Biscuit, Beach and Beer
Following Toast’s recent arrival back at singledom, it seems that we are once again on a level pegging. In fact, if anything, I may be marginally ahead due to contacts made and groundwork done whilst Toast was with the Fez (if it’s possible to meaningfully qualify any marginal difference in our respective situations as ‘ahead’ or ‘behind’). On the flip-side, Toast has an extensive circle of female friends with beautiful and intelligent acquaintances they can introduce him to.
Yesterday I met up with a lady-friend who is back from Australia for a couple of weeks. I will refer to her as Scarlet for ease of reference. I have known Scarlet for many years as she is part of the extended circle of friends from the home town.
When I say, ‘friend’ I mean the kind of friend who I might have occasionally done naughty things with in the past. Actually, for a number of years I thought that we had fallen out following my ill chosen words on one particular night. I found out last year that she did not actually remember the incident at all (due to generally being fairly stoned around that time of her life) and so all my concern was, apparently, for nothing.
Scarlet left England to work in Australia last August. The night before she left we shared the naughtiest naughtiness so far, involving nakedness and everything. It was fun although, as mentioned before, my head was in no place at that time to connect with anyone so it was entirely physical.
Yesterday wasn’t really a date as such but in the spirit of rule 6 I am documenting it here. Mostly it involved sitting on a gloriously sunny beach with brief forays into:
- eating ice creams,
- sharing a some wine with a couple of other people,
- eating pizza,
- paddling in the outrageously far-away sea,
- having a pint.
In short, it was a normal (sort of)-date. Nothing silly happened. There was a little kissing and it was nice. Rather nice actually. I like kissing and I get to enjoy precious little of it. In a way I kind of miss it more than sex. You can always compensate for lack of sex, but tonguing the opening of a closed fist is good for nothing except giving 7 year-olds totally the wrong idea about what kissing involves when their friend excitedly proclaims it nearly the same as the real thing.
As time wore on and the day drew a close it was time to leave the refreshing sea-breeze behind. I had already offered Scarlet a lift back to mine if she fancied a beer and continuing the entertainment. She was erring on the side of going home. Not because she wanted to but as her friends and family had booked up almost the entirety of her brief visit with a selection of social engagements and she had a horribly early morning to contend with.
I know from past experience that I could easily have swung her decision and her body language was clearly saying that she would prefer to come with me however, ever the gentleman, I opted to leave the choice with her. Had the situation been different I probably would have played it differently but the fact was that I didn’t feel particularly comfortable taking her back to where I live yesterday. Dragonforce (house-mate extraordinaire) had been decidedly off with me before I went to meet Scarlet and made it clear in no uncertain terms that she did not welcome me bringing her back.
Given this situation I really did not want to bring Scarlet round to face a potentially frosty atmosphere so left it. I dropped her off at her parent’s and came home. A while after I got back home Scarlet sent a text to the effect that she had been a spaz and should have made a different decision, but by then it was all rather late.
To be honest, I am rather surprised by how sad this missed opportunity has made me. Standing in the sea (admittedly the murky grey silty sea), and kissing whilst trying not to fall over as our feet sank into the mud, gave me the kind of excited tingles I have not felt in a long time. I’m not saying that I suddenly found myself the victim of a naked chubby archer with suspiciously small wings, I am just saying that it was exciting to kiss and just let go and feel it without the usual internal monologue that accompanies most of my life. Slipping your hand round someone’s waist as your lips touch is an incredibly underrated pleasure.
So in conclusion, even though it wasn’t really a date, marriage percentage: 22%
Sadly it looks like this might be the only time that I see her whilst she is here as the only other free day she has is Sunday and it’s DF’s birthday so I will be attending the family barbecue in the manner of a well-behaved flatmate.
On the plus side, Df and I are hitting the usual rock club haunt on Friday night this week so there are plenty of opportunities for silly blog-worthy shenanigans then. I will probably spill my drink on a girl or slip over on the dance floor at least.
I think perhaps before that it is the ideal juncture, especially with Toast becoming single again and examining his own priorities, to review the qualities I am looking for in a partner. Wicked Shawn and Txtingmrdarcy have counselled me that apparently “brightly colored hair and interest in robots” are not “specific attributes that qualify a spouse”. I will begrudgingly admit that perhaps there’s something in that.