be a bank holiday, one of the most important in France, so it was absolutely heaving! Over dinner, fireworks were let off across the bay and as I walked back to the apartment in the middle of the road along with hundreds of thousands of other people, I had the goosebump moment:

This was actually for real. I was really in France after months of planning. And I felt immensely proud. Ok, so travelling to a neighbouring country and dining alone might not be the most difficult thing to do, but for me, it was epic. I went home with a smile on my face.

Yesterday, I went to Monaco – possibly the beautifullest place I’ve been to yet. I absolutely adored it. As soon as I stepped off the train and walked down to the port, my jaw dropped open and it stayed that way all day.


I’ve never been a fan of yachts. I don’t like being out at sea and I just didn’t see the point of them. I do now. These things were amazing, like actual houses on water. The size of some of them took my breath away and with Rolls Royce’s and Bentley’s parked up outside them, it made me wonder just how rich you have to be to own one. A lot of them were marked as being from Georgetown and when I saw a family just chilling, having lunch (including a boy of about 3), it just brought it home how different my world was to this one. For the rest of the day, I wandered around Monte-Carlo and ogled at the Lamborghini’s, Ferrari’s and Maserati’s parked up outside the casino. I took lunch in Cafe de Paris and eavesdropped on the conversation of my neighbours (very yah dahling, I’m going to take the chopper to the Amalfi Coast tomorrow) and then went to wander around the exotic gardens in the royal palace. Literally every angle made me sigh with pleasure. It was so beautiful, so clean, so peaceful, so…everything. And the fact it cost only 7 euros to get there was the icing on the cake.

So, my sightseeing is done for the week. It’s really tiring walking up and down hills all day in the sweltering heat. Even first thing in the morning is ridiculously warm and I’ve tanned to within an inch of my life.

But, I am loving it. On Monday, I start my volunteering in Languedoc…I’m excited to meet my hosts and get down to some work!


Leaving on a jet plane

Eeek! So, tomorrow morning, I fly out to the south of France where I’ll be until the end of September. Shitting it isn’t the word! I’m super excited, but nervous. It’s the first time I’ll have been away by myself and although I’ll be volunteering and things for the most part, next week will be a proper beach holiday on my lonesome. I will still have internet access though, so I’m hoping to be able to keep in touch with my cyber world!

So, what else. Things are finito with The Greek. I put an end to it when I found out he was approaching another girl from our Facebook uni group. It’s not so much that he was doing that, it was more that he was doing it at the very same time he was asking me for help with his assignment and I was giving it to him when I should have been doing my own. It’s all very complicated and full of ‘he doesn’t know that I know our mutual friend knows about us’ type things, but I didn’t tell him I’d found out about him and this other woman. Instead, I just told him it wasn’t working for me because I know what I’m like and I’ll just end up getting hurt. His reply?

“Hahaha, yeah ok 🙂 “

Hmmmm. Arse. So that’s the end of him. He seems to have fallen out of favour in our group in general it would appear. The past two weekends have been outstanding – out Friday and Saturday nights, lots of flirting, including with a 23 year old who turned out to have some kind of terminal liver disease. That put the stop on any flirtatious behaviour. And last night, I made friends with a nice Spaniard (friend of a new friend). Extraodinarily hot and in Barcelona the same time I might be there next week. 

So much for a rest from the men-folk!


When things happen that aren’t supposed to happen

So, yeah. I kind of like The Greek a bit. This wasn’t meant to happen. I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to be attracted to him. He’s not tall enough, too young, too slutty, too flirty, too everything. It’s not so bad – I mean I’m not spending my days imagining us together forever and ever amen. Yet. Sigh. The problem started when I realised he’s not *quite* the guy I  expected him to be. I wish I could just be one of those girls who make do with just sex. Because the sex is good. So fucking good.

So he was away on holiday and I wasn’t even missing him much. We’d messaged a bit when he was away and it was fine. Even when he said he was looking forward to seeing me, it was fine, because in my head, that meant he was looking forward to fucking me. Then, he landed at around 10pm and texted to see what I was doing. I’d had a busy day enduring just under three hours of pain for my newest tattoo and was out having a couple of civilised drinks after going to a silent disco/cabaret show thing. He asked if I wanted to come over. Sure, I said, but I wouldn’t get there til 1am at least and wasn’t he tired? I mean, he’d been out the night before and then spoken to me on Facebook until 2am, and then was up at 8am to sort things out before flying back to London. He said he was very, very tired, but he was offering. I went round after finishing up with my friends and got to his around 1.30. He was bone tired, I could see that. And, he was tanned – so tanned it was disgustingly sexy. He asked how I was, how my studying was going, work etc etc. All very nice and friendly. And then he gave me a bag  of sweets he’d brought back after I jokingly demanded that he should. Then came the sex. 

I’m not even going to lie – I felt like my entire fucking reproductive organs got shifted around. Literally.

I was watching Sex and The City the other day and Miranda apparently had said this to Robert, the fit Nicks doctor. 


And that’s literally how I felt. Aside from the extra *ahem* deepness, it was just what I would call intense. I swear, if he could’ve crushed my bones he would’ve. And therein lies my problem, because up til then it was just straight up fucking. He said he didn’t sleep with anyone while he was away, and he’s not sleeping with anyone else right now. It’s probably more because of hygiene than anything else, but c’mon, I’m female, of course that’s got my mind working over time. In homage to those girls in the McDonald’s advert: “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?”

We stayed up til 5.30, talking about all sorts, having more sex and then fell asleep.

I haven’t seen him since, thanks to my bloody period, but I dunno. I’m kinda thinking this might have to come to a premature end. I suppose it’s a good thing I go away A WEEK ON MONDAY because then I’ll get  some distance before I start overthinking things. Last night, he asked if I was really still going to France when we were texting and I’d said I’d be off after next week. Well of course I am. I asked if he was going to miss me and my ass (which he’s trying to tap and I’m dangling in front of his face quite nicely without saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’) and he said mostly my arse. So that brought me back down to earth.

It also turned out he told a mutual ‘friend’ about our getting together. I don’t mind that he did, but I did mind when she told me she knew and I had literally no inkling of it. She assured me he wasn’t bragging about it, and hasn’t told anyone else in our group. But still. And she wont tell me details of what he said either. 

He said he likes me because I’m not “crazy”. HA! Thank God he doesn’t read my blog!