Kissed a barman a few weeks ago. Not necessarily a cunning plan. Now, I like barmen. They are usually charming, flirty, sociable. And, let’s be honest, they tend to ply one with drink. But, if you’re looking for someone who you can see during the daylight hours, like vampires and porphyriacs, they’re just not the most clever choice. But it’s been a while, so I ignored my internal voice of reason (which sounds suspiciously like my mother) and well, went there.
So after few weeks filled with lovely kisses, some rather smutty sms’s and some serious lack of sleep (out of the gutter I’m used to a hot bath and an early night rather than shooting Jaegermeister until the wee hours), said barman went arctic.
Naturally, I was curious.
Me: ‘So, why you back off’
Barman: ‘Might be dating someone else’
Ask a silly question!
Anyway, so that was that. Not one to mash and ponder the whys and wherefores, I was nevertheless in a quandry. I was all reminded of how delicious lovely kisses and late night flirting can be. So I soothed the bruised ego, thanked the ‘kick-in-the-pants’ gods for another nudge into life and lamented the loss of a really lovely drinking establishment.
And moved happily on.
Then,last night, snuggled in my snake pit, struggling through a dire book, I get a sms:
Him: ‘Are you alright? Ain’t seen you in a while.’
Me: [W.T.F.?] *long pause* ‘I’m fab, thanks darlin’! Been celebrating the old birthday. And you?’
He manages a stupendous ‘happy happy’.
And all I thought was, bless, he thinks I’m pining! And went to sleep.