Return of the mack…

There is a running theme this week and it is vodka.

Seriously, I could not have through it without Vodka and of course my buddies.  Who it has to be said are pretty much ‘open all hours’ for me at the moment.

They listen to my constant droning and moaning, my highs and lows, all my insecurities, my fears and doubts about this guy and that guy and even though I am sure they are almost as fed up with this online dating shit as I am, they do not show it, ever!

They talk me through everything and help me see the bigger picture.  They do not let me get too down about myself, they reassure me that even though I feel like I am losing my mind on a daily basis, they have got my back.  They cajole me and support me and when I want to scream and shout and swear like a banshee, they allow me to do so.

They also have lives of their own and shit to deal with but never have they ever not been there for me.

So this morning when I was getting myself ready for #returnofthemack, it was my buddies and two rather large Vodkas that saw me actually see it through.

I was shitting myself and that my friends is an understatement.

I woke up this morning with a feeling of dread, to be frank, after not a bloody lot of sleep.  My stomach was in knots.

I had, in my wisdom, ordered my grocery shopping to come at 9 am this morning, well it whiles away the time a bit and at the last-minute had added a variety pack of condoms to the list.  It’s better to be safe than sorry after all and I am far too old for both babies and STD’s thank you very much.

I was however, quite amused when the rather attractive black guy who arrived to deliver my shopping, informed me that, yes. I had a substitution.  I will give you three guesses what it was?

Of course, it was the condoms.  It couldn’t have been anything else could it?  Instead of my variety pack of flavoured, pleasure me’s and ultra thins, I ended up with a bog standard pack of extra safe!  No chance that is a sign at all?  FFS.  I’m trying to get a bit of spice in my life here!

So after unloading all the shopping, attractive black driver says to me; “are you happy with your substitutions madam?”  To which I could really only reply, yes.  I was hardly going to say, well I was hoping for a bit more variety as I’ve got someone coming round for a shag in hour, was I?

As the morning went on I was feeling much calmer, after a leisurely shower and some serious de-fluffing, I was pretty much ready.  It wasn’t going to take me long to get dressed, seeing as I wasn’t actually going to be wearing any clothes!

On our sexting adventure the previous Friday I had sent M a picture of this little wet look dress I have.  He liked it a lot and said I should wear it on our first date.  Tanked up on Vodka I readily agreed.  It is miniscule and just about covers my butt cheeks.  It is though, very sexy indeed but it wont take me long to get in, or out of it.

Last night we arranged that he would pick me up at 1 pm.   We would go for a drink somewhere fairly local, just to make sure that we liked each other and  if we did, we would go back to mine for “coffee!”.

This morning when he was messaging me, I still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he wasn’t going to turn up.  It is really quite horrible.  I was completely knotted up with nervous anxiety.

So, at 12.30 pm as I stood looking out the kitchen window, wearing my very small, very revealing little black dress, a pair of lacy hold ups and some very high heels, I was really hoping that he wasn’t going to become a ‘ghost’ and I wasn’t going to end up having to peel myself out of this dress on my own.

My phone pinged, a message from M;  Won’t be long!! xx

It’s 12.40 pm, where the fuck are you?  What do you mean ‘Wont be long’? Are you going to be here at one, or are you going to be late?  Have you left yet?  How long will it take you to get here?

Okay, okay, calm down and think of a suitable reply.  Without swearing, preferably… but I couldn’t.  I couldn’t bring myself to reply.  I couldn’t say, ‘I hope you are coming’ or ‘please don’t be late’ or even ‘get your bloody arse round here right now’ because I didn’t want to appear worried, even though I was quite clearly going out of my mind and starting to feel the need for even more Vodka.

12.58 pm.  Ping.  Another message, “going quiet on me? xx”

No! I’m not going quiet, well okay I am but seriously, could you just put me out of my misery.  I am losing my shit now.

Me;  You should be outside my house now? xx

M;   Should I? lol xx

LOL! Seriously, you are ‘laughing out loud’ are you right now?  Oh good, that makes me so happy.

Then at precisely the moment I thought that he really wasn’t coming.  There he was.  He had been messaging me from across the bloody road!  Oh, I do love a guy with a sense of humour. Bastard!

He came in for a few minutes, gave me a shiny penny (a private joke that will take far too long to explain) and asked to see the dress, (I had the Mack on at this point).  I showed him the dress, he came very close and well, I wont bore you with the details but it was a few more minutes before we left for the pub.

Nothing quite like a good snog to get your heart racing.

In the pub we only managed one drink, we were both very conscious of the fact that my coat wouldn’t quite stay where it was supposed to.  Every time I moved you could see a stocking top or some skin somewhere.  Not that I was flirting intentionally of course, good heavens.  What do you take me for?

We made it back to mine and I have to say I was very pleased with how things turned out.

The “coffee” was bloody delicious!

Now though we are back in no mans land.  Messaging.  Now we have to get through the whole texting shit again.  The sussing each other out without seeming to keen.  It’s sooooo tedious.

I would much rather say something along the lines of;  Hey!  I had a great time today.  I would really like to do that again, fancy coming round Friday?  but apparently it’s not the done thing.

So I’m sitting it out!  Yawn…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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