Karma Chameleon

If my brother fell in the river, he would come out with salmon in his pocket. And it would probably already be smoked.

Putting it another way, he is a jammy sod.

He says that it is nothing to do with luck, and all about karma. He reckons that the good things that happen to him, are just repayment for the good deeds he has done for others.

That theory is causing him a problem today though, and knowing how wise you lot are, I'm hoping that you can help him...

Once upon a time this morning, The Bro was on the bus travelling to work when he found a mobile phone. A decent, newish phone. The sort you could sell for a few bob on eBay if you were that way inclined.

That didn't even cross The Bro's mind though. Instead, he saw it as his chance to pay off a karmic debt incurred when he lost his camera with all his photos on while travelling in Australia, and some kindly soul had handed it to the police station.

So The Bro sees that the last number dialled on the phone was 'Mum', and calls her to say that he is in possession of her child's property and would like to return it.

Arrangements are made for collection and The Bro continues with his morning, happy that he's finally karma debt-free.

That is until 'Mum' arrives, thanks him for his honesty, hands him an envelope and tells him to have a drink on her and her son.

'Mum' has clearly heard the myth about Scots being big drinkers, because in the envelope was £40. Enough for quite a few drinks.

This is all very nice but has given my brother a bit of a conundrum. Does that mean he is actually still in debt? Should he be passing on the money to keep the good karma flowing? He reckons that it would make a homeless persons day to be handed £40.

I do have slight concerns with this idea though, as just last week my friend gave a homeless man some money. He was so delighted with her generosity that he gave her a hug and in the process got his blood on her top.

Plus, she'd only given him a fiver. I dread to think what my brother might get if he hands over eight times as much.

I'm unsure what to suggest so I'm handing it over to you. Please help Rapunzel's brother with his dilemma.

Should he pass it on? If so to who? Or in what way? Does he do a few good deeds? Pay someone's bus fare? Buy a stranger a coffee? Put it in a charity collection box?

Or does he do exactly as 'Mum' told him and have a drink or few this weekend and feel happy in the knowledge that he's a lucky devil?!

My Hug For You

Who wouldn't want to receive an email titled 'My Hug For You' first thing on a Tuesday morning?

I was delighted.

Okay I didn't recognise the name of the sender, but if they were happy to give out hugs, I would be happy to receive them.

I opened the mail and started to read...

Good morning!

Please, contribute some time to read this mail and you would not regret about it.

I suppose it would be a surprise for you but I want you to find some time to read this letter. Firstly, I want to answer the first question that you can ask me about “Where I took your e-mail?” 7 month ago, I logged the sugardaddie.com web site. Do you know it? It can be so that you do not remember me but earlier we had a talk there. I do not have an access to the Internet for a long time and that is why I could not send a message you. Now I have it and I guess we can continue our talk.
I think you are also looking for goo relations, right. I suppose that it is the only possibility for me and that is why I decided to send letter for you.

Now I want to tell you about myself. I am Rima. I am 28 years old.I went through pain and suffering during my life. Now I am happy because everything I have now I have achieved by myself. But I have no boyfriend, that is what I want to change my life now. I want to find a man who will understand and help me. He should be not only as a man but a good friend also. I want to open my heart and soul in a full way.
Now I do not depend on somebody and provide own myself. I have a good job,which satisfies all my needs. I lead healthy-life style from my childhood and regularly go in for sports. I do not drink and smoke. If you want to know me better, please, answer to my letter.

I guess we would enjoy of our talk with you. I hope you do not regret that paid attention, read this letter, and will surely reply to me. I am waiting for your answer to start our long and interesting communication. Yours Rima.

What a lovely email. Rima was right - I was glad I'd read it and I certainly did not 'regret about it.'

Admittedly I'm not exactly overjoyed about the fact she has 'outed me' by announcing that I was on sugardaddie.com. I was never going to tell you. I was too embarrassed. She looks so nice in her photo above though, that I don't think I could stay angry at her.

Yes, when I started online dating in a bid to find a man, that was my website of choice. I actually had high hopes for it. I know the usual connotations of a sugar daddy are of rich men who lavish money on poorer, younger females in return for 'companionship' but that's not how it is nowadays is it?

Well yes, actually it is, if the sort of men that contacted me are anything to go by.

There was the one whose first email to me mentioned the size of his appendage.

Or there was the guy who wanted to take me skiing but insisted that I'd have to be 'discreet.'

Actually even my first post about starting online dating will read a whole lot differently to you, now you know that I'd unwisely become a sugarbabe.

Hmmm. It wasn't exactly a success.

Mind you, I might not have any luck finding my Mr Right on it, but it looks like I've made a lovely new friend. I must admit that I can't remember talking to any females when I was a member, but if Rima said I did, then I must have.

It doesn't really matter anyway. Just as long as we've found each other now cause Rima and I have a lot in common.

She wants to find a man who will 'understand and help' her. Me too! I want a man that has no problems with my Scottish accent, and will help me carry my bags when I've been to the supermarket.

She wants to 'open her heart and soul in full way.' Only the other day I was telling my concierge that I wanted to do the same.

She's had 'pain and suffering' in her life. I have as well. Just yesterday I had a bit of a headache.

In fact the only difference is that I'm not looking for a 'goo relationship.' I'm not keen on any kind of 'goo' at all. I find it difficult even when people blow their noses around me cause I think of what is coming out.

Other than that though, I think Rima and I have the potential to become great friends. So you'll understand if I stop blogging it is just that I'm very busy having 'long and interesting communication' with my new BFF.

I'm Single, Let's Mingle

There was a moment the other week that I thought I was going to be a bit like Bob Geldof.

I'd come up with the idea for a brilliant campaign and I felt pretty sure it was going to be become a world-wide phenomenon. Plus, it was going to be a very worthy venture because it would help a large chunk of the population that are really in need but often get forgotten about.

And they are of course...Single People.

My brainwave came about quite by accident. If you remember, last post but one, was about how I'd given out my phone number to a random barman, and despite subsequently discovering that he had a girlfriend, I decided that it was still a good approach. I finished by telling you that I'd had the opportunity to do it again the same week...

Basically I was out with my friend Lu (so named because she is just a 'little un') and we'd just popped into one of our regular haunts for some pub grub, when the barman greeted me with 'I know you!'

I also knew him, but I wasn't sure where from. I don't know about you but I'm terrible for placing people when I see them out of context. I remember being adamant that a fellow diner in a restaurant was from a boyband, when in actual fact he just worked in my local Tescos.

It became clear though, when barman explained that he'd got a new job and just a few weeks before he'd been working in my local bar.

Ah yes, of course.

What was still unclear though, was how he knew that I frequent his previous place of employment, because when he did work there I swear that he never used to pay me the blindest bit of attention.

Unfortunately I can't say the same for me because Mr Barman was so gorgeous I couldn't help but look at him. His face was made to be ogled. It would have been rude not to.

Anyway I decided to ignore the past and concentrate on the fact that Mr Barman was paying me attention in the here and now. (Well they do say that the present is a gift and all that.)

As it was only a few days since my 'success' with Luscious Luke, and I was still feeling ten foot tall and bullet-proof, I decided that I would not be leaving without giving my number to this fittie.

Anyway, cutting a long story short, and bypassing accounts of my attempts to flirt for Scotland, it soon became time for us to leave. Despite being desperate for a wazz, I told Lu that I didn't need and let her go to the ladies alone (Girl in 'Going to Toilet on Her Own' Shocker!) because I was going to make my move...

Okay here goes....

C'mon Rapunzel, you can do it..

I'm sorry readers but I couldn't 'do it'. Turns out I'm a big feardy cat.

I tried to convince myself that it was because I didn't want to become a 'number-giver-outer-floozie'. Also I like that bar he works in and I didn't want to make things awkward for either of us any time I went back in there.

Fact is though, I think I was most worried that he may actually have a girlfriend. Of course he may not have been interested in me full stop anyway.

What if he was though, and just didn't think it appropriate to be making moves on the customers a few weeks into a new job?

If only there was a way for single people to tell that other single people were single.

That's when I had a brainwave...

People could wear something to indicate their single status. Like those traffic light nights where people wear certain coloured clothes depending on what they are 'up for' that evening. This would be a daily thing though, similar to those that are married wearing a ring.

There starteth my idea for a campaign. It was going to be brilliant!

I mentioned it to my mum, thinking she'd feel proud about how clever her daughter is. She just wanted to know what I'd envisaged people wearing. Her suggestion was a sticker.

Yep, a sticker. Seriously.

Okay I might not have come up with anything definitive but I knew for sure that 'a sticker' was a pants idea. For starters you never know when you might meet your Mr or Mrs Right so should be advertising your singleness at all times.

I can just imagine if I'd turned up for work at the Breast Unit wearing my 'I'm available' sticker. I'm pretty sure that my new boss would have promptly called my temp agency to express concern that it seemed I was more interested in picking up doctors than typing up letters.

Nope that definitely wasn't going to work. I called my brother to tell him what a silly suggestion my mum had made and asked for his ideas. Imagine my surprise when he informed me that my whole campaign was shit.

He pointed out that if us single girls were wearing a ring, bracelet, t-shirt, tattoo, sticker or whatever, that announced we were unattached, we could no longer ward off any minging guys that approached us, with the excuse that we have a boyfriend.

Oh yeah. I could see his point. And I didn't have any comeback for him.

So that was the end of that. My time as a campaign leader lasted for a mere...ooh...half an hour.

Unless you have any suggestions on how to make it work that is? Come on, unweds need you! Help singles mingle!

Keeping Abreast

Boobs, breasts, mammaries, jugs, knockers, hooters, bazookas.

Whatever you call them. They've been on my mind a lot over the last few weeks.

I suppose it is understandable really, as I've just had a boob job.

Oh wait, that doesn't sound right does it?

My brother did warn me not to say that. I thought he just meant it was best not to say I'd been temping in a hospital breast unit. Just in case people think I don't want to work in TV anymore, and stop contacting me about jobs.

I realise what he was actually getting at now though.

It was too late anyway, cause I'd already told quite a few people about my current employment, before my bro offered his words of wisdom.

I've had a lot of interesting TV jobs. Like the one where I accompanied a group of agoraphobics to Japan. Or the one filming a board game convention in Vegas, or the hamster competition in Bolton. Or the one where I attended 999 calls with the police. Or the one with Ricky Hatton, as he prepared for his big fight. Or the extremely difficult one, that involved spending my days meeting male models.

Weirdly though, people have shown a lot more interest in my job in the breast unit, than they have in any of those ones.

Men in particular. Strange.

Fishy went so far as to say that it sounded like his dream job. I was quite surprised. He doesn't strike me as the sort whose life ambition is to be a medical secretary. I suppose you never can tell though.

It wasn't bad as temp jobs go. My role involved typing up letters about boobs and moobs.

Strictly speaking, those aren't the actual terms that are used. I'm sure it is only a matter of time till they are though, cause it is very important to keep up-to-date.

I hope when they do have a revamp of their terminology, they have a look at some of the other expressions they use at the same time. In particular the one where they say 'on examination, both breasts were unremarkable.'

I mean how rude is that?!

To me that is a 'good news, bad news' situation.

"Well madam, the good news is that you have nothing to worry about regarding lumps and bumps etc...but the bad news is that your boobs aren't even worth a mention."

I discussed this with my friend Tony. He assured me that this was factually inaccurate. He said that all breasts are worth commenting on. Regardless of size. He said there had even been surveys done on this very matter.

Actually, now that I think about it, I might have made up the survey bit. He was pretty insistent that he knew what he was talking about though. As if he had boob knowledge. Like he was some kind of an expert.

While we were on the the subject, I should have asked him a few questions that I have about boobs. In particular, the ones that I have about topless sunbathing.

I get quite confused, because it seems there are a lot of unwritten rules surrounding this matter.

For example, we all know that some people should never see your breasts. Like your plumber, or bank manager perhaps. Apart from the fact that the situation wouldn't arise, it just isn't deemed appropriate.

Isn't there an unwritten rule though that states that this no longer applies on the condition that you are abroad?

It is even okay for your plumber and bank manager to have had an eyeful, if they are holidaying in the same resort. (Provided that you aren't on a staycation...)

Or what about the rule that suggests topless sunbathing is only allowed near water?

Think about it. It is a perfectly acceptable activity to do when you are on the beach. Or by your hotel pool. Isn't it?

Getting your bits out in a city centre park is just that bit more controversial though.

It must have something to do with water somehow. Which might also explain my next query.

It is fine to do some activities topless. Playing games for example. No-one seems to mind too much, when a woman partakes in a game of semi-naked bat and ball.

As soon as that very woman decides the game is making her thirsty though, it is necessary for her to put on her bikini top before going to buy a drink.

And this seems to apply even if the pool bar is only a few metres from where she was previously jiggling around trying to bat the ball.

Hmmm. It's a minefield out there concerning breast etiquette.

Anyway the reason I've posted about this is so that I can apologise to my friend Roy. (Of course there is a reason for it. You don't think I'd just do a post about chests for no reason do you? I very much doubt I could write much about them anyway. They aren't even that interesting.)

Roy was out for a Nandos with me and my friend Kelly. My job was mentioned and the conversation moved on to how difficult it is to buy nice bras when you are larger sized in that department. Poor Roy had to sit there and endure this rather lengthy chat.

He did say that is was okay and actually said it was 'refreshing' to be out with two ladies while we all thought, and chatted, about boobs and bras.

I'm sure he was only being nice though, and it is quite probable that we put him off his lunch. Particularly as he was having chicken breast.

Luke No Further

Now where were we, before we were rudely interrupted by some ignoramus?

Ah yes, I was telling you about the infamous BNO (Bloggers' Night Out) and how, for some unknown reason, I had thought it a good idea to give my phone number to a barman, otherwise known as Luscious Luke.

You may be thinking that it doesn't sound like such a terrible idea. Fact is though, he hadn't actually asked for my number, or even suggested that he might want it. Unless you believe that by telling me I had a bad attitude, he might be doing it subliminally?

Anyway what's done is done. There was no changing it. I just hoped, as we settled ourselves at a table in the next bar, that everyone would forget about it.

And I think we all did. At least for the fifteen minutes that passed before my phone beeped to indicate I'd received a text. At that point we all squealed. Like girls.

'Open it! What has he said?'

I did so. Praying that it wasn't actually a text from my mum. And wondering if I should pretend it was from Luscious Luke anyway if it was.

There was no need though, as there in my inbox was a message from an unknown number.

For some attitude?x

You would have thought by our reactions that we'd just heard about a shop giving away free shoes. Or that they'd discovered a cure for menstruating or something. My fellow bloggers were as excited as I was!

Result! Luscious Luke had texted me. And put a kiss! I was soooo in there.

We all set to work on a reply and eventually decided on, I will bring the attitude, if you bring the cocktails...

Okay, we'd had no male input and as there was only one attached person in our group of five, you wouldn't say we were exactly qualified in matters of lurve, but we were pretty proud of that text regardless. We reckoned that it was flirty, hinted at a date and we thought that the fact I hadn't put a kiss would keep him on his toes.

It wasn't long before the reply came through.

What's your name mystery Scottish woman?x

Hmmm he hadn't taken the date bait but it wasn't bad. And he'd put a kiss again.

I replied telling him it could be whatever he wanted it to be. Nah of course I didn't text that! I'd told him to guess and asked him his (even though I already knew it was Luke, Luscious Luke to me.) And so it went on.

All too soon it was the end of our BNO. We bade each other farewell, vowed to do it again and I promised to keep them up to date with the future installments of the LL saga.

Twas the very next day that there was a further development when I received the following text from my friendly barman.

Don't want to string you along, I have a girlfriend, just thought you were lovely x

I don't mind telling you that I cried when that message came through. I cried with frustration about yet another guy being attached and I wondered when I'll ever meet someone that isn't.

What I do mind though, is if you believed that statement above. Of course I didn't flipping cry!!! I don't even know the guy. How can I be upset about someone that I don't know from Adam? I was actually quite pleased to get that text. Pleased that he'd told me before I invested any time, and of course pleased about the compliment.

(Please see example above, Mr Lekker and any other attached men. Note that most of us females like our men single, and the sooner we find out that you aren't, the better. Before the first kiss is preferable. We can be weird that way.)

I replied to him thanking him for telling me. There were another few texts between us. General chit-chat about how long we'd both been in Manchester yadda yadda.

He asked me how old I was. I told him to guess. He replied 22,23. I agreed that I was thereabouts (give or take 11 or 12 years.)

I asked how old he was. He replied that he was 24. I laughed.

I asked if he had an older, single, brother. He doesn't.

And that was pretty much the end of that.

The verdict: It maybe didn't have the desired result, but now I know that he's a mere baby, 10 years my junior, I'm not sure that the desired result would have been the desired result anyway, if you get my drift?

Plus it gave all us girls a laugh, as well as giving me an ego boost. Also, I'd asked him his opinion on my technique, whether he thought that giving him my number was too forward. He replied that it wasn't, as he 'probably would have bottled' asking for mine anyway. So you see sometimes us girls have to make the first move.

So all in all, I have no regrets. In fact I reckoned I'd even do it again.

And whaddya know, the opportunity came up just a week later...

Blooming Marvelous

It isn't always easy telling someone that the relationship is over.

Even more so when you aren't even in the damn relationship in the first place!

I'd received an email t'other day. It started 'Hi Rapunzel, I'm not a nutter by the way...' I probably should have stopped reading at this point, because everyone knows that the ones that say they aren't weird, are the weirdest ones.

I continued though. It was from a guy telling me that he likes my blog, blah blah, thought I seemed nice, and was wondering if I would like to go out for a drink sometime.

That doesn't sound too bad does it? What about the next bit though, when he carried on to explain that he'd been dating one of my fellow bloggers?

A fellow blogger that had been on the BNO. A fellow blogger that has become a friend. A fellow blogger that in actual fact I thought he was still an item with, as I hadn't heard anything to the contrary.

Strange.

They'd obviously split up though. He wouldn't be mailing me otherwise would he?

It was still a bit weird though. For starters he doesn't actually know my current situation, seeing as I haven't continued with the Luscious Luke story. He might actually be cutting Luke's grass by messaging me.

Plus, wasn't it a bit soon for him to be pursuing me? It was only the other week I was reading about one of his dates with Tuppence over on her blog. Surely there is some Bloggers' Code that disallows this kind of thing? Or was it within the rules as long as Tuppence came along on the date and did some kind of handover?

I mentioned it to Tuppence a few days later. Mainly because I was curious to find out what had happened between them. I also asked if she knew he'd emailed me.

She didn't. In fact she also wasn't aware that they weren't actually seeing each other anymore.

I had unwittingly become the bearer of bad news.

How shit did I feel? Plus Tuppence was having a horrible day as it was, and my mail made things worse. I cursed myself for my bad timing.

I tried to remind myself that I wouldn't have had anything bad to tell her in the first place, if it wasn't for Mr Couldn't Give A Shit About Anyone's Feelings, but it didn't help. I went to bed feeling annoyed that he'd got me involved in something that had absolutely nothing to do with me. Arse.

When I woke up this morning to the radio presenter wishing everyone a good day, I felt a lot more positive though. Yep, it was a brand new day and there was no reason why it couldn't be a tremendous one. I left the apartment feeling pretty perky.

And was almost run over by a guy on a bike! Who then had the cheek to shoot me the dirtiest look ever as if it was my fault. How on earth could it be? I was on the flipping pavement!

Feeling a bit shaken I made my way to the bus stop. I proceeded to try and distract myself from my near death experience, by sussing out some of the features on my new phone.

I was so engrossed that I didn't notice the bus heading towards me...

...and driving right past me.

I cursed my stupidity. I was going to have to wait another 15 minutes for the next one.

Actually make that 25 minutes, because the bloody bus was late. I wasn't impressed.

Then when I got on it, the only seat that was free was next to a guy that seemed to think we all wanted to hear the pumping music he was playing on his iPod.

Seriously what is with these people? It's my pet hate. The headphones are there for a reason. I would have told him to turn it down, but the way my day was going I'd thought I'd probably end up getting lynched. I just sat gritting my teeth instead.

Finally the bus reached my stop. I'd made it!

Or not. Seems the bus driver forgot there was a stop there today and drove right past it, stopping instead at the next one an extra five minutes' walk away from work.

As I trekked the miles and miles to work I did my very best to start thinking positively. Just because the day had started badly didn't mean it was going to continue like that.

It was too late though, my ratty head was on and it was refusing to budge. The day carried on with me being irritated by everything and anything.

It was annoying me that I was having to sit inside, while it was a beautiful day outside.

As was the fact that I'd forgotten my phone charger and hardly had any battery.

The noise my watch makes was also driving me insane. Okay, I've worn it every day since I bought it from a looky looky man in Gran Canaria the other month, but today the 'tick, tick, tick' was making me contemplate chucking it out the window.

The fact the watch is made by Dimpex was also getting on my nerves as it reminds me of Tampax and I wasn't happy that thoughts of feminine hygiene products and periods were popping into my head every time I checked to see how much longer of this godforsaken day I had to endure.

Nothing was too big or too small to piss me off.

Hell, it even bugged me when I saw a woman wearing a red cardigan that didn't go in the slightest with her pink blouse. I cursed her for hurting my eyes.

Things did seem on the up though when I went to buy a bottle of water and the guy serving me told me he liked the purple in my hair.

Until he added 'You need your roots done mind you, but I still like it.'

Home time couldn't come quick enough.

I don't think I've ever been so pleased to see the Tower looming above me. I'd made plans to park myself in front of the TV watching programmes about other people's misery.

But wait, what was this?

There in my mailbox was a note saying I'd had a delivery of flowers.

Ohmigod! Who had sent me flowers?! How exciting! And what a surprise!

Suddenly the day didn't seem so bad.

Except turns out there had been a bit of a mix-up and the note about the flowers had been put in the wrong mail box. Someone had received some flowers, just not me.

I'm just glad it is only a few hours until Tomorrow.

Flirtini

Give me a B!
Beeeeee!

Give me an N!
Ennnnnnnnn!

Give me an O!
Ohhhhhhhh!

And what have you got?
The Bloggers' Night Out!

Yes, it finally happened. The night we had been talking about for weeks. The night when five strangers were meeting. The night when we were going to see whether Kate, Tuppence, Gingerella, Helen and myself would get on.

Sure we all had blogging in common, and we'd discovered that we are all fond of a cocktail or two, but would that be enough?

Well, you'll be happy to know that it was. It was slightly like being on a bizarre blind date. A group blind date at that. But a good group blind date.

Perhaps that was down to the fact that there were no awkward silences. We may not have met before but we already knew a hell of a lot about each other. I mean I know some things about those girls that I don't even know about some of my oldest friends. Especially that Tuppence one. She has a private blog that you need a password to read. She writes some things on there that would make you blush!

Anyway everything had been going swimmingly. We'd first met in a bar, drank some wine and all gave a little spiel about ourselves.

'Hi I'm Rapunzel. I live in that tower you can see. I'm 33. I like men with big noses. I don't like mushrooms. I once served Cliff Richard while wearing a sari.'

Just the usual stuff like that.

We then moved on to the noodle bar Tampopo to line our stomachs with food, before heading for cocktails as planned.

Gingerella and I went to the bar and waited patiently while the very attractive barman made drinks for the people in front of us. It was just like seeing Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Except he didn't throw anything in the air and it took him flipping aaaages to make the drinks.

He also didn't give as good service as Tom. Unless I missed the bit in the film where Tom told one of his customers that she had a bad attitude, which is exactly what this barman Wannabe Tom was telling me.

He also said something about me having a moany face, rubbish accent and asked Gingerella how she puts up with me (she didn't tell him that she actually didn't know me before that night and instead said I was really nice. Bless!)

I wouldn't have minded so much except I'd barely opened my mouth. I was about to argue with him but when he gave me my drink and said it was on him, I decided to forgive him.

We eventually rejoined the others and continued with our night. Chat, chat, chat.

I can only imagine that at some point there was a lull in the conversation or something though. An awkward silence that needed filling, because there was surely some reason for me suddenly asking the girls whether I should give the barman my phone number.

'Don't be ridiculous Rapunzel. That's a rubbish idea. What part of him slagging you off made you think he actually wants your digits?'

Is what they should have said to me. What they actually said though was..

'Yeah great idea! We'll get you a pen!'

So we were all sorted. I had the note prepared with my number on it and the message 'Call this number for attitude' (smooth I know!) All I had to do was hand it to him, which I was going to do as we were leaving. Easy peasy.

No, not so easy peasy. As we headed out past the bar and I saw the throng of people waiting to be served that I'd have to push though, I lost my nerve.

'I can't do it,' I said to Kate.

'Sure you can.'

I couldn't. I started to make my way out the bar. She stopped me and gave me a pep talk (what a good friend) causing a couple of guys near us to ask what we were talking about. So she told them (hmmm not such a good friend!) and one of them claimed that he knew the very barman we were talking about.

'Luke, Luke,' he shouted across the crowd. Luscious Luke eh? 'She wants you,' he said pointing at me.

Suddenly I felt like I was back at school when Sadie Cook asked Bobby Walker if he'd noticed that I'd started wearing a bra.

I felt mortified. What should I do?

Well,what I did do was decide that I couldn't feel any more embarrassed than I already did. I went up to Luscious Luke, handed him my number, told him it was his tip and then exited the bar while the girls cheered.

I felt brilliant! I felt empowered! I felt invincible!

For about..ooh...two minutes. Right up until I realised what a stupid idea that had been. What had possessed me?

I mean I might never hear from Luscious Luke for various reasons, including...

1/ He may be gay
2/ He may have a girlfriend
3/ He may not like me (I'd suggested to him that he was only giving me abuse because he fancied me and he hadn't actually confirmed my theory)

All good, valid reasons and if I never heard from him I would just pick one to explain why I hadn't (probably number 1).

That would be fine if I was the only one that knew I'd handed out my damn number willy nilly in the first place.

That wasn't the case though. No, in this case there were four other girls that knew. Four other blogging girls. Four blogging girls with lots of readers.

Was I no longer going to be known as the girl that was brave enough to go out with Fishy? Instead would I become the girl that embarrassed herself on the BNO......?