I am absolutely, totally, completely, utterly and madly in love. I have spent almost every moment possible with Swimmer since that first date. Gosh the other morning I left his bed at 7am and we missed each other so much that at 1pm we were in a Starbucks 30 miles away where we both “happened” to be passing about the same time. First time ever I have canoodled in Starbucks but it was well worth charging up the motorway for. Its bad. Well actually its really really good. But I have got it really really bad. Oh yeah!
Candles, flowers, hearts, kisses, messages, big strong arms … they are all in this romantic story.
Last weekend he came to help me out at a triathlon I was officiating at. He stood one end of transition and I stood the other … and we were texting each other hearts and kisses. Oh dear. It is true I swear. I told Daughter about this.
“Mammy that is sooooooooo childish” said Daughter disdainfully.
“I know” said Me, “I feel about 15.”
“Well you are not acting 15″ snorted 15 year old Daughter,” I would never do anything like that … you are acting more like 12.”
He pulled up outside my house tonight and got out of his car. I caught a glimpse of his gorgeous body in this tight fitting red t shirt and I actually whispered to myself “Wow… buff.” I almost had to pinch myself to realise that this hot guy was coming to my house to see Me.
I confessed how I feel to Daughter, who is being increasingly huffy about the lack of time I am spending with her recently. We went out to dinner together so I could try to make up for the abandonment. We chatted over food.
“He is THE ONE” said Me.
“Oh what for the FOURTH time?” retorted Daughter sarcastically.
“What do you mean?” replied Me.
“Husband1, Husband2, EcoBuilder and now Swimmer … THAT IS FOUR!” replied Daughter with an air of superiority only a 15-year-old could get away with.
I thought about her statement.
I never ever believed that Husband1 was THE ONE. He is a lovely, kind man who I still respect and care for. He has been a damn good father to his sons and has a big massive heart. However, I didn’t really want to marry him and on my wedding day this silly girl, only just turned 20 years old, was crying not smiling.
I did believe that Husband2 was THE ONE. I was very happy and proud to be his wife. I was totally faithful to him for 17 years and loved him despite his selfishness, arrogance and emotional frigidity. However, I can pinpoint the exact moment when he stopped being THE ONE and started being a guy I had promised to stay with for better or worse. Daughter was only 3 months old when he got into a fight with Son1 and wrecked a whole Christmas. He fell off his pedestal that Christmas Eve and I never ever felt the same about him again.
I initially thought that EcoBuilder was THEONE but that was only for a little while. I soon became aware that he was not emotionally capable of sustaining any adult relationship. His own insecurities and childhood experiences meant that he was very needy and there was no emotional balance in the relationship. His see-sawing emotions soon wrecked the foundations of what could have been very good.
So is Swimmer really THE ONE? You know I really believe he is. He has strength combined with vulnerability, he has openness and honesty, he has humour and kindness, he has smiling eyes, he loves the things I love, he has the most beautiful body, and really do feel like a 15-year-old at the moment. (Oops sorry Daughter … I meant TWELVE year old!).
I am slightly vexed about what’s next though … it feels like this new story doesn’t fit with the old story. I feel like one chapter of The DAFT Diaries has ended and a new chapter has started. I am thinking that maybe the readers who have laughed along with my crazy single life may not be the same readers who will enjoy my story now. I have been wondering how to proceed.
So … I have a few options …
1) Continue TheDAFTDiaries just as it is but hope to take my readers along with Me into the new direction.
2) End TheDAFTDiaries at this point and start a new Blog for this next chapter of my life.
3) End TheDAFTDiaries and stop writing as no-one would be interested in a mushy, slushy love story.
Please dear dear readers tell me what you think I should do?
HELP desperately needed!!!
The birds are singing, the sky is blue, the sun is shining, and everything in my world is glorious, beautiful, wonderful technicolour … yes it happened … that glorious, wonderful, magical, fantastic, four letter word … and I don’t mean LUST or FUCK… truly I don’t. I really don’t. I mean love.
L. O. V. E.
For the last few years I have trawled the pages of Mismatch.com and PlentyOfDicks fruitlessly seeking the man of my dreams. Trying to find that elusive man who can tick all my boxes. You remember my dating criteria? 1) Tall. 2) Great smile. 3) No belly. 4) The desire to rip his clothes off.
It really shouldn’t have been that difficult should it?
I have probably dated about a 100 or so guys over the last 4 years and measured them up against those 4 criteria. So many of my dates only scored 1/4 or 2/4. There were a few scored 3/4 and made it to date two or rarely three, but in all honesty there were only a couple who scored 4/4 and then they usually scored if you get my drift. Yet, I have never been able to find that real connection. That magical link where your heart totally flips over just at the sound of a text arriving from him. The feeling that when he looks at you he can see straight into your soul. The feeling his kisses not only touch your lips, but also touch your heart. I searched for all that. Yet, there he was right under my nose all this time. For goodness sakes we have been Facebook friends for over two years. I have swum with him twice a week for the last 4 months. We have been at social events together. This tall guy, with a super fit, utterly edible body and a great smile. I didn’t find him nor he me. Crazy.
So …by now you have guessed it I’m sure .. .my date with Swimmer was right out of a Mills and Boons novel. We went to a stunning Italian restaurant situated at the edge of a gorgeous beach on a wild and windy evening. We sat opposite each other, in window seats, watching the magnificent frothy waves smashing on to the sand just below us. We talked lots. The food was beautiful. I had my first glass of Pinot Grigio in a month. He smiled lots. So did I. Over dinner I said something sad, and he touched my arm with such gentle care that a jolt of electricity ran through my whole being. He put his arm around Me as we left the restaurant. More electric sparks. It felt so good to have my highest red heels on and him still stand taller than Me. We went back to mine for a cup of tea and I took him out on to my bedroom balcony to look at the world that I see each day from my window. The lights of the city and the distant coast twinkled in the velvety black night. He stood behind Me, my hair blowing in the wind, and wrapped me in his big strong arms. Rockets launched, Catherine Wheels spun wildly, and spidery multi coloured fireworks lit up the sky. (Okay that bit didn’t happen but it bloddy well should have). He bent his head to kiss me and stopped a moment away from my lips. His lips hovered a mere angstrom from mine in an endless whisper of expectation, and when our lips did meet it was so beautiful, so gentle, so warm, so soft and tender. The evening was perfectly perfect. Big mahoosive sigh!!!
He is everything I have ever wanted. We have the same hobbies, we do the same things, we know the same people, we share the same friends and our lives are already interwoven. He is perfectly perfect for Me. I have closed down my Mismatch.com profile. It asked me the reason I was leaving. I ticked the box that indicated…’I met someone offline.’
No more internet dating. NO MORE INTERNET DATING. No more inane messages. No more penis photos. No more boring coffee dates. No more beer bellies I met someone offline. OH MY GOD. I MET SOMEONE OFFLINE.
PS Oh and did I mention he is tall?
This morning I hit my goal weight. I am so damn happy. I am now the exact same weight I was when I completed my Ironman a few years ago. Major cause for celebration or what. To get to this desired goal it has taken 5 months of early morning BootCamp alongside 2 months of HerbalIfe and 1 month of juicing. However, I am finally here. I trained hard over Bank Holiday weekend with 2x 40 minute runs, 2 x long swims, and a 36 mile bike. I so deserved those wonderful digits glowing on my scales this morning.
Oh and there is more to be happy about. Back to Monday when I was in a damn good mood after my little assignation with the gorgeous ITGuy. I sailed around in my happy bubble all day. So when we went down to the sea for our open water swim I was very buoyant and not just because I had my wetsuit on. Now there is this single guy in our club. A rare specimen indeed. He is a nice looking guy, not stunningly beautiful, but in damn good shape. Swimmer is early 40’s, 6’2” (fact), nice big arms and strong thighs. Now I am not blind to the delights of the male species so he has been on my radar for some time. So the gang of us are in the sea having a team photo and he stood right behind me, just gently holding my waist, and caused a real little tingle. During the swim I didn’t see him, as he swims so fast I think he has fins and gills. However, when Swimmer came out of the water the sight was an absolute delight. Now I absolutely love hairy chests, and don’t much approve of tri guys who shave everything off, but in all honesty when Swimmer unzipped his wetsuit and showed off a newly waxed torso and beautiful pecs just made for stroking, I was positively dribbling. We swapped a couple of flirty comments whilst we were getting changed but he is a massive flirt with absolutely everyone, so I thought nothing further of it and headed home.
Later that night Swimmer popped up on Facebook with another flirty little message which was just begging for another flirty little response. It would have been rude not to play. Two Facebook hours later we were planning a date to share some sparkly water in honour of my successful detox. Today the date has been truly fixed up. Tomorrow night Swimmer and Me are going out for food, drinks and hopefully lots of dirty tri talk. I am so excited. This is a real man. Not a man from PlentyofDicks or Mismatch.Com, but a real flesh and blood man that swims, bikes and runs for fun. How damn cool is that? We already know each other, so there will be no chance of the conversation drying up. For goodness sakes we can talk about transitions, resting heart rates, bilateral breathing, carbon forks, crank sets and bottom brackets all night. I currently see him twice a week at our early morning swim sets, so as Sister so eloquently pointed out… if he has seen me at 6.15am wearing a rubber swim cap and ghastly goggles and still wants to take me out, then that has gotta be a result!
Yesterday morning I got out of the pool and found him at my side walking to the changing rooms. We were making small talk and I was a tad distracted and flustered by those gorgeous pecs. Faced with two unmarked doors I was confused.
“Which are the girls changing rooms” asked Me of Swimmer innocently.
“Those ones there “ said Swimmer directing me through the second doorway… where I immediately found myself faced with four men in the shower. Oops!
He text me later that morning.
“Sorry about the showers sweetheart … just couldn’t resist” messaged Swimmer.
“You wicked man” replied Me sternly.
“I do have that wicked streak in me” replied Swimmer.
Ooooooh YES PLEASE thought Me.
Last night I was chatting with BestMaleFriend and telling him I had a date with a guy from Tri Club.
“You don’t even have to tell me” said BestMaleFriend, “I know exactly who it is. Swimmer?”
“Oh my god” replied Me stunned, “How on earth did you know?”
“It was only a matter of time!” pronounced BestMaleFriend.
“What … before I pounced on him?” said Me laughing.
“Yeah … or he pounced on you!” stated BestMaleFriend. He continued, “I’m really pleased. He is a nice guy. My advice to you is not to think of it as a date but just think of it as going for a drink with a friend from Tri Club.”
So … tomorrow night, officially, I am going out for a drink with a friend from Tri Club ….. but unofficially it’s a great date with a mate! I can’t wait! YEE HA!
Son3 kicked off yesterday, worse than ever before. He had thrown a temper tantrum the previous day due to Daughter and Me wanting the TV for half hour. The tantrum involved door slamming and swearing, followed by the basket ball being bounced upstairs on his bedroom floor. The house was shaking almost as much as me Seriously that child should have come with an instruction manual. I asked him to stop. He refused. I told him if he didn’t stop he would lose transport privileges the very next day. He refused to stop. Daughter and Me ignored the thud, thud, thud until he eventually ran out of bounce.
Needless to say, 24 hours later Son3 required a lift to a basketball game, and this very determined Mama Bear refused. What followed disturbed and upset not only Me, but Daughter and Son2 too. Firstly Son3 was bouncing the ball in the front room and refused to stop. Son2 tried to wrestle the ball from him, couldn’t get it, but did grab his precious baseball cap off his head. Son2 has brilliant humour and never gets mad. However, on this occasion he was damn furious. He eventually flung the baseball cap back at Son3 and was delighted that it landed right back on his head. A light moment on a dark day. Not long after, Daughter and Me took Dog for a walk. Son3 walked in front of Me the whole way. I mean one inch in front of Me. He walked in my path, and kept crossing Me, barging Me and trying to provoke a fight. Every 5 minutes I gave him a verbal warning that he was losing another day of transport privileges. After 25 minutes of deliberate obstruction and blatant bullying he eventually went home. Total cost = 5 days loss of transport privileges. I have never felt so upset by his behaviour. If I could get him to a counsellor or psychiatrist I would, but I have had appointments for him in the past and he has always refused to attend. He worries Me greatly. I cried all night.
Woke this morning after a damn good night’s sleep with the sunlight brightening the green fields splashed with hundreds of dandelions. The colour and sunshine lifted my mood and I pondered as to how to spend a sunny Bank Holiday Monday. I decided to check in on Facebook to see if anything was going on that could pluck me from the despair of yesterday, and within 10 seconds a very welcome message popped up …
“Can I tempt you with an erection that has your name on it” messaged ITGuy.
“Of course” replied Me, “you can always tempt with me with that!”
45 minutes later I was showered, rubbed in sanctuary coco butter, dressed in some silk and lace underwear, and outside his apartment on the right side of town. This guy is so damn hot. Seriously, he does the women of this proud nation a disservice by keeping his clothes on. He has big guns, taut stomach, big thighs, peachy ass and the most spectacular penis I have ever seen. Being invited to feast on this delight is an honour and privilege for this single gal.
We greeted each other at his door like the old friends we are … got up to his apartment and barely made it into the hallway, never even got as far as the bedroom. This guy is absolutely smoking hot … and because I have no emotional attachment to him whatsoever, it is simple, fun, easy, uncomplicated, fabulous sex. We only hook up when we are both free and neither of us has ever cheated on a partner with each other so it also feels very honest. We are so very different. He is a professional executive, earning major money, with the mandatory boys toys and the gorgeous girlfriends. I am a slightly hippy, rather dippy, romantic poetess with a beat up old car and quirky boyfriends (although I guess that is better than a quirky car and beat up old boyfriends). Yet, we respect each other, like each other, and have damn good fun with each other. We had a cup of tea afterwards and caught up on each others lives. Then I was gone. With a smile broader than my now very much smaller ass.
With my bad mood shifted and spirits lifted I went running in the woods with Dog. It is good to be back running as a lighter, fitter Me. I have just one more pound to dispose of, and I will be back at my 2010 Ironman weight. As if that wasn’t enough for my body I then did my very first open water mile long swim. My body feels amazing … I absolutely love this totally fucked feeling.
Now if only ITGuy was available on prescription …
What is it with needy men? Truly I am just about done with men taking from me. I am too soft and give too much. It is never appreciated. I am finally taking a stand. I need a big strong capable man who will wrap me in his arms and devour me three times (at least) a day. Instead my inbox is a disorderly queue of counselling clients.
I have shared with you about the cool, nice looking guy who has this breathless “yeah” and a really interesting occupation. I was pretty sure we would get along and I have had a few telephone conversations with him. He lives just over two hours away from me and so it was never going to be easy. However, on the phone he is intelligent, funny, confident and entertaining, so I broke my 50 mile radius rule and responded to his online messages. Last week I was driving within an hour of where he lives and asked if he wanted to hook up. He said he couldn’t make it. Didn’t give a reason or try to arrange anything else. Now I have a really low boredom threshold and I have sort of switched off from him since. He rung the other night whilst I was driving Son3 home from football. It had been a busy day and by the time I got home, cooked dinner and had a bath, I just sort of crawled into my pit. Early the next morning I realised that I hadn’t returned his call.
“Oops forgot to phone you back last night. Sorry! Was driving when you called, then had supper, a bath and a long sleep!” text Me at 8.45am.
I heard nothing back all day and then at 10pm this little gem arrived.
“Indifference eh? Now I won’t deal with that …. Shame, as despite the geographical distance, I think we could have been good together. Patience? Never my strong suit. How soon is now? And all that. Oh fuck! Can’t believe how much I believed in you … bloody ridiculous!” text BreathlessYeah.
I was completely floored. He was right though it was bloody ridiculous. Super bloody ridiculous. I duly ignored it.
Around 14 hours later another text pinged in.
“Have just re-read last night’s text and wish to apologise for it. Melodramatic nonsense. I know, as a grown man, I should be ashamed and yes I am. SORRY! Can we talk?” text BreathlessYeah.
Being the kind-hearted soul I am, plus I was interested in the origins of his outburst, I agreed, and he rang Me. I listened to him waffle on about his past life, money, self-torment etc. and suddenly thought I just can’t listen for one more second. I rapidly made up an excuse about Daughter needing Me and hung up very abruptly.
I was then laying in my bed feeling pretty exhausted and desperate to sleep, when a text pinged in from HandsomeSmoker. Now I dislike cigarette smoke and I think I have only ever dated a couple of smokers. The reason they got a date was because they weren’t honest in their profiles. After all an “occasional smoker” does not mean 20 a day does it? I have talked to HandsomeSmoker on the phone a few times and he is nice to talk to. He lives a couple of hours away from Me too, but is nice looking, so once again I relaxed my 50 mile radius. Again, there have been no plans to meet up and so my low boredom threshold has already kicked in here too.
“Can you chat?” text HandsomeSmoker about 11pm.
“So sorry am pretty wrecked and need to sleep … talk soon!” replied Me.
Ten seconds later he rings Me. Given that I had only just replied and he would know I couldn’t be sleeping, I answered. He was slurring, probably drunk, and I quickly realised I just didn’t want to talk to him at all. I made my excuses and he got a little whiny. I hung up whilst he was in the middle of moaning about how I never want to talk to him on the phone. Well done on being so intuitive huh?
This was all on top of a 90 minutes phone call from MaleFriend the night before. I reckon I spoke half a dozen sentences during the whole phone call. The rest of it consisted of such intellectual delights as, ”how awful”, “oh dear” or “oh no”. I was sooo damn relieved when his battery died.
So …. finally …. I am taking a stand. I hate talking on the phone, not even to my dearest friends. Skype Me. Facebook Me. Email Me. Text Me. Hey Presto! I am your willing (and very able) girly. Demand endless and lengthy phone conversations and I just don’t want to play anymore.
I am DONE! THROUGH! FINISHED! COOKED! CEASED! CONCLUDED! DEMOLISHED! CLEANED OUT! From this day forth I am taking this solemn vow that any guy who wants to date Me (no matter how hot, sexy or handsome) will first be expected to undertake a mental health assessment as well provide a doctor’s paper declaring that he is of sound mind (and of course very, very sound body).
The rest of ‘em can go pay £50 an hour! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Made it to Bootcamp this morning at 6.15am and was telling TheBride about the search for a male escort for her wedding. She then revealed who the two single men are. One is not single at all and is in fact very happily married, but is actually going as the ‘plus one’ of the other guy who is indeed single and is … wait for it … actually very good-looking. He was at the run session last night and I did check him out to be honest. He is short but his handsomeness makes up for it. I told TheBride that I would be happy to sit by him … and then, striking whilst the girl is hot, I friend requested him on Facebook and he duly accepted. Oh well if nothing else it will be someone to talk to when the slow songs start playing at the end of the night.
I have just got back from my very first Buddhist lesson for beginners. I have been contemplating doing this for some time and particularly since I got back from my detox. I like the feeling of inner peace and serenity and I thought a lesson would help me get some more of this in my life. So I arrived at the Buddhist temple … had a quick cup of fennel tea in a room with another twenty or so people… and then we took off our shoes and headed into the temple to take a seat before an altar full of little buddhas. I looked around the room and sat next to the only handsome man there. Quickly clocked the wedding ring … big sigh!
The teacher came and sat cross-legged on a pillow which itself was on top of a really tall stool. Everyone sang this really tuneless slow song … I just read the words off the card silently and noticed that MrHandsome next to me was doing the same. We then meditated which was lovely. I have meditated before a little, but wasn’t sure that I was doing it properly. I am really pleased to learn that I meditate absolutely fine thank you very much. The teacher’s voice drifted through my brain and I cognitively roamed off to a very calm and blissful place, the whole experience regulated by the mindfulness of my breathing, I was so at peace I fell asleep and continued dozing after the meditation part of the lesson had finished and the actual lesson had started. In between consciousness I was catching bits of the lesson and words like karma and virtue and rebirth swirled around my brain. Then all of a sudden I awoke with a start as I heard the teacher say …
“There is one person in this room who is celibate!” he said.
I jumped out of my skin and was convinced he was pointing at me. After all it’s been a good few weeks since my couple of days away with Architect. Then I noticed a little Buddhist monk sitting at the back of the class. Phew!!
At the end of the lesson the teacher asked us to do some simple things which could give us merit and create good karma, such as not to kill (think I manage that), not to steal (that’s screwed me for the bit of photocopying I was going to do at work tomorrow), not to lie (I should be okay for that one as I am pretty honest) and not to use intoxicants (hey I’ve been detoxing I’m clean). However, then he hit me with the big one … which was not to engage in sexual misconduct. At this point dear readers he lost me. I may be a non violent, honest, sober, hippyish sorta chick but I do intend to spend the rest of my days engaging in sexual misconduct and LOTS OF IT!
Hmmmmmm … I wonder if Buddha would give me a bit of a pass just on that particular one?
I now have a second outfit for the forthcoming wedding. The reason for this is that my first outfit consists of a black/white dress and very very very high black wedges. Truly I reckon I am easily 6’3″ in these shoes. Given that I am now one month away from the big event, at which I am expected to rock up with a ‘plus one’, and I am about as likely to find a man that tall in the next three weeks as I am of finding a Balearic Giant Shrew chilling in my garden, I have had to have a re-think. Sister gave me a rather lovely lime green and black dress last week. Tags still on. I have tried it on and although it makes my arse look enormous it actually makes my waist look tiny. Also, it does not look as good with the black wedges as it does with a pair of suede black sling-backs. Now the sling backs only have about a 3 inch heel and so I reckon I must stand about 6’1″ in those. Therefore, I can obviously lower my standards a little and seek out a slightly shorter man. If I am still without a date by the middle of May then I do have a third dress that would work okay with some flip-flops … but that really is the last resort and I can’t possibly sink any lower. Hmmmm…I guess there is always the possibility of developing a hunch or a slouch to shave off another couple of inches. Desperate measures and all that jazz!
I cannot go to this wedding alone. I just cannot. I am fine with being single most of the time. I have sort of got quite used to my own company these days and recent holidays, live music and birthday parties have all been a solo adventure. However, I really cannot attend this wedding on my own.
Over the weekend TheBride contacted me to ask for the name of my ‘plus one’.
“How long have I got to find him?” replied Me.
“Until the end of the week” replied TheBride,”as then I have to send the names off for the table planning.
“Hey” said Me despairingly,”can you just put it on the planner as “Guest” that will give me more time.”
At Bootcamp yesterday morning I got into a discussion with TheBride about my situation. She was very sympathetic.
“If you knew how many weddings I had missed before I met TheGroom because I just couldn’t face going on my own” said TheBride.
I get this. I really do. There comes a time when you just cant take any more of being the odd one out in a room full of couples. So I have made a decision. If I do not have a date for the wedding by natural means, then I will procure one by unnatural means. I shall buy one. I shall hire a male escort. I am a successful, professional woman … I can do these things if I wish.
A little Google adventure found me at Gentlemen4Hire which very happily has a selection of men for hire in Wales. The site information states that you must talk to them beforehand in order to arrange a cover story around where you met and to brief them on the type of event you are going to. I was a tad disappointed by those instructions. If I am hiring someone I would like everyone to know that I paid for the man for that night. I would get a bit of a kick out of that and it would appeal to my warped humour. Anyways I started browsing some profiles. The first I look at is a very ordinary looking dude of 5’10 who is charging £75 an hour for weekend work. Given the wedding is at 4pm and finishes at midnight … that comes to … erm … (shoes and socks off) round about £600. ARE YOU SERIOUS … he is 5’10″ … I would expect a man that height to be practically FREE or at the very least a BOGOF deal.
The Escort Agency guys have photos on their profiles that look like they have been lifted straight off Plenty of Fish… guys stood in bathrooms, or drinking a beer, topless with a very tattooed chest, or posing woodenly leaning up against a light switch. Really… is that is the pick of the best in Wales? I did find one quite cute black guy who was 6’2″but each extra inch came at cost as he was expecting £100 an hour. The site clearly states that there are no sexual favours involved and it was strictly for the privilege of being escorted to social events. Nevertheless one guy was offering a half hour escort service. Now I don’t think that there are many social events where you would only need to hire a guy for just half hour. A meal at McDonalds maybe!
“I have two single men coming,” said TheBride helpfully, “would you prefer to sit on a table with them?”
I did think about it for a moment but then politely declined. After all, the way my luck with men is recently the guys would probably just fall in love with each before my eyes. Big sigh!
