Tuesday 27 April 2010

26 Dealing with the Dutch

'I think you should buy the book anyway so you're prepared when another guy comes into your life,' the shop assistant advised me, before adding, 'One that will stick around for longer.'

I could have kissed her.

I might even have done so, except for the fact that Mr Lekker probably would have liked witnessing that, and he wasn't exactly my favourite person at that very moment.

This was about an hour into our 'reunion'. I'd been a nervous wreck all morning. Understandably really as I'd never felt about anyone else the way I did about him. So much so, that I even uttered some of the most ridiculous words that have ever come out of my mouth when I said to Taggart that if he proposed to me I would say yes. I was that infatuated. Well, I'd known him for five hours after all. Why waste time?

Obviously I'd made that remark in the beginning when he'd first entered my life and turned it all upside down. I wasn't so keen now that I knew he had a girlfriend. Plus there was the small issue that we hadn't actually spoken in months until he'd called out of the blue to ask if we could see each other.

What did he want? Was he going to explain things? Apologise? Maybe he'd split up with his girlfriend? I had no idea.

All the not knowing was making things very difficult when it came to choosing what to wear. Did I need a 'look at what you are missing out on' outfit? And if I did, what does one of them look like exactly? Or should I just look good, but not too good suggesting that I wasn't that bothered about him? And where is the line drawn between the two looks?

I was happy to see that he'd put as much thought into his outfit as he rounded the corner to our meeting point. He was wearing the exact same thing he'd worn the year before. Sometimes I really wish I was a guy.

I'd felt physically sick until I saw him but as soon as I did my nerves dissipated. I just couldn't believe that Mr Lekker was actually standing in front of me.

We found a quiet cafe and settled down with some coffees. He kept looking at me. Approvingly I hoped. Seems not because he then informed me that I was the same as he remembered, except that I now had purple in my hair and I didn't have it before.

Really Mr Lekker? In actual fact the purple hair was the result of going to a hairdresser in Holland that didn't speak the best English, a few years before. It had been an accident but I'd loved it and had had it ever since. It had become part of my identity and some people even referred to me as 'Purple Heid' (drunk Scottish guys mainly mind you.)

Yes, I was feeling a bit annoyed that he hadn't noticed something so important about me. What on earth had he been looking at that night?

Mind you, I couldn't have been paying that much attention either because I'm sure his teeth were nicer in my memory. As was his attitude for that matter.

The conversation flowed surprisingly easily, considering we were two strangers and one of us was pissed off with the other one.

I finally plucked up the courage to ask him what had happened and why he had stopped contacting me. I wasn't in the slightest bit impressed with his answer and told him so.

'Bloody men. Bloody Dutch men in fact. It's no wonder there is a whole book explaining how to deal with the Dutch.'

Yep, I know that as come-backs go it was extremely weak, but I was in shock. All Mr Lekker cared about on the other hand was the book I'd just mentioned.

'There is really a book about that?'

I told him there was and I'd been given a copy as I arrived to live in Holland. He didn't believe me and suggested that we go to the nearest bookshop. I wasn't really in the mood but was keen to be proved right so agreed.

After failing to find anything on the shelves, Mr Lekker approached a girl at the till. He explained that he had just met a 'lovely' girl, pointing at me, and we needed a particular book so that I could understand how to deal with him (er, that's sooo not why we are here Mr Lekker...)

She checked her computer and said she'd need to order it in which would take a couple of weeks. He replied that would be too late and he'd have gone back to Holland by then. He then turned to me and said he was sorry but he saw no point in continuing our relationship. (Never a truer word said.)

Thank God for female intuition as it was at this point the sales girl suggested I get it for the next man I met. I loved her.

Can't say I felt the same about Mr Lekker. And the reason I didn't was because when I'd asked him earlier to explain his lack of contact, his reply was that he was falling for me and he couldn't be doing that as he'd just got married.

Yep you did read that right. Married with a big, fat capital M!

And don't think for one moment that he was doing the honourable thing and meeting me to tell me all about it and apologise. Was he heck! I'm not sure he would even have mentioned it if I hadn't asked (and as his wedding ring wasn't on the normal finger I wouldn't have realised.)

His reason for meeting me was purely to try his luck again. Which became apparent as soon as he said flirtily to me that he'd never kissed anyone in a bookshop before...then winked at me!

Don't worry readers. I'd learnt my lesson - once a player, always a player. I informed him that he also wouldn't be kissing anyone in a bookshop that day either. I bade him farewell and off I went.

And that was the end of the love story Mr Lekker and Me.


Lessons learned? Turns out I'm quite fickle and need longer than five hours to decide if someone is the perfect man for me.

Morale of the tale? If you do unwittingly find yourself as the third wheel in a relationship involving a famous man, try and ensure that he is not known in the UK so you never have to endure seeing his lying, cheating face on the cover of Heat magazine!

Monday 19 April 2010

21 Double Dutch

I've got a girlfriend...

What? I was confused. I re-read the text that I'd just received from Mr Lekker.

The word 'girlfriend' was jumping out at me. Which would be ok if it was following the words 'do you want to be my...'. Instead this was featuring in a sentence that I really didn't want to be seeing. Nor should I be, because I distinctly remembered asking if he was in a relationship and the answer was definitely in the form of a negative.

...I'm really sorry that I lied to you...

Good, at least I wasn't losing my mind. I had asked him.

...I was having such a good time and I didn't want it to end...

Er, this isn't a trip to the fairground we are talking about Mr Lekker.

I jest, but in reality I was absolutely gutted. I felt sick.

For a start it seemed incredibly unfair. I'd been single for...ooh...cough...a while, and felt that I'd been pretty patient. Did Cupid think it would be a good joke to introduce me to someone that well and truly floated my boat, but someone that was already playing port and starboard with someone else?

As well as that, I was annoyed at the fact that I had suddenly become the 'other woman.' That's not a game I ever wanted to play. Apart from all the usual reasons, I believe that I deserve better than being 3rd place in someone's life (in my opinion these men tend to put themselves 1st, and their partners 2nd.)

I would like to say that at this point I just deleted this text, along with his number and carried on with my life. That's not what happened though (of course if you would prefer to think that is what I did do, then please stop reading now and just avoid any post with anything Dutch-related in the title and you will be none the wiser.) No, the rest of his text was so lovely (damn him and his talent for texting!)that I felt compelled to phone him.

There followed a deep and meaningful conversation where we said how strongly we felt about each other. And ended in us deciding to meet up again.

I know, I know! I'm not sure either how in the space of a morning I'd changed from being someone with morals, to Monica Lewinsky.

The chemistry between us had been almost palpable though, and surely if things were that great between him and his girlfriend he wouldn't be calling me most evenings to say goodnight?

The chats and texts continued as normal. We planned when to meet and started discussing where. England or Holland? (Or somewhere neutral like Switzerland?!) I sent him a text about flights I'd seen.

I didn't get a reply. Weird. That wasn't like him at all. Maybe he hadn't received it?

I sent it again. Still no reply.

I sent a different text. Silence.

My male friends often tell me tales of 'psycho' girls that text them repeatedly and just won't take the hint that they aren't interested in them. I nod and agree that these particular women do sound a bit unstable and I assure them that we aren't all like that. Writing this though I realise I was, albeit for a very brief time, one of those girls!!!!

Of course it all could have been avoided if I'd received a message, something along the lines of...

Hey Rapunzel, great meeting you but by the way I've decided not to contact you again.

Fine - at least I'd know where I stood. No such text arrived though so I presumed that Mr Lekker must have lost his phone. Or be in hospital. Or dead. Cause he wouldn't just stop contacting the girl that he said he was falling for would he?

Of course he flipping would! And thankfully I eventually saw the light myself. Not before sending a few 'Loopy Lou' texts unfortunately but hey, I was emotional.

A Dutch friend suggested that I sell my story over there. I decided against it. Mr Lekker may be famous but he isn't exactly Tiger Woods. Plus my 'kiss and tell' would literally be just that - there was no horizontal fun to speak about. I'd be lucky if anyone would pay enough for a portion of frites and mayo for my non-juicy gossip. Also I'm really not that kind of a girl. I'd never dream of telling stories to a load of people about my personal life.

So life continued. I managed to wean myself off watching Mr Lekker on t'internet. I'd practically forgotten he even existed.

Until months and months later my phone rang from a Dutch number. A Dutch number I vaguely recognised...

I couldn't believe it! I also couldn't hear him. I was in Scotland visiting the parents, in the home of crap phone reception.

I tried everything. Moving to different rooms. Hanging out windows. Apart from the odd word, I had no idea what he was saying. I hung up. In a strop.

Then a text came through...

I'm in Scotland. Are you? Can we meet?

Yes, and hell yes!

Obviously I didn't write that. I played it a bit cool. Inside my stomach was churning though. I couldn't believe that I was going to see Mr Lekker again!

Wednesday 14 April 2010

20 Going Dutch

Have you ever experienced love at first sight?

I have. Well a definite 'Woo hoo look at you!' at first sight anyway. (Of course if I'd ended up married to said crush, then naturally the story would become a tale of how I just knew he was The One the moment I clapped eyes on him.)

Whatever you want to call it though, I definitely believed that I'd been destined to meet the guy in question.

For a start, I shouldn't have even been there that night.

I'd been spending a few days at the Edinburgh Festival with my cousin Paris (of course that's not her real name - we aren't that sort of a family. It'll teach her though, for putting her number in my phone under Ooh La La which was very embarrassing when she'd call me when I was in company and my phone would announce who was ringing. Anyway, I digress...) It was our last evening so we'd decided to make the most of it by seeing a show.

Unfortunately, Lady Luck wasn't on our side and everything we attempted to get tickets for had sold out. So after traipsing all over Edinburgh, we decided to rest our weary legs and sit and assess our options. In the nearest pub.

Paris ordered us drinks while I nipped to the loo. Still feeling exhausted, I opted for using the disabled toilet on the ground floor, as opposed to climbing the stairs up to the ladies. It was a decision that was to change my life forever, because when I came out, there he was...

Mr Lekker.

Mr Lekker from Holland (hence my use of a Dutch term). He called me over to where he was standing with two friends. So I went (proof that destiny was influencing me, as I'm not normally so obedient when it comes to men.)

I told him that I used to live in Holland (see? Definite destiny.) He asked me if I spoke the lingo.

I replied in the positive and added 'neuken in de keuken' as proof.

He laughed.

Whether that was because he thought I was funny, (it translates as 'sex in the kitchen' so works waaay better in Dutch than in English) or whether he was laughing at my pronunciation, I never found out. Regardless of why, it worked a treat because when I invited him and his friends to join us, he accepted!

And so began an amazing evening. When I asked Paris later, for her honest opinion of Mr Lekker she replied that as he'd spent the night attached to my face she'd never actually seen him.

Obviously she exaggerates. For a start I'm not a teenager anymore so wouldn't just abandon a friend to snog a boy, at least not without checking she was ok first (and fortunately for me, Mr Lekker's friends were great company so Paris was fine..!)

We were pretty obsessed with each other though. It was as if no-one else was in the room. We couldn't stop staring at each other and trying to find out as much as we could about one another.

I discovered that he was a comedian (funny - tick! Good with words - tick!) Single (tick!), older than me (tick!)

In fact the only box I couldn't check was for the fact he lived in Holland, while I lived miles away in Manchester. I decided it didn't matter too much though. I mean I used to live there, so had an affinity with all things Netherlands. It just felt very unfair that I hadn't met him then.

Love conquers all anyway doesn't it? So it would be difficult, but not impossible.

I realise now that it was a bit premature to be thinking along these lines, but I was seriously smitten. And the best bit was, he seemed to feel the same.

I bemoaned when we had to say our goodbyes. But when I received a text from him shortly after, saying that meeting me had made his trip, I felt sure that we were at the beginning of something and not the end.

Naturally I googled him at the first opportunity.

Turns out Mr Lekker was pretty famous. He was certainly more successful than he'd let on. This was an added bonus as it meant that there were a lot of clips of him doing stand-up on Youtube. Therefore even though we were separated by miles, I could still see him every day.

OK, I couldn't actually understand him, as contrary to what I said earlier in the post, I can't speak Dutch aside from talking about kitchen sex and muttering a few profanities. You'd think I'd be able to, what with being Scottish and having no problems saying guttural words like 'loch', but unfortunately there is a bit more to Dutch than that. I vowed to start learning though in order to speak to my new man.

Not that it really mattered, as Mr Lekker's English was so good. I was slightly apprehensive about our first phone call, not being face-to-face and unable to suss out body language, but there was no need. Even if there had been difficulties, his texts would have made up for it.

Ah yes, his texts. They were seriously unbelievable.

Obviously I think I'm not too bad with words and quite a good texter, but with him I'd met my match.

I mean what was I supposed to reply to the following..?

When I think of the two of us alone in a room together, I feel kind of feverish, in my head, my skin, my muscles...

Somehow,...Thanks!... just didn't seem to cut it.

Neither did...Funny, I was just saying the same about you earlier...

I thought I'd met my ideal man - funny, intelligent, good-looking and someone that gives good text.

That's until the morning my phone beeped with a message that changed everything...

Thursday 8 April 2010

22 Sweet Stuff

Tuppence over at Tuppenny Tales started blogging around the same time as me. I'm an avid reader of her blog and thought she enjoyed reading mine too.

That is until she wrote a whole post pointing out to her readers that I hadn't written anything for a few weeks. She said that I'm a disgrace to the blogging world and that I shouldn't actually call myself a blogger.

I was gutted.

Until I woke up.

Yes it had just been a dream! Hurrah! (Or should that be nightmare?)

Talk about a relief. Of course I went over to her blog just to double check that it had been a dream. It had. There was no slander of any sort. In actual fact she was being very nice and linking to my post about Mr Trafford Centre, because she was going on a date to the same venue and was praying it wasn't the same guy.

To be honest though, despite the dream/nightmare suggesting otherwise, I wasn't really worried what other people thought about me not blogging. I was just missing it myself!

I may not have been doing it for very long, but it had become a way of life. An addiction. An addiction that I wasn't getting the time to feed.

Then when I did find some time and finally sat down to write...my laptop promptly died. It was like going cold turkey. There were scenes similar to those in Trainspotting, when Ewan McGregor's character was coming off the heroin. Just without the various body excretions.

The guy at the repair shop seemed a bit bemused when I rambled on and on about needing my laptop back immediately because...'I'm meant to write about my holiday...started it...need to finish it...but Taggart already on another holiday...Cancun...lucky bitch...probably too late to write about it now?...Still need to write other stuff...will lose my readers if I don't hurry up....'

It was also one of the few times that I've cursed being single. Only because I reckoned that if I had a man in my life, he'd have a computer and I would have been able to borrow his.

I jest, but it really was horrible. Not only is blogging about writing and expressing yourself, it's also about the blogging community. I feel like I have friends there and I was missing seeing what they were getting up to.

I've never met the afore-mentioned Tuppence but I feel like I know her. I wondered what was happening in her love-life. And what about Kate at Perfect Ten? Did that little box she'd found amongst her boyfriend's stuff contain an engagement ring? Was she still having flirty texts with Foxy Scott?

I wondered what Lainey had been writing about. She'd told us about her time at Boot Camp. What was happening in her life now? What about the bloggers who write about a completely different life to mine, like Argentum Vulgaris who has told about being 'dad' to 14 children.

I was even missing reading about what my real-life proper friend was up to over in her blog The Single Mum Life. OK, I could have just called her to get her news, but we are all often a lot more honest in our blogs. I've learnt a lot more about her from reading. And when she wrote about doing a pregnancy test the other weekend, I was in the same position as the rest of her readers and didn't know the result...

And then of course there is Fishy. Ah Fishy. The blogger I went on a date with. He was quite put out when he texted me, and as my phone had broken and hadn't saved my newer numbers (yes just yet another technological problem I was dealing with!) I'd had to ask who he was.

He replied that his number should be engraved on my heart.

Er right. Not quite. But I sort of know what he meant. He's become a really good friend in a short space of time, and I feel like I know him well despite only having met him once.

I think that is down to blogging. I can't recommend it enough. It can solve all problems. Need more friends? Blog. Need some advice? Blog. Having a bad day? Blog.

I've never received so many lovely comments and texts as I did the time I put up the post The One and Only about the crap day I was having.

Mind you, I also received a text asking if I 'fancied a shag' but I think that was a joke. Wasn't it? (If you haven't read that particular post, then please do so in order to put this in to context!)

Anyway the whole point of this post is to tell you that I'm officially back and I've missed this and you so much that I'm not leaving you again. Whether you like it or not!

Rapunzel x

p.s Just incase you wondering about the reasons behind the choice of photo... a friend emailed it to me and when I said I might use it in my blog, he said he'd be impressed if I could make that work. Personally I feel it is the perfect accompaniment to the title. Don't you?*

p.p.s Another wee reminder. If you haven't already rated the video of me in my Tower, then please do so. Och yer awfy guid!

* Shhhhh! He might not notice that although the photo works with the title, the title has bugger all relevance to the post!