Mrs J has been on holiday this week and it’s been a little weird to not be heading round to her house. I did pop down on Wednesday to water her plants and make sure that the place was all fine but it seemed quite cold and devoid of life without Mrs J there so I didn’t hang around for long.
Stalker Greg is back to his usual tricks. I was coming home from work the other night and I happened to have a bunch of flowers. An obvious perk of the job is that I get a discount on flowers and there sometimes happens to be mistakes made on bouquets or people don’t come in to pick up their flowers despite having ordered them. So this is how I happened to have the most beautiful display of roses as I trudged back home.
I don’t know why I’m surprised that Greg managed to pop out of his house at exactly the moment I was passing by. If he used his powers for good instead of evil, he could be quite the force to be reckoned with. As it stands, he’s just a right royal pain in my arse. Anyway, out he popped and started a conversation that he hoped would lead to me telling him where the flowers had come from without him actually asking me who had given them to me. In an unmeant twist of fate, I managed to never tell Greg where I worked which has turned out to be a blessing now that he fancies himself half in love with me. The conversation didn’t go as he planned and despite my inability to be nasty to people – I felt quite smug that I had been quite closed off with him. Hopefully that will be the end of him for a while.
And I have a date. My phone rang the other night and despite answering with good English, as soon as the person on the other end spoke, I lost the ability to string a sentence together. It was Mike (swoonable rugby man!) who got my number from Sally and decided to give me a ring. We chatted for a little while before he asked me to go to the pictures with him. Thank God he didn’t suggest somewhere where I’ll be forced to have proper conversation because it would appear that I only have to imagine his handsome face to get tongue tied! So that’s tomorrow night and I’m already going crazy trying to think of what I should wear.
Luckily, these flittering butterflies in my tummy are such a good feeling. It’s nice to feel so excited about something again!
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Sunday, 17 July 2011
I met a guy...
Finally, finally, finally! I’m so excited to have finally met a decent, kind and lovely guy. And he’s good looking too which is not a pre-requisite but definitely a bonus!
We also had a little bit of a cute meet which always makes me think it would be lovely to tell the story of how we first met to friends at our engagement party or to family at our wedding. Not that I’m being pathetically girly and fantasising of this kind of thing already! *Blushes*
So, me and my friend had gone to the local rugby club where her boyfriend plays stand off for our town team. I do quite enjoy rugby and usually head to internationals but you would be a traitor to your female genes if you didn’t also take a delight in rugged, manly men getting down and dirty in little shorts!
Anyway, Sally and I had picked up a couple of pear ciders and settled down on the grass to have a natter, a drink and to watch the coming and goings on the pitch. After our first cider I volunteered to get another and headed into the clubhouse, through the throngs of people on the side of the pitch and milling about outside the buildings to the bar. I bought our second round, and two burgers to slow the impact of the alcohol (especially on a light weight such as me!) and headed back outside. It was half time and so a little busier than it was before and I was balancing two bottles and two burgers in my hands when I managed to step on a small child. Immediately apologetic, I whirled around to apologise, caught my foot on the side of the path, slipped on the slightly damp grass and started to tumble forward into a row of people.
Now a normal person might have dropped the cider and burgers in order to keep herself upright but I was brought up to hate to waste food so I kept a tight hold of my purchases and went down like a lead balloon, caring not a whit for the domino effect I had on the people on the grass. I managed to contort myself so that I wouldn’t fall onto my face and instead landed on my side, quickly rolling onto my back, panting with the sheer embarrassment and, if I’m honest, a little joy at having kept everything intact with nary a spill! However, the worst was to come when there was a shout and I felt something touch my feet which were still sprawled on the path. The next thing I knew, 15 stone (I can only imagine) of lean, slightly sweaty, dirty (but still very attractive) male fell right on top of me, squishing the burgers to my chest and knocking both ciders out of my hands, one landing upended on the grass beside my head and the other spilling all over the front of my top. I was both not amused and strangely titillated by the stranger who was giving me the closest thing I’ve had to sex in months!
Things happened quite quickly after that and people rushed to help up the player. Oh, and as an afterthought, me! He was heralded away, walking with a noticeable limp as I rushed, head down, back to Sal with the pathetic excuse that the bar queue was too long to wait. She questioned me about the horrible stains of questionable meat, tomato sauce and cider covering my top but I couldn’t think up a reasonable excuse so kept quiet. The next thing I know, the second half started and an announcement on the tannoy says that such and such a player is being substituted due to an ankle injury sustained during a half time rush to the toilet and the legs of a rather drunk girl. I was ridiculously affronted by this and was about to show my annoyance when I realised he was the team’s star player and I had just become persona non gratis should anyone realise it was me who had done the damage.
To cut a long story short, at the end of the match, when Sal and I had made our way over to congratulate with Sal’s boyfriend, who should appear but him - the guy I had taken out of the game. Apparently, it’s very ‘happy families’ at the rugby clubs and Sal’s boyfriend, Steve and the guy (who turned out to be called Mike) were not only team mates but brothers to boot. I did try to enjoy the after game barbeque but as it was interspersed with supposed good natured ribbing about my being a mole from the other team, I possibly didn’t enjoy it as much as I would have if I had been a normal person rather than ‘that girl’ but in the end it did turn out rather nice.
Because just as we were about to leave, Mike came up to me. I was trying to blend into invisibility by the coats but he seemed to spot me anyway and came over. Before he had a chance to say anything I blurted out an apology worthy of a geeky schoolgirl who has just been spoken to by the cool guy in school. He grinned at me (he has such a cute smile!) and said that it wasn’t a problem – a minor sprain. I then told him that I hadn’t meant to knock him over. His reply was the stuff of romantic fantasies. He said to me that it wasn’t a problem because he would have fallen for me anyway. Sal and Steve chose that moment to appear to take me home. I’m pretty sure that Mike then asked me if I would be at the next game and I hopefully answered a little more coherently that my scrambled thoughts were dictating. He then gave me a quick peck on the cheek and proceeded to lean on the doorjamb of the club as he watched us make our way to the car.
I now have that happy glow of infatuation and hopefully this will actually go somewhere good. Nice guys do exist! Yay!
We also had a little bit of a cute meet which always makes me think it would be lovely to tell the story of how we first met to friends at our engagement party or to family at our wedding. Not that I’m being pathetically girly and fantasising of this kind of thing already! *Blushes*
So, me and my friend had gone to the local rugby club where her boyfriend plays stand off for our town team. I do quite enjoy rugby and usually head to internationals but you would be a traitor to your female genes if you didn’t also take a delight in rugged, manly men getting down and dirty in little shorts!
Anyway, Sally and I had picked up a couple of pear ciders and settled down on the grass to have a natter, a drink and to watch the coming and goings on the pitch. After our first cider I volunteered to get another and headed into the clubhouse, through the throngs of people on the side of the pitch and milling about outside the buildings to the bar. I bought our second round, and two burgers to slow the impact of the alcohol (especially on a light weight such as me!) and headed back outside. It was half time and so a little busier than it was before and I was balancing two bottles and two burgers in my hands when I managed to step on a small child. Immediately apologetic, I whirled around to apologise, caught my foot on the side of the path, slipped on the slightly damp grass and started to tumble forward into a row of people.
Now a normal person might have dropped the cider and burgers in order to keep herself upright but I was brought up to hate to waste food so I kept a tight hold of my purchases and went down like a lead balloon, caring not a whit for the domino effect I had on the people on the grass. I managed to contort myself so that I wouldn’t fall onto my face and instead landed on my side, quickly rolling onto my back, panting with the sheer embarrassment and, if I’m honest, a little joy at having kept everything intact with nary a spill! However, the worst was to come when there was a shout and I felt something touch my feet which were still sprawled on the path. The next thing I knew, 15 stone (I can only imagine) of lean, slightly sweaty, dirty (but still very attractive) male fell right on top of me, squishing the burgers to my chest and knocking both ciders out of my hands, one landing upended on the grass beside my head and the other spilling all over the front of my top. I was both not amused and strangely titillated by the stranger who was giving me the closest thing I’ve had to sex in months!
Things happened quite quickly after that and people rushed to help up the player. Oh, and as an afterthought, me! He was heralded away, walking with a noticeable limp as I rushed, head down, back to Sal with the pathetic excuse that the bar queue was too long to wait. She questioned me about the horrible stains of questionable meat, tomato sauce and cider covering my top but I couldn’t think up a reasonable excuse so kept quiet. The next thing I know, the second half started and an announcement on the tannoy says that such and such a player is being substituted due to an ankle injury sustained during a half time rush to the toilet and the legs of a rather drunk girl. I was ridiculously affronted by this and was about to show my annoyance when I realised he was the team’s star player and I had just become persona non gratis should anyone realise it was me who had done the damage.
To cut a long story short, at the end of the match, when Sal and I had made our way over to congratulate with Sal’s boyfriend, who should appear but him - the guy I had taken out of the game. Apparently, it’s very ‘happy families’ at the rugby clubs and Sal’s boyfriend, Steve and the guy (who turned out to be called Mike) were not only team mates but brothers to boot. I did try to enjoy the after game barbeque but as it was interspersed with supposed good natured ribbing about my being a mole from the other team, I possibly didn’t enjoy it as much as I would have if I had been a normal person rather than ‘that girl’ but in the end it did turn out rather nice.
Because just as we were about to leave, Mike came up to me. I was trying to blend into invisibility by the coats but he seemed to spot me anyway and came over. Before he had a chance to say anything I blurted out an apology worthy of a geeky schoolgirl who has just been spoken to by the cool guy in school. He grinned at me (he has such a cute smile!) and said that it wasn’t a problem – a minor sprain. I then told him that I hadn’t meant to knock him over. His reply was the stuff of romantic fantasies. He said to me that it wasn’t a problem because he would have fallen for me anyway. Sal and Steve chose that moment to appear to take me home. I’m pretty sure that Mike then asked me if I would be at the next game and I hopefully answered a little more coherently that my scrambled thoughts were dictating. He then gave me a quick peck on the cheek and proceeded to lean on the doorjamb of the club as he watched us make our way to the car.
I now have that happy glow of infatuation and hopefully this will actually go somewhere good. Nice guys do exist! Yay!
Thursday, 7 July 2011
The woes of Facebook
Up until this point in my life I have been able to conduct both my everyday life and my social life without the use of a social networking site. That’s not to say that I’m against the whole shebang but I just haven’t seen the need. My main reason for staying away is that I don’t have that many friends! I’m not in touch with anyone from my school days (thank the lord!) and I only have a small group of close friends and a slightly larger group of occasional friends who are likely not online anyway! So, it’s more a fear of being a loser with only about 15 ‘friends’ that makes me stay away as I’m not the kind of person to add people as friends that I don’t even know or only met once. Until recently!
Now I am a fully fledged member of Facebook and I have to admit it was quite fun for a while. I was able to keep up to date with the occasional friends without the horror of a silent phone call punctuated by bursts of inane pleasantries! There’s also the games which is a strange addiction of mine and possibly one of the reasons that I can’t seem to drag myself out and about to try and find Mr Right! So all was going well until I got a friend request from a girl I worked briefly with about 4 years ago. The briefness lasted for about 4 months which in the grand scheme of things is a rather short amount of time. We weren’t close friends especially since I was her line manager. But I still thought nothing of adding her as a friend. I did know her, I’d met her more than once and what harm could it do? Well…
…she’s a bloomin’ psycho! She started leaving messages on my wall thingy saying that we should meet up and ‘have tea’. That’s fine but I’m not that fancy, she certainly wasn’t that fancy and I never had the urge to do fancy stuff like that with her. I assumed I was being overly critical and gave her a non-specific, placating response. Alas she was not to be bested and so began her quest to meet with me at all costs. Messages came pouring in about how we should meet up and eat cake together, shed a few tears about the past and how she could really do with a huge hug with me. Odd and slightly creepy seeing as she was just someone I worked with and not a friend that I had inadvertently lost contact with. It would be a little easier to deal with if I could pass it off as some sort of weird crush but the girl is engaged to be married and, well, a girl! So, rather than deal with the weirdness that was beginning to happen at least two times per day, I blocked her as a friend from Facebook. Rub hands together – all sorted.
Not so much.
She started on my friends. When you block someone on Facebook they completely disappear so she could find me on no searches and any posts that I put on other people’s walls are hidden to her so you’d think that she would get the hint. Nope – the messages started going to my other friends. Where’s Daisy? Is she okay? Why doesn’t she want to be my friend? Have I done something to upset her? Apart from getting a life, if the girl was any kind of friend to me she would have known that this kind of thing is the surest thing to raise my hackles. I hate when people are too needy and hate it even more when people resort to playground tactics. Yeesh – if it takes that much effort to get me to be your friend am I really worth it? Without being too negative – no I am not!! When she started to quiz my friends about whether I still stayed at the same address and drove the same car as I did 4 years ago (yes and no), that’s when my friends got a little concerned and she was blocked by them as well.
So now I’m a little wary as I not only have to worry about stalker Greg but also about scary Lorna appearing at my door. Luckily Greg has toned down the crazy and the only thing I’ve seen him do of late is stare at me out his window as I get out my car. He always has a look on his face that reminds me of a wounded puppy but I will not be swayed. And I really should find a way to rid myself of whatever I am wearing, doing or acting that makes me the target of crazy stalker types!!
Now I am a fully fledged member of Facebook and I have to admit it was quite fun for a while. I was able to keep up to date with the occasional friends without the horror of a silent phone call punctuated by bursts of inane pleasantries! There’s also the games which is a strange addiction of mine and possibly one of the reasons that I can’t seem to drag myself out and about to try and find Mr Right! So all was going well until I got a friend request from a girl I worked briefly with about 4 years ago. The briefness lasted for about 4 months which in the grand scheme of things is a rather short amount of time. We weren’t close friends especially since I was her line manager. But I still thought nothing of adding her as a friend. I did know her, I’d met her more than once and what harm could it do? Well…
…she’s a bloomin’ psycho! She started leaving messages on my wall thingy saying that we should meet up and ‘have tea’. That’s fine but I’m not that fancy, she certainly wasn’t that fancy and I never had the urge to do fancy stuff like that with her. I assumed I was being overly critical and gave her a non-specific, placating response. Alas she was not to be bested and so began her quest to meet with me at all costs. Messages came pouring in about how we should meet up and eat cake together, shed a few tears about the past and how she could really do with a huge hug with me. Odd and slightly creepy seeing as she was just someone I worked with and not a friend that I had inadvertently lost contact with. It would be a little easier to deal with if I could pass it off as some sort of weird crush but the girl is engaged to be married and, well, a girl! So, rather than deal with the weirdness that was beginning to happen at least two times per day, I blocked her as a friend from Facebook. Rub hands together – all sorted.
Not so much.
She started on my friends. When you block someone on Facebook they completely disappear so she could find me on no searches and any posts that I put on other people’s walls are hidden to her so you’d think that she would get the hint. Nope – the messages started going to my other friends. Where’s Daisy? Is she okay? Why doesn’t she want to be my friend? Have I done something to upset her? Apart from getting a life, if the girl was any kind of friend to me she would have known that this kind of thing is the surest thing to raise my hackles. I hate when people are too needy and hate it even more when people resort to playground tactics. Yeesh – if it takes that much effort to get me to be your friend am I really worth it? Without being too negative – no I am not!! When she started to quiz my friends about whether I still stayed at the same address and drove the same car as I did 4 years ago (yes and no), that’s when my friends got a little concerned and she was blocked by them as well.
So now I’m a little wary as I not only have to worry about stalker Greg but also about scary Lorna appearing at my door. Luckily Greg has toned down the crazy and the only thing I’ve seen him do of late is stare at me out his window as I get out my car. He always has a look on his face that reminds me of a wounded puppy but I will not be swayed. And I really should find a way to rid myself of whatever I am wearing, doing or acting that makes me the target of crazy stalker types!!
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