My mum met some idiot men when I was growing up....which is probably why my taste in men also leaves a lot to be desired....but her meeting *Peter was a gamechanger for all of us.
They met when my mum was a barmaid in a working mans club. Peter just happened to be there that day. He bought her a drink and asked her out.
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a caravan.
She used to have a house but then she used to have a lot of things. That disappeared, like magic...."Poof!!"....
When her husband left her to "go and find himself " which, the girl later discovered, involved hotel rooms in Brighton and a mysterious other woman.....
My Barbie was a Super-Model. No matter what I dressed her in, what accessories she wore, she always looked amazing. Because I had no doubt at all that she could rock any style / any colour / any combination - I believed in her.
In my eyes, Barbie rocked. I actually wanted to be her. She set the bar and all of the other dolls followed (in dolls world anyway)....
He's home alone.
For 5 days. His housemate's away. Do I want to come over?.....
That should have been a stupid question. Normally I'd be there like a shot...But right now I don't know.
I'm mulling it over in my head. Pro's and cons. Fantastic sex on tap versus potential emotional fallout. Because as much as I want this guy, I'm not sure I want to play this game any more.
Six months ago when I met him, this would have been top of my wishlist. He's cool. I love hanging out with him. But a lot can change in six months. And I have changed beyond all recognition.
My inner fox is begging me to do this. In the bedroom we are fluid. We know instinctively what to do to blow each others heads off. The last person to make me come was him. In a hotel room. Booked last minute because we couldn't bear to wait a second longer than we had to before we got naked. Just us....our massive desire for each other, and two novelty toothbrushes that we grabbed from the Co-op along the way....
Check-in took forever.
And then it was just the two of us. In the same room. Unable to keep our eyes or our hands off each other.
We didn't make breakfast....
It was awesome.
A repeat would be incredible. More of the same and God only knows what else. There's only one problem.
I'm not a booty call. His or anyone else's.
I would love to do this. He knows my body better than i know it myself. And vice versa. But after my journey through detox and rehab and looking back at all of the wrong turns and "not quite right" men that have got me to this point, where I am now sat here writing this, I've realised that I don't want it.
Because the next person I get naked with is going to want more than just five days. I don't want to be strung along, promised the earth and then be left dangling. It's insulting. And bad for my self esteem. I've been through enough now. I'd rather be by myself.
I've never been able to say that before. But it's true.
He's messaging me as I write this. Small talk. Chit chat. Building up to the main event. Which would involve me and him getting naked and picking up from where we left off...I can't say I'm not tempted....
Except it's not going to happen. He can call all he likes. It doesn't mean that I have to pick up the phone..for the first time ever I'm putting my emotional needs first.
Because if this is a booty call then I've done myself a favour....I don't need the headfuck, and if it isn't, well....he needs to raise his game and show me that it's more.
God, this feels weird. Like I've been swapped. With someone who actually has some self-respect....
Wow. Go me....it's only taken me 30 odd years to find some....
Having us compete against each other to see which team could make the best midget gem bridge was the brain child of one of the support workers in detox. It was supposed to keep us out of mischief for an hour while the rest of the staff had a much needed cup of tea.
Unfortunately all it did was create chaos; For two reasons.
One : We were none of us five years old. And told her so. And two : You don't give recovering addicts with an insatiable craving for sugar, sweets. Everyone knows that. It sent us crackers.
Haribo was literally currency in there. Tangfastics were like gold dust by the end of each week. It's all we ever put on our shopping lists. Haribo's, and tobacco if you smoked.
Anyway, three quarters of the midget gems were gone before she'd even got our attention. Which meant that we had uneven numbers of sweets to play with which made it unfair. Which meant that it was a pointless exercise. We ate the rest of the sweets while we relayed this information to her when she came to check on our progress. Which was basically none existent... Much to her dismay.
It was hilarious....
Her day got progressively worse when I refused to take part in the second lesson which involved making a tower out of marshmallows and dried spaghetti. Again, because I am not five years old.
She tried to insist; told me to "let my inner child out to play"....to which I replied that my inner child had already consumed far too many e-numbers for one day thank you very much, and would therefore be much better off if left to read her book quietly on the sofa - in case all of the midget gems she'd consumed in record time earlier made her sick.....Long story short. I didn't have to make the tower. 1-0 to me.
Up until this point I had been completely compliant in treatment. I hadn't dared say no to anything....but now my inner rebel was starting to stir. Which meant that I was getting better. I was finding my voice. It was time to start thinking about getting out of here and onto stage two.
I had been a model patient in detox. They were going to love me in rehab.....