Royal Flush

So, unless you’ve been living under a rock I’m sure you’ll have heard of the antics our Prince Harry has been up to in Vegas. It’s caused a big stink as he’s third in line to the throne but, let’s be honest, these days being third in line means diddly squat. His dad’s been first in line for donkeys years and I can’t see him becoming king any time soon.

Plus, a major issue – Prince Harry is hot. Who cares if he’s been cavorting naked in a hotel, he’s 27 years old and doing what most guys his age do. I’m not a royalist, but I do think it’s unrealistic to expect him to live like a monk. It would be doing the world a major dis-service! So here are some pictures that certainly made me smile when I saw them. They’re all from a Facebook page called Prince Harry’s The Man. Which he is.

Enjoy

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The best compliment I’ve ever received

To say Mr Music was looking mighty hot last night would be an understatement. He’d had an interview that morning in The City and the city boy look is one that definitely suits him. He turned up with an ex colleague I haven’t seen for a couple of years and everything was fine. Of course I was still angry at him but I decided it probably wasn’t best to have a go at him in the middle of a packed out bar. I ignored him, as I usually do at first when he turns up to a drinks event, and wasn’t surprised to see him trying to catch my eye. We went out to smoke and then afterwards sat on the sofa for a chat.

I told him straight up that I was pissed off at him and I didn’t want him to feel like every time I asked him to go for a drink it was because I wanted to get into his pants. I’m all about having fun and socialising at the moment and he IS a friend before anything else. I told him I wasn’t trying to get married and have his babies. He apologised and I let it go. He asked about my ex and I told him about the ketamine and meth, and joked that I must have been a crap girlfriend to make him turn out that way. When I told him that, he looked at me and told me not to be so stupid – he was always going to go down that route and if anything I was probably the one keeping his feet on the ground. And then he said

‘You’re beautiful and funny. You’re a great person all round. You’re a rare commodity’

And I swooned. I’ve never had such a nice compliment given to me.

He told me that my wings had been severely clipped with my ex and he’d always wondered why I was with him in the first place.

‘There’s always been something between us’ he said, ‘but I felt like I couldn’t do anything because I can’t handle being the guy after your ex. I can’t compete with a ten year relationship.’

I told him I didn’t want him to compete. My last relationship was what it was, and if I wanted that I’d never have left. And I told him he wouldn’t be the guy after my ex – I’m only human after all, I have a sex drive like anyone else. He said again that he didn’t want our relationship to change and he was worried that after our night back in the summer it would have. I told him I didn’t regret it – I don’t really do things I know I’ll regret later. When he laughed and said ‘a blowjob would’ve been nice’ I laughed back and told him, there was a lot more I could’ve done that night but I knew my head wasn’t in the right place at the time. He seemed to understand that and agreed I was worth every one of the hundred pounds the room cost that night. Given that it was a pretty tame night, he’ll be in for quite a shock when I finally get him between the sheets.

As usual, his phone was beeping away and it turned out to be his stalker from my ‘Stench of desperation’ post. He showed me her texts and boy she does not give up. Where are you? I’m sorry I was all emotional today. Are you ok? She even used baby talk. And apparently she had a big problem with me. Maybe she felt threatened. I told him I fully understood why he was wary of relationships based on that and he seemed so confused. He asked why he attracts these girls and how he could get her to leave him alone without resorting to being a dick because she was actually scaring him. Well, he used a much naughtier word than that but you get my drift. I wish I had a choice piece of advice for him, but I didn’t. I’ve already been there and done that, and this girl is just a different kettle of fish. It appears he has something about him that drives women literally mental and yeah, I want a slice.

When he asked why women behave that way, I said I didn’t know. I’m not a stalker type and I promised him that if (when) anything happened with us, nothing would have to change unless he wanted to make an issue out of it. He just shrugged and said ‘there’s no issue, otherwise I wouldn’t be sat talking to you.’ Apparently he’s pretty strapped for cash now but after a month or so he’ll be back out on the social circuit, and when he told me he’d put my birthday present to him up on his wall, I smiled. I’d imagined it would end up on his floor somewhere, but he shook his head and said out of all the presents he had, it was the most thoughtful. See, I’m not just a pretty face.

All in all, it was a relaxed conversation. He did the whole breathing on my neck thing like he normally does but I managed to control myself. After we went out for another smoke, he whispered in my ear that one of the girls from work asked him if we were together. Obviously our chemistry is clear for everyone to see, as she later asked me the exact same thing.

I’d like to say I woke up at his this morning, but no. The girl who asked about our status has moved out his way and so they decided to share a cab. I have to say, after our talk and general flirting afterwards, all the signs were pointing in the direction of my knickers ending up on his floor, but the three of us sharing a cab would’ve caused way too much gossip. Oh well. There’s always his leaving do to finally snare him.

After he left, I stayed until closing time with a girl who used to work at my place but has since left. Actually, it was the night of her leaving party that I ended up at Mr Music’s flat. She can party just as hard as me, and it turns out we’re both in Ibiza on our girlie holiday at the same time. I smell carnage afoot.

While she danced the night away with an Aussie soldier guy, I got busy with one of only a few guys I’ve ever seen who can actually dance. And maybe had a cheeky kiss or two. Turns out he was a 22 year old uni student…Mrs Robinson? Me? Stuff it, who cares. It was fun. When it was time to go, it looked like my friend had properly pulled. It seemed as though one of us at least would be doing the horizontal dance after all, but in the commotion of waiting for our stuff from the cloakroom and the mass of people (including a whole heap of students from ‘opposing’ uni’s who were out for some kind of alcohol war) she lost him. And so it was that two girls made their way home alone.

To make matters worse (for me and my lack of sex life) Mr Soldier texted me this morning to say he’s failed his army training. Even through his texts I can sense how disappointed he is, I know he really wanted it. He’d said before that if he didn’t pass he’d give up on the idea of a life in the force. I really feel for him and I know he’s going to be in no mood to socialise. Weirdly, I don’t mind. I know how crap it is to not get something you really want, and this result means he’s going to have to re-evaluate what he wants to do with his life, unless he decides to try again.

Oh, the fun never stops.

Whoa…I’m going to Ibiza!

Hurrah! I’ve finally booked my summer holiday with the girls – we’re off to the Mediterranean party island of Ibiza for a week of mentalistic, hedonistic, debauched shagorific fun.

I wanted to go to Ibiza when I was around 16. I was heavily into trance music and my biggest ambition then was to go and dance the night away at Cream. Then it all went a bit crap. Crap music and total chavs descending on the island. But now, it’s picked up again and I am raring to go. So much so that I’m even overlooking the fact that I’ll be flying with EasyJet (gawd help) and that despite having emetophobia (a fear of vomit. Nice) I will be spending the week surrounded by pissed up Brits (for those of you who don’t know, we have THE worst reputation abroad for drunken, lewd, pukey behaviour).

By rights, this should be the kind of holiday that I’d do my utmost to avoid. But you know what? Fuck it. I’ve spent far too many years feeling boring and never doing anything and now, I am raring to go. I can’t wait to spend a week in the sun with my girls and generally misbehaving. I’m hoping I’ll have a ton of stories for my blog too 😉