Well. I’m nervous. That was the last time were going to talk before I see his face on Monday on the platform. He won’t be around to talk tomorrow because hell be at the “North Pole” with his little girl and he has the early flight the next day to see me… I’m terrified. I’m going into this already kinda crushing on him… I need to think of it as a crude, simple business transaction. Entertainment for both of us in a cool ass city. I will not be emotionally attached. It won’t turn into anything. It’s two days of fun with someone handsome seeing great sites. I need to mentally prepare myself…
London gives me butterflies like no man ever has. I’m not ready to leave this city.
Fucking hell. He’s a lovely man. I’m in trouble.
May have found my Gerry.
I stood erect, sandwiched in the train car between other bodies like a tin of sardines. I blew the hair out of my eyes and shifted my weight in my heels as my eyes scanned the tube map on the wall. One more stop. I wasn’t particularly nervous (I had done thing kinda thing before) but I was anxious to finally see him and let him finally see me. I quickly touched my oyster card and exited the tube, scanning the crowd of men in suits for Richard. I looked left and pulled my eyes to the right and there he was, greeting me with a slight wave and a smirk. He stood there in dress pants and a green wooly jumper slipped over his button down. His hair was perfectly styled and swooshed over to the left. He hesitantly walked toward me, staring into my eyes and stuck his arms around me for a hug hello. “Hello Jillian, nice to meet you!” His voice was warm and smooth like honey; it was calm, soothing and posh. We talked as he walked me to the cocktail bar. A wall of nerves hit me like a ton of bricks and my mind couldn’t absorb a single word that fell from his lips. We arrived at the cocktail bar, which was in the BFI building, overlooking the Thames and the hostess took our coats. We sat like stiffs at the bar in our stools and chatted nervously to one another. We looked over the cocktail menus and he ordered for both of us. Everything was a fog until our lips touched the alcohol, which loosened our muscles, easing our butterflies and nerves. We had two cocktails each and shared sips of each other’s. Each drink he ordered was cool and refreshing, much like himself. He liked the taste of ginger, he said almost as much as he liked my ginger hair. We lingered after our second drink and our legs started to entangle, forming bridges between our stools. After collecting our coats, we walked along the Christmas market that lined the edge of the river and gabbed under the twinkling strings of lights that hung from the trees. Our hands repeatedly brushed against each others until I finally wrapped my arm around his with a smirk. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes and a smirk was returned. We crossed the river and winded in and out of several streets until we found ourselves at a tiny, wedge-like pub. He told me to grab a seat while he fetched another round of drinks. What used to be two stiffs in stools became a group of loose limbs, rubbing against one another, becoming tangled, getting closer, sharing body heat. After one drink, he grabbed my hand and we decided to move along to the next. My feet felt like silicone and loosely planted themselves onto the cobblestones, avoiding the cracks in between. His hand was wrapped firmly around mine and he pulled me to the side of the walkway, under a doorway, away from the raindrops that rolled off the curve of my umbrella. He looked into my eyes and pulled me in close. I dropped my umbrella and let my bag slide out from under my arm as he inched toward my face. He positioned his face to fit his features into mine and his lips met my lips. My eyelids fell closed and his lips parted to meet mine again. Our tongues danced around each other’s, and fingertips wandered, pressing into clothed flesh. We lost our breath in a moment of intense pleasure and romance and struggled to catch it again. He pulled my hand back to the street and we dipped into another pub. As he grabbed us another round of drinks, I looked up to the television screen, watching the football match. I glanced back at the bar and he embarrassingly smiled when I caught him watching me from across the pub. I smiled and looked back up. He set down our drinks and sat down next to me. We didn’t let the fact that we were in public stop us from kissing each other’s faces. His lips met my cheek, my temple, my nose, my forehead, my lips again. His fingers interlaced with mine and then wrapped around my bare knee. My lips met his cheek, his temple, his nose, his forehead and his lips again. We kissed through our smiles. After we finished our drink, we went back out to the street and started walking, hand in hand. He hopped into the street and waved down a cab. “Huh, where are we going?” I questioned. “To mine,” he replied with a smirk. We kissed and let our hands explore the whole cab ride. In between passionate throws, I caught the cab driver watching through the rear-view mirror. He smirked, shaking his head, looking away. “You can just drop us off here please,” Richard told the driver. Richard paid and hopped out of the cab, leaving me to follow. I bumped my head on the way out, making the driver chuckle whilst pulling away. He led me to his place and unlocked the door. We went right to his room and I laid on his bed. It started with another single, most perfect kiss and ended with one to the forehead. “Lets take a bit of a snooze, shall we?” he asked. I fell asleep, nestled in his arms and it felt like pressing that last puzzle piece into the puzzle. It wasn’t long until there was another kiss, though… followed by another to the forehead. And then there was one more kiss, followed by one to the cheek, the nose, the temple, the forehead. And then we fell asleep. It wasn’t long until sunrise, I woke up to the sound of rain on his roof and I gave him a peck on the forehead. “Good morning,” I whispered. He made the cutest morning noises, moans and groans and squeaks escaping his vocal chords. “Tea?” “I’d love some.” “Do you take sugar?” “Yes.” “I’m sorry we don’t have any. Milk?” “A splash.” “Toast?” “I’d love some.” “Butter? Peanut butter?” “Both,” I said with a smile. He got out of bed and I couldn’t help but say “Nice buns” as he slipped on his robe and disappeared to the kitchen. I slipped on some clothes from the night before and followed him out to the kitchen. He buttered my toast to the sound of the radio news and handed me my mug and plate. We sat and ate breakfast together with smiles on our faces. After he gulped his last sip of tea, he went to shower and I put on the rest of my clothes, my coat, my scarf. We walked together to the tube and got on the train together. We sat in the corner of the back of the train car and he nuzzled into me, laying his head on my shoulder. I kissed his nose. He lifted his head and kissed my face and nuzzled me until my stop. He kissed me goodbye and told me to call him when I return from Scotland. I kissed him back and watched him disappear as the train pulled away. He may be my favorite.
It was getting dark. It was misting. And I was walking home from the tube from art class. I had about the length of the inner circle to walk and i see a man, coming from the other way, on the opposite side of the street. It was still light enough to where I could see that he was disgustingly handsome and in business attire. Blonde. Tall. My cup of tea. And he appeared as if he was looking at me! We continued walking toward eachother, on opposite sides of the street…. and we just stared at eachother the whole time. He smiled and winked and I giggled to myself as we passed eachother. I looked back over my right shoulder with a smile and he was doing the same :P
And now I’ll never see him again.
Would have been cool to see Taylor Swift tonight… good thing no one told me about it…
If anyone doesn’t like what I say in this blog… I do apologize… but, again… it’s MY blog, MY thoughts and it’s whatever I want it to be. Jog on if it doesn’t tickle your fancy… plenty of others out there to read, no?
I wish I was successful, married, and pregnant.
Or maybe a lot. I’m alone crying in my room again. And it sucks.
If it’s meant to be, it will be.
Anyone. I just need someone to talk to. I never thought I’d feel this way in London. Alex broke it off with me. And stupid me looked at all my ex’s pages- going on vacations with the women they left me for, moving on, buying HOMES with girls they moved on with… I just feel so alone. This is awful. I’m having a panic attack. I just want my mom. I need my mom. I might not even get to talk to her for ten + days because of this “Perfect Storm”. I hate this. I need someone to talk to.
I just got back from an amazing vacation to Italy… and now I’m raccoon-faced, surrounded by black-splotched tissues, paralyzed in my chair. I WAS going to do laundry. I WAS going to eat dinner. But now I just want to waste away and puke.
Alex just broke it off with me. In about 5 million pages of text messages. Followed by a repetitive 3 minute phone call that felt like 10 years long. My heart hurts a little. I’m not going to lie, I’m really really upset. I knew I liked him too much. I shouldn’t have let myself like him so much.
And since this has happened… And my mom is busy preparing for a storm thats worse than the Perfect Storm…. and my roommates gone… and my best friend isnt online… nor is my cousin…. and I just told my one friend that I went to Italy with and she just said “youll find someone else”…. I realize how alone I am. I think that’s why I enjoyed Alex so much… He was mine. I wasn’t alone. I still had him if all else failed. But now I am solitary. I’m cold, snotty, and alone.
I leave for Paris in 3.5 days. I get to see my long-time childhood crush… who now has a girlfriend -.- I get to see more couple making out in the streets. This all just sucks. I need someone.
“You get more and more beautiful every time I see you”
Said the man in my bed tonight.
He expressed his concern with me leaving tonight… and it has me freaking out now that he’s left. He basically said he doesn’t want to get any more attached.
I don’t like this. It’s morphing into every other guy I’ve tried it on with.
What is it with their fear of commitment…
What do I do
What am I supposed to feel.
I only want him…