Thursday, 14 March 2013

79 Depression and Orgasms


Having depression is like having an orgasm.

You don’t believe me? Think back to your last orgasm. Put yourself there. Relive it. Think about who you were with (or not as the case may be. No judgers here. ) Think about where you were. Remember how your breathing got heavier....and quicker...oh...oh yes...right there....your heart started beating faster...your body was tingling...oh...oh...you were panting...your head started spinning...oh yes...your muscles tensed....you quivered...the pulsating...the pressure...you wanted it to happen...you wanted to prolong the feeling...you didn’t know what you wanted...you couldn’t focus...oh God...oh God...oh...oh...you were on the edge of what you knew would be the most intense feeling ever...

And to read the rest click here...

Monday, 11 March 2013

26 Bitten by the Dog

Hi you lot,                                                

Hope you are all well. Just wanted to say that I've gone and got myself a new blog called Bitten by the Dog.

Would love it if you would pop over and have a read and pass it on to anyone that you think it might be of use to.

Thanks,
Rapunzel x

Friday, 30 December 2011

36 Tales of a Real Life Romance - The End

I'd asked him, 'Will you still encourage your children to like football even though you don't?'

He'd replied, 'I don't want kids.'

A short and seemingly innocent conversation to anyone listening, but one that changed things forever. It was the beginning of the end of Hands and Rapunzel.

Jeremy Kyle informed me that it was my own fault. He said I'd scared Hands off by asking if I could have his babies so soon in the relationship. I tried to point out that it was a general query about children that had revealed this news. There was no second part to the question where I'd asked '...and also can I be the mother of these kids that may or may not like football?' I hadn't even said it under my breath.

Perhaps Jeremy was right though and it was too early to have that talk, even if it was unwittingly. It was definitely too soon to know whether I'd want to invite Hands to a breeding party, but when is the right time to know whether it's a guest list he'd ever even want to be on? We were on Date 8. How many more dates until it would have been acceptable chat? My friend was adamant that as we were at a certain age he should have mentioned it straight away, perhaps on Date 1 when he said that he'd never wed or bred he could have added that he didn't fancy the latter in the future either. 'Then you would've known if you were on the same page from the outset,' she added wisely.

Perhaps, because several dates on and just as I was really falling for him, I felt sick to discover that we weren't, and in fact were reading from completely different books.

We didn't discuss it anymore and just continued having a lovely evening. We didn't need to talk about it. We both knew that there was no point carrying on when we wanted different things. We both knew it was the end.

As Hands drove me back to Manchester the following day I spun my ring round my finger trying to concentrate on not crying.

'I'm going to miss your big rings,' he said.

'I'm going to miss big you,' I replied.

He pulled up at the Tower, we said a quick goodbye and I got out of the car.

A group of guys in a taxi waiting at the lights nearby rolled down their window and shouted at me.

'Hey gorgeous! Come with us!'

So I did. And cheekily blew a kiss at Hands as off I went to party with my new friends.

Nah I didn't really. I was too emotionally drained. I just went in to my apartment block. But secretly prayed that Hands had heard what they'd said.

He texted me later to see how I was and added that from what he'd witnessed when he dropped me off, he didn't imagine that I'd be single for long.

Maybe not but I'll never forget my short-lived, but lovely, real life romance with the guy with the big hands.


THE END

Thursday, 29 December 2011

25 Tales of a Real-Life Romance - Chapter 24

Who knows what went through Hands' mind when I said that there was something I needed to tell him about myself.

I wouldn't say he exactly looked eager to hear whatever I had to reveal. I'd probably use the word nervous instead. I nearly changed my mind about telling him the truth, but couldn't think of anything quickly enough to say instead. Plus I could almost definitely guarantee that what I was going to announce was nowhere near as bad as the options going through his mind. I took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

'I'm a blogger.'

I waited.

And waited a bit more.

I couldn't read his expression. Damn. Hurry up Hands.

Then finally...

'What's a blogger?'

Oh. Definitely not the reaction I was expecting. I was a bit relieved though. He could hardly be annoyed by something he didn't know anything anything about could he?

Mains, tiramisu and coffees later and Hands could have chosen blogging as his specialist subject on Mastermind. I'd told him all there was to know. I'd explained about the whole blogging community, the people I've met through writing a blog, the time I went on a blind date to Belfast with another blogger, blogs that I read, blogs that I've written. I made it all sound so amazing that when he asked if I'd ever posted about him (see he'd even got the lingo down. I'm such a good teacher) I think he would have been offended if I hadn't.

His final verdict?

'It sounds great. I'd love to read it'

Phewwwweeeeee.

We left the restaurant and made our way to the hotel bar on the 13th floor. As we sat sipping champagne looking at the amazing view and night sky I felt deliriously happy. At that moment there was nowhere else I would rather have been.

I was so glad that I'd told him about the blogging. It actually seemed to have brought us closer together. Not physically. We were already touching as much as allowed in a public place. More in the way that as I'd revealed something about myself that he hadn't been aware of, we were suddenly desperate to know everything about each other. We took it in turns to ask each other questions ranging from the bog standard ones like favourite TV programme?...

Hands - Inbetweeners. Me - Grey's Anatomy...and True Blood...and Dancing on Ice...and The Mentalist and...aaargh I can't possibly pick just one!

To name an unusual fact about ourselves...

Me - I can clasp my hands at my back and get them to my front without unclasping them. Hands - I don't like football.

Now who wasn't answering questions properly? I'd given a considered answer involving my double-jointedness, his was just about football. I suppose it was fairly unusual though. For a guy anyway. I started wondering what he'd talk to the men in my family about when he met them cause that is the universal male ice-breaker isn't it? Then I had a stern internal word with myself about not being one of those girls that daydreams about family introductions and white meringues and such-like things so early on in a relationship. It was only date eight after all. I put my 'playing it cool' head back on.

It obviously wasn't screwed on properly though. That's the only reason I can think of for why I then asked the following question. The seemingly innocuous, but ultimately immortal question...

'Will you still encourage your children to like football even though you don't?'

'I don't want kids.'

Oh. For the second time that night I'd been surprised by his response. Only on this occasion my heart also sank.

Wednesday, 28 December 2011

33 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 23

'So how did it go?' Jeremy Kyle enquired on the Monday morning. He was referring to my night in the hotel with Hands the weekend prior.

'Not good unfortunately,' I replied.

'It's your own fault,' Jeremy said after I'd recounted the sorry tale. 'What did you expect to happen after you told him that? No man would want to hear that so early into a relationship.'

I should add that JK was presenting the programme I was working on. I wasn't appearing on his show. Things weren't that bad. Or were they?

I'd been giddy with excitement when Hands had picked me up on the Saturday afternoon. Despite the fact that I spent the first six months of my life in a hotel that my dad was managing and for the last four summers I've done a job making videos of hotels abroad for tour company websites (by my reckoning I've probably filmed at at least 300) and I've practically been living in a hotel for three years (or above one anyway) you would imagine that going to a hotel was the last thing I wanted to do. It wasn't. I love hotels. Plus the fact that I would be sharing the experience with a certain large-handed man was adding to the appeal.

We arrived and followed the unwritten obligatory procedure that is required after checking in to your room...in that we opened drawers and wardrobes to see how much space there was, even though we weren't going to be using them. We switched on the TV to see how many channels there were, even though we wouldn't be watching it. We exclaimed at the prices for room service, even though we wouldn't be ordering from it. We lay on the bed to test how comfortable it was, even though we weren't intending to do much sleeping in it...er...I mean even though it wouldn't really matter for one night.

Law of hotels completed we got ready and went out for dinner. We found a lovely little family-run Italian nearby, the kind of place where you discover that you've been pronouncing bruschetta wrongly when they read back over your order. The kind of place where the staff are so attentive that by the time you leave you are ciao, ciaoing and kissing like old friends.

A while later and on our garlicky main courses (we'd discussed it and decided it was ok seeing as we'd only be kissing each other) for some reason I felt it was time to tell Hands that I was a blogger.

I've no idea why I decided then was my opportune moment. It may have had something to do with the Prosecco I was drinking. Who knows. I'd made my mind up though and went for it.

'There's something I need to tell you about myself...'

His face dropped and I could see various options flitting through his head. I felt sure that they would all be worse than what I was about to tell him. Wouldn't they?

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

35 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 22

Now where was I?

Ah yes. In chapter 21 I'd hoped surmised that Hands and I were in a Relationship because we'd been ticking lots of the 'Things you do in a Relationship' boxes. Things like arguing and having him cook for you. I was just about to tell you about us putting a tick beside 'meeting the parents' when all manner of things got in the way of me blogging. If anyone is still reading then this is what happened.


Meeting the Parents

By 'parents', I mean concierges. And by 'met', I mean, 'encountered'.

His arrival to my apartment had been pain-free. I'd buzzed him in and up he'd come. The concierges probably thought he was just a regular good-looking guy on his way to visit some lucky lady. I knew things would be different on the way out though, when they'd put two and two together (or in this case, one and one) and they'd realise that the fortunate girl was me.

I wondered how on earth I could sneak a 6ft 5 bloke past without them noticing. I contemplated asking Hands to go commando (and crawl along the floor like a soldier, as opposed to not wearing underwear) but realised that was a ridiculous idea. He'd end up filthy and I didn't want people to think I was taking a tramp out for dinner. Instead as we exited the lift, I whispered to Hands that as we walk past the front desk he was to keep looking straight ahead and leave the rest to me.

I thought we were doing quite a good job. We'd both got the nonchalant walk down pat despite having no time to practice. I trilled 'Hi' as we passed so as not to arouse suspicion. We'd almost made it out the door when...

'Er, wait a minute...'

Damn.

'Where do you think you're going?'

'I'm going out,' I replied, feeling like a teenager.

'But it's a Saturday night...you're not allowed out.'

'Says who?' I replied starting to sound a bit petulant. I was at the risk of being grounded.

'Says you!' they laughed.

They were referring to a comment I'd once made when I'd come home from an evening out and announced that I was too old for Saturday nights and they were only for young people. Young people who don't mind music so loud that you can't hold a conversation. Young people with stamina for lots of queues (the queue to get in, the four people deep queue at the bar to get a drink, the queue for the ladies etc, etc.) Young people who don't feel the cold and therefore don't need to wear jackets.

I then said that if they ever saw me heading out on a Saturday they were to stop me and tell me no.

Obviously I didn't mean it. I'd only said it once. I was a bit tipsy at the time so it really shouldn't count.

It's not like they remember all my drunken chat. They've never mentioned the time pre-Hands that I asked if they'd find me a boyfriend and I insisted the only criteria I had was that he be able to drive and swim. They've never mentioned that. And in actual fact they should have mentioned that. They should have taken me aside for a little word the next morning and said that a nice girl like me could aim a bit higher when searching for a man. Perhaps look for someone that can ride as well.

'We're only going for dinner' I said, as if that would make it better and suddenly they'd forget it was Saturday.

'It's still Saturday night,' they said.

'I won't be late.'

'Ok we'll let you go just this once. Back before midnight though or we'll be locking the doors,' they jested.

At least I think they were joking. I didn't find out because despite having a lovely meal Hands and I were more interested in each other than our surroundings, and decided we'd be as well going back to mine.

'Look I've brought her back before she turned into a pumpkin!' Hands announced to the concierges as we entered the Tower at 11:45.

'Well done lad. You can come again.'


The Doubts Start

My concierges may have approved of Hands, but I was starting to have some concerns. I may have given the impression that everything was going hunky dory with my hunk, but there was an issue. One big issue. I'd tried to ignore it, but when I went to work on the army base during the week it became more and more obvious, and more and more of a problem.

Hands doesn't give good phone.

Our texts were great, our emails were even better and we were fluent in body language but our phone conversations were below par. We just didn't seem to know what to say to each other. I know you could say that it takes two to maketh a conversation and I should shoulder some of the blame for our crap chat, but I've never had this problem with anyone else. I think I'm quite good on the phone. I've certainly had lots of experience over the years. Once I even did it for five hours with an ex. No, it must be all Hands' fault.

During one such chat (for want of a better word) I decided to fill an awkward silence by recounting an incident that I'd had earlier in the day. I told Hands about how when I'd gone to take the radio mic off a soldier we'd been filming, he'd obviously got confused about why I was moving in to his personal space and kissed me. I couldn't stop laughing as I explained how embarrassed I was, and how embarrassed the guy was when he realised the real reason that I'd approached him.

Hands reaction? 'Oh right.'

'That's all he said?' Taggart asked me. I'd made some excuse to Hands to get off the phone and had called her straight away for her opinion.

'Yes,' I said miserably. 'Maybe we just aren't meant to be? Everything else is great but it's just hard work on the phone. And we clearly have a different sense of humour. He didn't even find that story slightly funny.'

'I thought it was hilarious!' Taggart said. She had. She'd been practically wetting herself when I told her. Unfortunately it wasn't Taggart that I wanted to bump uglies with.

The next day I had an email from Hands.

Sometimes I find your Scottish accent really difficult to understand, particularly when you are laughing. I have no idea what that story was you were trying to tell me last night! We obviously need to spend more time together to practice so I thought we could go away this weekend. I've already booked us in to a hotel. You just need to say yes!

What on earth had I been worried about? Talking on the phone is overrated anyway right?

Yes, Hands! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

23 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 21

Four dates, almost four months and lots of analysing of texts later, it seemed that Hands and I were finally in a...dare I say it?...relationship.

I couldn't be a hundred percent sure having not been in one for a while, but it certainly resembled one. For starters it was automatically assumed that we'd see each other every weekend. Then all the relationshippy things started happening. You know the things I mean...


The First Argument

Hands and I had got into a routine of taking it in turns to plan our dates. Number five was down to me and I decided that we'd go for dinner in my favourite place in Manchester. The only problem was that we couldn't get booked in until 9.30. I phoned Hands to check that he was ok with that, stressing that I loved the restaurant and it would be worth the wait. He confirmed that it was fine.

Until twenty minutes later he texted to say that he was going to look into other options.

'What?!' Is what I thought.

Firstly what was he doing trying to muscle in on my turn for date arranging? Away and cut someone else's grass.

Plus, what part of 'I hope you're ok with eating late cause it's my favourite restaurant' did he not understand?

I couldn't believe our first argument was about an eating venue. To be fair, Hands didn't actually know that we were having an argument. I didn't tell him. I just seethed internally until he called a while later to say that I was to ignore his last text and we'd stick to the plans that I'd made.

I asked why he'd even thought about making alternative arrangements. Turned out his friend Kev wasn't a fan of the restaurant and reckoned that we should go somewhere else.

Which was weird cause I wasn't aware that I'd invited Kev on the date. Was Kev's opinion of the date that I'd arranged to my favourite place relevant? Hands obviously thought so.

I decided to pretend Hands hadn't said anything. It was far too soon for argument number two...


The First Time You Cook For Each Other

Or rather Hands cooked for me. He did have amends to make for the last rendezvous after all. Plus I didn't want to cook for him. I liked him too much to risk killing him.

Even if I had been contemplating being a brave soldier and making him my speciality dish, crisp butty Thai curry, I lost all confidence after seeing the effort the Hands put in to making dinner for me. The actual cooking, the way he'd set the table and he'd even emailed me a menu that morning.

Starter

Pan seared scallops on a tomato, olive and herb salsa
Accompanied by a 2009 Chardonnay

Main

Moroccan lamb served with tzatziki and sliced pitta
Accompanied by a 2008 Shiraz

Dessert

Me


It was all as good as it sounded. The dessert was my favourite. Things were back on track. Any arguments (what argument?) were forgotten. It was time for the next Relationship step. It was time to meet the parents...