43 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.

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!

70 Blog Off

BLOG OFF
Starring: Rapunzel and Fishy
Casting: Bamberio
Certificate: PG (some obscene language, some talk about nipples, but no actual sex scenes)


Hollywood has been rocked by the release of Blog Off. It is the film everyone is talking about. Never before has there been a movie like this.

Termed as a romantic comedy, it's actually so much more. It breaks all the rules by mixing lots of genres. Part comedy, part thriller, part adventure movie, part buddy film, part horror and part musical.

Think of Indiana Jones mixed with Mrs Doubtfire. When Harry Met Sally crossed with Airplane.

Ironically, the only genre really missing is the 'rom' to go with the 'com'.

Newcomers Fishy and Rapunzel are well cast as a couple thrown together in dramatic circumstances. Fishy is the likeable lad looking for love in Liverpool, while Rapunzel is the girl living in the Tower and waiting for her hair to grow. (Special mention must go to Rapunzel for her accurate attempt at a Scottish accent.)

From the outset, the viewers doubt this relationship will work out, but as we follow them on their journey, sharing the first phone call, the first date and witness Fishy becoming a man by losing his Skype virginity, we can't help but root for them.

We empathise when a spillage makes Rapunzel look like she has nipple leakage. We cringe when Fishy starts serenading her with Lionel songs. We feel the tension as they both log on to see what the other has written in their respective blogs. We share Fishy's almost palpable joy when he discovers that Rapunzel also loves The Office. We delight in the fact that they wear nearly matching outfits on their first date and we are reminded of Britney and Justin wearing denim. We pray that Fishy and Rapunzel are the new them (prior to the break-up and break-down).

All too soon the cracks start to appear and there is a particularly dramatic scene where they argue about Rapunzel liking tuna and Fishy not. Emotions run high. Theirs and ours.

My only criticism of the film would be that it ends too quickly leaving you feeling slightly short-changed. Don't worry though, this is a pairing that is already being mentioned in the same breath as both Cagney and Lacey and Turner and Hooch so expect to see more of this twosome.

There are already mutterings of a script being written for Blog Off Part 2 where we see our protagonists as friends working together to help each other find love. It will allegedly be set in a minefield. Sounds like one sequel that will be worth watching.

Regardless, Blog Off is going to be this year's Oscar success after being nominated in almost every category.

Expect to see it take the statuettes for Best Actress and Actor as well as Best Supporting Role for Rapunzel's bra. It also looks likely to scoop the prizes in Best Original Screenplay and Best Foreign Language Film. It will fall down in the music categories as Fishy's rendition of songs by Dire Straits just don't cut it, though Rapunzel may win in Sound Editing for pressing the mute button.

Verdict: An unmissable triumph.

22 Family Affair

It's been all about a boy recently, so I was looking forward to my friend visiting from Holland for some girlie time. We were going to paint each other's nails, have pillow fights in our underwear and talk about shopping and periods. Just the usual.

This is where you realise I'm lying, because you all know Fishy loves a bit of menstrual cycle chat and you probably think I'm all talked out on that particular subject.

Anyway, we were having a lovely weekend and while sitting drinking cocktails one afternoon, Lego moved the conversation on to my blog. (As an aside, my friend may live in Holland, but she is actually from Denmark and for some reason wasn't keen on my suggestion to refer to her as the Great Dane. She wanted to be called Lego. Something about how people enjoy playing with it..)

'I presume you have exaggerated some of the dates you've been on?'

'Sadly, I actually haven't.'

'You must have. Some of the guys sound like arseholes. They can't really exist can they?'

Ah, spoken like a true Attached Person. Internally I rubbed my hands with glee.

You see we were going out that night and I knew that I wouldn't have to do a thing. I could just sit back and relax and the weirdos would come to us. Lego would never doubt the accuracy of my blog again. The men out in Manchester wouldn't let me down.

And they didn't. Step forward Mr Cliche...

This is the guy that approaches you and asks if you and your friend are related. Or in this case, it was more like...

'Ello booootiful laydeeezz. You are seesters yesss? Yesss you must be seesters. You ave thee same boooootiful face.'

Now this happens to me all the time. Taggart and I are forever getting it. Either I'm a shapeshifter and can transform myself to look like whatever friend I'm out with, or guys think it is a good line.

In this case I'm sure it was all about the latter, because Lego and I look nowt alike. She is all blonde and nordic, whereas I'm dark and, if I believed everything I'm told, look a bit Spanish, Thai, Chinese, Indian and like Elvis.

To be fair to the guy though, we are both female so he probably had a point.

'Yes we are sisters' we tell him.

No, I don't know why we were encouraging him either.

'I knew theess. You are tweeens yesss?'

'Yes we are.'

Taxi for Lego and Rapunzel.

Well, at this point you would have thought we had just told him he'd won the lottery. His expression suggested all his Christmasses had come at once. He clearly felt sure that he was 'in'.

I really, really, really don't understand this.

Not only because this guy looked like Danny DeVito. But shorter. He probably didn't get much opportunity to be 'in' anywhere, very often. Particularly with twins.

More because like I said, this has happened before. After replying in the affirmative when a Greek barman asked Taggart and I if we were twins, we got an invitation to his home. And he certainly didn't just want us to taste his moussaka.

Now it seemed that Mr DeVito's thoughts were heading along the same tangent.

Do twins ever actually do this?

Do they enjoy a bit of tete´-a-tete´-a-tete´?

What about sisters? Do they?

Only having a male sibling, I've no idea. It was bad enough when I borrowed an old phone of his and found texts on it from a girl saying exactly what she wanted to do to him. Eurgh, that's my brother!!! Minging.

If anyone has any thoughts on/experience in, this matter then feel free to let me know.

It certainly gives a new dimension to the term 'spending time with the family.'

48 Something Fishy

I really need to to have a little word with myself.

I've just been on one of the worst dates I've ever had. The only good thing about it, was that I gave you all a laugh when I vented about the arse that was Mr Trafford Centre.

Why on earth then, did I think it would be wise to agree to go on a date with fellow blogger Fishy ?

Oh yes, I'll still be able to write about the date. Difference is that this time, not only will I be blogging to you, but to him as well. How can that ever be a good thing?

And worse still, he'll be writing about me too.

I couldn't be like those celebrities that say they don't read their own press. They never buy newspapers or google themselves. I hate not knowing things and hate being the one in the dark.

An ex discovered that after 'accidentally' putting his tongue down the throat of a Julia Roberts lookalike. My female intuition sensed that he was acting differently and I made it my business to find out why. Of course when I did know, I wish I didn't. I couldn't watch Pretty Woman for months.

Fact is I won't be able to stop myself reading Fish's post about our date. Even if I sit on my hands.

I'm worried that he might describe terrible habits that I have, that I'm currently blissfully unaware of.

What if I end up not wanting to go on dates with me either?

There is also the small matter that we have been match-made by Bamberio. She is a regular reader of both our blogs but has never met me or Fishy. Is she really in the position to do a credible Cilla?

And to be quite honest, Fishy isn't even my type. And that's despite the spec for my ideal man being fairly concise...

Mr Ideal is tall.
Mr Ideal is funny.
Mr Ideal has no dependents. And that includes pets.

Now before you think I'm some animal and child-hating witch, I'm not at all. I'm just a spontaneous person and would like to be able to travel to Timbuktu with my significant other at a moment's notice.

It's not the same when they have to be back in time to feed the budgie.

I did have a different list recently. After one too many Ribenas I asked the concierges to find me a boyfriend. When they asked what I look for in a man, I only had two criteria.

He must be able to swim.
He must be able to drive.

I've no idea what that was all about either and as these things didn't seem so important in the cold light of day, I didn't bother adding them to my must haves. Surely Fishy can swim anyway?

He doesn't fare too well with the rest of the list though...

Short Fishy lives with his depressed cat Mildred.

He is absolutely hilarious though and I love a man that can make me laugh. Is it a case of one out of three ain't bad?

There are various other good things I've discovered about Fishy from reading his blog. Like that...er...

What I meant to say was there are various other things I've discovered about him.

Like that he has small nipples and doesn't like morris dancing.

He is a fan of Feargal Sharkey and sees no shame in dancing along to A Good Heart on dates.

He once had a job as a dinnerlady (not sure how that works? Is he a pre-op transsexual I wonder?)

He likes The Smiths, but doesn't like tuna. I'm the opposite - does that mean we are doomed?

He's been propositioned by his gay neighbour.

He wears socks with the days of the week on them.

His annual spend on haircuts is a mere £96, whereas I pay that in two visits.

He is appalling at flirting, yet thinks nothing of trying to pull the waitress while on a date with another girl.

He's definitely an interesting one is Fishy.

I can probably overlook all of those problems, except the last. My concierges are very protective over me. If they hear that he has flirted with another girl on our date, Fishy can dream on about ever being buzzed into my building, let alone being allowed up to see my view.

18 Too Many Bloggers...

I'm not having much luck with this online dating malarkey.

A fellow blogger called Bamberio seemed to think so too. She suggested I go on a date with a guy whose blog she'd been reading.

Plentymorefishoutofwater was also writing about his dating experiences (the difference being that he was actually having some) and Bamberio thought it would be just 'brilliant' if me and him went on a date and blogged about it afterwards.

Now Bamberio's own blog is about rugby players so I presumed she must know stuff about men. She seemed convinced her idea, was a great idea. She even mentioned buying a hat...

I contacted Mr Fish to ask if he was aware he was being pimped out? He didn't seem to care and also seemed to think us going on a date might be a good idea.

I wasn't convinced though...

How can a blogger dating a blogger ever be a good idea?

No matter what happened on the date we'd have to blog about it. We wouldn't be able to help ourselves.

If one liked the other more than the other liked them, it would be blogged about.
If neither of us liked each other, it would be blogged about.
Even if it went really well, it would be blogged about.

Every flipping thing would be blogged about.

We'd constantly be trying to out-blog each other.

Wouldn't it be a case of too many bloggers spoiling the...er...spoiling things...?

I just didn't know what to do. So I dithered...and I dithered...and I dithered some more...

I dithered for so long that it appears that Mr Fish got fed up and started pursuing a hairdresser with a green thong.

Of course that's when going out with him suddenly seemed like the best idea I'd ever heard.

Why is it that we become interested in someone when they're no longer interested in us? It's nature's cruel trick.

It had happened to me before. I'd been on a night out in Amsterdam and my friends and I were trying to teach ourselves to pole dance in the middle of a busy bar (there was a pole there obviously.) A Dutch guy seemed to like my moves and wanted to talk to me in guttural and tell me I was lekker ding. I was far too busy trying to become Fantasia Sparkletush or something to pay him any attention though.

So what did he do? He went and sucked face with the toilet attendant, that's what.

Weirdly that's when I decided I wanted him. To hell with the pole! (I wasn't doing very well at mastering it anyway.)

It was too late though. He wasn't interested in me anymore. I had nothing to offer him. I couldn't get him into the toilets for free - you need to pay to visit many toilets in Holland, even in bars. You spend far more than a penny. It can make for an expensive night. He was actually being sensible in his choice of snog.

I couldn't compete.

Same now. I can't cut hair and I don't wear green thongs.

What do you get when you cross a blogger with a blogger?
I've no idea, I was too busy dithering to find out.



http://studsonthe22.blogspot.com/
http://plentymorefishoutofwater.blogspot.com/