22 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 5

Date day dawned and I don't mind admitting to you that I was really excited.

I love that feeling when you don't know what is going to happen. Yes, it could just end up being a crap date (of which I've had a few and have written about on here. The soiree at the Trafford Centre being a prime example...) but it could also be amazing and potentially life-changing. Deep, I know, but if he was 'the one' it would alter things. I just think it's a shame that you can't bottle the feelings you have at the beginning, and can get them out at a later stage in your relationship, when the things you used to find endearing about your partner now get on your tits.

Hands and I still hadn't actually spoken. I'd stuck to my guns and hadn't called him back. Ok, ok, I'd actually stuck to the Goddess's guns and not called him back. It seemed to work quite well though, so does it matter whose guns they were?

He'd sent a text a few hours after he'd first called me, to say that he couldn't speak now as he was going round to his friend's house (are you sure Hands? You're off to see a mate at half 10 on a school night? I doubt it...) but if I was still ok for going out the following day, he'd come to me for about 8, but would call me first to properly arrange it.

As you know, I'm not one for analysing, but, if you forced me to, I'd say that Hands had expected me to call him back and it had confused him that I hadn't. But then what do I know? This is men we are talking about. Even the males that comment on my blog can't seem to agree on the typical behaviour of the species.

Anyway I digress. It was the evening we were going out, and I got out of the shower to find a missed call from Hands. This time there was a voicemail saying that he was uncertain what to do as he hadn't spoken to me. Were we still meeting? And if so where?

I decided that even The Rules would allow me to return this call. I rang back. After a bit of chit-chat he told me that he'd be driving and asked whether he should pick me up, or should he meet me somewhere.

'Well where is it that we are going?' I asked.

'Dunno. I hadn't thought about it. Where do you fancy going?'

Sharp intake of breath from me.

We ended the conversation agreeing that he'd meet me outside my building, and then we'd decide what to do. Was I happy that the wheels were finally in motion? Nope, I was actually gutted. I went to check with the Goddess that it was reasonable to feel like that though, and that I wasn't being high-maintenance.

'So let me get this right? Not only is he driving on your date...though I suppose we can allow that as he doesn't live in Manchester...but he hasn't even planned where you are going? That is terrible!' she said.

The Goddess had concurred. I was right to be upset. Hands had committed a big no-no. A no, no, no, no, no, in fact. If you ask a girl on a date, you should at least make sure there is a 'date' for her to go on. 'Date' is the operative word here. (Single men - Please try and learn from Hands's mistake and not make the same one!)

'You know I'm not sure I want to let you go and meet him now,' the Goddess continued. 'He clearly doesn't realise that you are a 'creature unlike any other' and that he's lucky to have an evening of your time. To be honest, he doesn't sound good enough for my girl.'

'I'm not sure I want to go,' I agreed. 'I was really looking forward to it, but now I just feel disappointed.'

What I was quite enjoying, was the bonding that the Goddess and I were doing. We'd only lived together for a few weeks, but we were fast becoming like Cagney and Lacey. And Thelma and Louise. Or Ant and Dec.

What should I do? In the end we decided that as I didn't have to exactly go far (only down the lift in the first instance) that I should still go, but, importantly, under no circumstances, was I to enjoy myself.

We congratulated ourselves on this fool-proof plan.

A short while later as I left the Tower, my concierges asked where I was going. Now I must stress that it is not a rule of residing in the building that you must check with the concierges whether you are allowed to leave it, and what time your curfew is. Nor do you need to give a password. There are no 'Open Sesame!' moments.

No, I'm just very chatty with them and they pretty much know everything that is happening in my life. Perhaps a bit too much. Like they could probably even tell you when I've got my period by the times I'm stroppier than others. (That's actually not true. I'm a ray of sunshine all the time. They'd never work it out.)

Anyway, I replied that I was going on a date (my tone of voice suggesting that I was actually going for a bikini wax) and that I'd tell them about it later.

I got to the door and there was Hands waiting for me. 'Hey you,' he said smiling with his perfect white teeth and kissed me on the cheek.

Damn. He was looking fine. This was going to be harder than I thought...


-------------


And if you want to know how it went, check back here tomorrow where I'll reveal all...

And men...you are welcome for the advice in this post. Don't mention it.

27 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 4

It was the Wednesday night, and I was sitting with the Goddess watching TV when my phone rang.

'It's Hands! It's Hands!' I screeched calmly. 'I'll go and take this in my room!'

I'd just got to the living-room door when my mobile stopped ringing. The Goddess and I both collapsed into fits of giggles.

'You do realise that you can't call him back?' the Goddess informed me.

'Awww why not?' I whined. Knowing full well why not.

'It's one of the rules. You've not to call guys, and you've not to return calls'

The bloody Rules!

The Goddess had been so keen for my 'relationship' with Hands (never before has a word needed inverted commas so much...) to get off the ground, that she'd rushed out to the Waterstones, to buy me The Rules at the first opportunity.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't keen on them.

Don't get me wrong, I was loving them at first. In fact I'd got stuck in straight away as soon as she handed me the little bag.

Just two pages in, I was convinced it was the book for me, after reading that The Rules were basically 'just a simple working set of behaviours and reactions that, when followed, invariably serve to make most women irresistible to desirable men.'

Woo hoo! Lock up your sons!

The second chapter stated that if you follow The Rules, 'he will not just marry you, but feel crazy about you, forever!'

Now, I wasn't 100% sure that I wanted Hands to take me up the aisle - there was that small matter that I'd only spent half an hour total in his company. But hey, it's good to be prepared right? Just in case I did get the urge to don a big meringue with him. Plus, it's always nice when a guy wants to marry you, even if you don't feel the same.

It continued by adding that you also need not worry about him chasing other women, 'even your very attractive neighbour, because when you do The Rules, he somehow thinks you're the sexiest woman alive!'

Now this would be a relief, cause as I live in a Tower with over 200 apartments, I have a lot of neighbours...

Chapter 4 focused on how to look to attract men. It gave some extremely useful tips, including the gem that it's important not to be a fashion slave, and spend a month's salary on 'bell bottoms and clogs.'

Jeez, if I'd counted the amount of times that I'd nipped out for a pint of milk and ended up returning home with some of Primarni's finest flarey trews and some wooden shoes to wear with them... Phew! Thanks The Rules. I won't be doing that again.

So are we agreed that it was all good so far? Yep? Don't get too excited though because it was on page 21 that things went horribly wrong...

It was on that very page that it said that you should not, I repeat not, under any circumstances, have short hair. Short hair is evil.

That's me fecked.

I know I call myself Rapunzel, but I'm being ironic (I think?) because I'm actually the modern day version with a short 'do.' You see I may quite fancy the idea of having a prince, but I don't need to be rescued. I'm quite happy thanks. So I don't need long hair to trail out of my Tower air vents. It would just be surplus to requirements, and would probably just get in the way and end up getting trapped in the lift doors etc.

Ok, admittedly The Rules didn't say those exact words, but it does instruct you to grow your hair as it says that men prefer it and adds that the 'point is we're girls! We don't want to look like boys.'

Perhaps men do have a penchant for longer tresses, but I don't agree that having short hair automatically means you look male. Fair enough, when I was 10 years old, and it was fashionable to get your hair spiked, it was difficult to know what sex I was, but there's been no confusion since. Certainly not since I grew myself a pair of double D's anyway.

I look nada like a boy and was not about to grow my hair cause some book tells me to. I put The Rules down in a strop (see I am all girl?!) and decided I wouldn't be friends with them for a wee while.

So, I wasn't about to take their advice about not returning calls, as gospel. Plus wasn't it bad-manners not to call people back? I said this to the Goddess.

'No, it's not rude, it's The Rules. Of course it's up to you what you do, but I think you should keep on him on his toes....and perhaps lengthen the time your phone rings before it goes to answering machine!'

Hmmm. I pretended to agree with her, but inside I decided that I'd ignore that rule. I'd listen to the message Hands had left and then I'd call him back. In my room. Quietly.

I dialled the number to retrieve my voicemails.

Oh...

Turns out I had 'no new messages.'

Hands hadn't left me a voicemail. I'm convinced the automated woman even said it with a smirk in her voice.

Great. I'd agreed to follow some stupid rules that stopped me calling men. It seemed Hands wasn't bothered about chatting to me anyway. And I had a 'no-go' short barnet.

Things weren't looking good.

35 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 3

If there was a competition for texting, I would definitely have entered my reply to Hands, so smug was I with it.

I felt that it had a bit of everything in it. It made it clear that I liked him. It was a bit cheeky. By saying 'this week' it was giving a time-frame for the date. And most importantly, it was putting the ball back in to his court.

Good work for under 140 characters.

I'd sent it on its way feeling sure that Hands would appreciate its cleverness.

He didn't. Either that or he was just jealous...

Hands had asked for my number on a Friday night. His first text to me asking me out came about 24 hours later on the Saturday night. My carefully crafted reply to him agreeing we should, was sent a couple of hours later on the same night.

His next text to me wasn't until the Sunday at 16:41. Yes, I repeat, Sunday at 16:41. Nineteen hours since I'd replied to him and two days since we'd met. Was this the slowest text conversation in history? It wasn't even that good a reply...

That's excellent news, make sure you let me know what night so I can ask you how it went with him x

Oh alright it wasn't that bad. He seemed happy that I'd agreed, was playing along with me which I liked, and it looked like the date was definitely going to be on.

What I wasn't happy with though, was that the ball was back in my court. I didn't want the ball. I wanted the man to be the man and for him to decide the day.

I spent the next three and a bit hours moaning to my flatmate and yearning for the olden days, when people would actually call to make arrangements and a date could be made in a few minutes.

The times of yore when if a guy asked for your number it meant he really liked you, cause he had to be brave enough to call the landline and possibly have your mum, or worse, your dad answer first. (I can't help it if my good old days were when I was 14!)

I then sent my reply...

I'm pretty flexible so I'm going to let him decide when is best for him!x

Ha! That'd teach him! Here, have the ball back over in your garden.

Hands obviously likes ball games because he kept that damn ball for ages. God knows what he was doing with it? Practising his dribbling skills? Doing keepie-uppies? I've no idea. Whatever it was it kept him busy for 27 hours, busy until 22:21 on Monday to be precise...

I've had a word and he's up for Thursday if you are? He said he'd call you on Wednesday to make a plan x Oh and he said to say night x

Finally! I was still a bit miffed at how long the whole thing had taken though and I wasn't sure what to do next. I said the same to my flatmate.

She told me that I had to hold off replying and had to wait as long, and in fact longer, than it took him to message me before I sent my next to him.

I should explain that I call my flatmate the Goddess because there are times that I've been out with her and I've tripped over all the tongues that are out as she walks past guys. She's the kind of girl that you would hate if she wasn't such a goddam lovely person. Bitch!

Fact is though, men adore her, so naturally I was going to take any advice regarding the male species that she could give me. I was still curious to know why though...

"It's what The Rules tell you to do."

"What rules?" I asked

"The Rules. It's a book written by a couple of women that tells you how to get your man as long as you follow the rules that they set out. "

I was liking the sound of this.

The Goddess went on to explain a bit more to me. She said that she'd order me a copy (see I told you she is lovely?!) and in the meantime we'd follow them as much as we could according to what she remembered from reading them. My first initiation into The Rules was to hold off replying.

"He needs to realise that you are a 'creature unlike any other' and that you are not waiting around for him."

So on the Tuesday at 22:22 I sent a message...

Aren't you good organising my date? I'm sure that Hands appreciates it what with him being so busy in the hand modelling world. Can you please tell him that Thursday is good for me too and I look forward to hearing from him tomorrow x

I was pretty excited - Team Rapunzel had the Goddess as a cheerleader, I had a rule book instructing me what to do and I was a 'creature unlike any other.' This was not going to fail...


------------------------


Now it's over to you...It's too late for you to help me now as this has already happened but I'd love to know what you think. Did the delay in replies suggest that Hands was playing it cool or wasn't actually very interested? Or was I just doing that girl thing or analysing everything to death and it meant nothing?

Also what do you think about me playing him at his own game? Would it work? Would he notice? Would he care?

Leave your comments here or on facebook and lets all try and learn something about the opposite sex.

And next week I'll tell you what did or didn't happen...

145 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 2

Obviously I wasn't fussed whether Hands would get in touch. I didn't keep checking my phone. I just went about my daily business. I practically forgot I'd even met him again. I mean even if he did ask me out, who says I was going to accept? I probably wouldn't in fact.

Who am I kidding? I was gagging for him to get in touch!

I read an article recently where some professor or other, had written about the fact that we don't get the opportunity to look forward to things anymore, because today we are all about fast fixes and immediacy. He says that it's a real shame, because it is actually good for us to be in a state of anticipation.

That's all very well in theory Mr Professor, but what if you don't know whether the thing you want is even going to happen? What if you spend hours in a heightened state of anticipation and he never flipping calls anyway?!

To make matters worse I'd been through a thing like this before...

It was many moons ago when I was backpacking around Australia (for 'backpacking' read 'travelling with the world's largest suitcase' - so huge that BA threatened me with an excess baggage fee of £360. And instead of 'around Australia' think 'staying in Sydney for a year.')

I'd been working in a Mexican restaurant in order to pay for my hostel in Kings Cross. As fulfilling as it was making margheritas and serving fajitas, I wanted more. And more was what I got when I landed myself a job in the production office for the TV programme Big Brother.

So, I was working my last shift in the restaurant before moving on to pastures new, when in walked my replacement...

Oh me, oh my! Even I would have replaced myself with him! He was drop...dead...gorgeous! And confident with it...as became clear when he came up to me barely an hour into his shift...

'Just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be asking you out at the end of the night. Just haven't decided how I'm going to do it yet...'

Well. My performance at work for the rest of the night was, putting it mildly, crap. I just couldn't concentrate...I was getting my chimichangas confused with my enchiladas...I couldn't wait till the end of the night when the hunk of spunk would be asking me out.

You could say that this proves the Prof's point and that I enjoyed the waiting process. And to be fair I did. But that was then and this is now.

Then, I was quite happy to let some guy, who was quite obviously a player, use some lines on me. (Plus I'm ashamed to admit that we ended up sucking faces at my impromptu leaving party that we had at the end of the shift and from then on were 'seeing each other.' He didn't even have to ask me out!)

Now, I wasn't prepared to be played. If Hands wanted to go out with me he had to get a move on and do it. I decided to give him a small window of time to do so. There was no way I was going through days of..

Will he? Won't he?

He loves me? He loves me not?

It...tit...bird...shit. You are not it!


Well....turns out I was it, cause approximately 24 hours after seeing him (and well within the time-frame!), my phone beeped with the following message...

Hey....so did you meet the man of your dreams in Mojos last night or do you fancy meeting up at some point? x

I sat on my hands for two hours before sending a reply...

No but I met a lovely hand model earlier on in the evening. I'm hoping that he will take me out this week. Will keep you posted...!x

The Hands and Rapunzel saga had begun...

37 Tales of a Real Life Romance - Chapter 1

Picture the scene...

I'm out with a friend in a bar, and a gorgeous guy, with the kind of body I'd like to treat myself to, comes over to chat and asks me for my number.

You think I'd be happy wouldn't you? Well I wasn't.

It's not that I'm weird. I was happy the first time it happened, very happy in fact. But second time, I took it all with a big, fat, pinch of salt.

Confused? Let me rewind...

Nearly a year previously, I'd been out with my friend Lu (Little Un) in a bar (deja vu?) having a lovely time. We were having the usual girlie chats about shopping and periods and what kind of men we find attractive. I was just describing my type when in walked a group of guys, and amongst them was a guy that was a perfect example! I pointed him out to my friend. Like an adult version of Show and Tell.

A short while later, the group had moved closer and closer to where Lu and I were sitting and I ended up chatting to Mr Just-My-Type. He told me that he was a hand model for QVC.

Liar! He did have the biggest hands I've ever seen, but I wouldn't say they were of modelling standards. Not without a decent manicure for a start.

It didn't matter though because he had unwittingly played one of my favourite games. I love the 'pretend you do a different job from what you actually do' game! Me and Taggart play it all the time when we are out. We've had all sorts of roles, from envelope makers (yes, we aim high!) to cheese holers (we claimed that it was our job to drill the holes into Swiss cheese.) And my personal favourite, was when Taggart had a group of girls convinced that she was the sole person responsible for naming streets all over the UK. God knows what they thought would happen if she was ever off sick.

So I was quite happy to let Mr JMT tell me all about his fake job and show me some of the poses he was required to do, while I giggled coquettishly.

All the fluttering eyelashes stuff worked a treat, cause as our respective groups started making plans to go to separate bars, he asked for my number. Woo hoo! He texted later to see if we wanted to join them again, but as we were already heading home I replied in the negative.

A few days later, having heard no more from him, I decided to text him...

Please don't groan! Yes, I've seen 'He's Just Not That Into You' and do know that if a guy likes you, he will text you. But what if he'd lost my number or something? Just to be on the safe side I texted something casual...

He replied straight away. Ha! In your face, successful book and film! Sometimes it is good for the girl to make the first move.

There were a couple more texts that evening. Him explaining he was on his way to a concert, and me telling him to have a good time.

And then nothing...absolutely nada. Well there was no way I was making the second move as well as the first, so that was the end of that. All forgotten about until...

Ten months later, I'm out again and who comes over to me , but Hands?

He says he's sure we've met before...

Yes we have. We met. You took my number. It didn't go anywhere.

Says he thinks we even texted one night...

Yep we did.

Says he thinks I stopped texting him...

What?! That's soooo not what happened Hands!

I didn't bother arguing with him and instead made polite conversation, cursing the fact that he was looking as fine as ever.

My friend and I finished our drinks and got up to leave to go to another bar. I said goodbye to Hands. As I walked away he called out my name...

'Just to warn you I will be getting in touch with you, and I'm going to be asking you out!'

I just smiled in a way that I hoped said 'Whatever'.

Of course from past experience I knew not to hold my breath, but I couldn't help hoping that this time he really would...

18 Running Like Buses

Blog posts can be like buses. You wait aaaages and then two come along at once!

Although this isn't the post about the boy that I told you about yesterday - that'll be here tomorrow as promised.

This is just to tell you that I have a guest post up over at Brits in the USA (blog I've started reading which is about exactly what it says on the tin!) The post is an oldie, the second one I ever wrote in fact, but was in a way, the one that got me blogging. I'd signed up to online dating and was forever emailing my friends some of the ridiculous emails I was receiving (a very good example of one is here!) I wanted an easy way for them to read about my dramas if they wanted to and so Tales from the Tower was born. Couldn't believe it when other people started having a read, sometimes people from countries I've never even heard of!

So anyway my post is over here, go and have a nosey.

While I have you here, as well as blogging more in 2011, I'm also going to embrace Twitter so if you have an account lets follow each other here. And while you're at it, it would be good if you could like the Tales facebook page as well.

Och yer all gorjus! See you the morra! x

32 The One Where All This Happened...

If my life in 2010 was a sitcom, the episode guide would look something a bit like this...

Ep 1: The one with the date with a blogger.

Rapunzel makes the brave (foolhardy?) decision to go on a date with the infamous Fishy. For some unknown reason she suggests they fly to another country for the day. The nation waits with baited breath to read Rapunzel and Fishy's versions of how they got along...


Ep 2: The one with the Blogger's Night Out.

Rapunzel goes on another blind date with bloggers. This time with four other girls. Despite what you may imagine, a typical BNO does not involve everyone taking out their laptops. Instead, the girls go for dinner and cocktails and much fun is had by all. Normally what happens on a night out, stays on a night out, but the usual rules do not apply when going out with bloggers who write about everything. Rapunzel forgets about this fact amongst all the merriment and ends up doing something silly...


Ep 3: The one where Rapunzel's blog is on a shortlist.

Fellow blogger Tuppence nominates Rapunzel as one of Manchester's best personal bloggers. Rapunzel is delighted, especially when she is shortlisted in the top 5. She doesn't win but doesn't mind cause everyone knows that it is the taking part that counts. Plus she hadn't been blogging very much...


Ep 4: The one where Rapunzel stops blogging.

We see Rapunzel doing her favourite job - filming hotels for the internet - in seven different countries, including Benidorm, Gran Canaria and Tenerife. She has many tales to tell but is so busy styling bathrooms (spare toilet rolls just look so tacky), chatting to managers and persuading tourists to be filmed in their beachwear, that she doesn't get the chance to recount these stories. And any spare time that she does get, is spent on the beach rather than in internet cafes writing posts.


Ep 5: The one where Rapunzel gets older.

Rapunzel celebrates turning 34. She is working in Portugal which coincidentally is also what she was doing on her 19th birthday. See a flashback as she compares her current situation to the way things were back then...

Work
1995 - waitressing in an Indian restaurant.
2010 - assistant producer doing a job she loves. (winner!)

Home
1995 - paid an equivalent of £5 a night to stay in an apartment that rarely even had running water.
2010 - paying a lot more than £5 a night to stay in an apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manchester's city centre in the UK's tallest residential building. (winner and not just because of the constant water!)

Love
1995 - in the second year of a relationship with her first love who is at home waiting for his free-spirited girlfriend's return from working abroad for 3 months.
2010 - single and has been for donkeys. (hmmmm!)

In the end Rapunzel decides that is there no point comparing, and that at 34 she is actually the equivalent of two 17 year olds and what could be better than that?!


Ep 6: The one with the purple balloons.

Rapunzel once told Taggart that she'd love to come home to a room filled with balloons. Taggart remembered this and arranges for Rapunzel's new flatmate (The Goddess) to fill Rapunzel's bedroom with purple balloons as well as putting up birthday banners to surprise her when she gets back from Portugal. Just a perfect example of...


Ep 7: The one with the amazing friends.

Rapunzel has some tough times throughout the year but is supported by her fabulous friends. The afore-mentioned Taggart and The Goddess are towers of strength as is her friend England, Scarlet and not forgetting Lego who sends her a care package consisting of things like magazines and face masks as a pick-me-up at a particularly crap time. If good friends were money, Rapunzel would be rich.


Ep 8: The one where Rapunzel is a lesbian.

Or at least she is asked if she is. By her mum. In a text.


Ep 9: The one where Rapunzel goes to bootcamp.

Rapunzel finishes her abroad jobs and decides to start blogging again. She then gets a job filming on an army base where she spends the week staying in the Officer's Mess. 'Officer's Mess?' her friend says, 'That's even better than the Sergeant's Mess. How posh!'

And yes, it is posh if you class posh as somewhere with a single bed, no TV, no internet (bang goes the plans to return to blogging) and shared showers.

In this episode see Rapunzel wake up to the sound of 'Left, right, left right' outside her window. See her argue with one of the Majors for nicking her space in the shower queue. See her complain that 'It's just not right seeing your boss in your pyjamas!' after she sees her boss in his pyjamas. Then see when the fire alarm goes off at 3am and all the crew and Officers traipse outside to the cold and everyone sees each other in their nightwear!


Ep 10: The one with the embarrassing moment.

Flashback to Rapunzel's first day at bootcamp. She has started a week later than the rest of the team and is keen to make a good impression. They finish filming one of the soldiers and Rapunzel goes towards him to take off his radio mic. For some reason the soldier gets confused and seeems to think that Rapunzel is going to kiss him. She realises this, gets flustered and almost draws on his face with the pen she is brandishing. She lets him kiss her though so he's not embarrassed. He realises his mistake though when she reaches for his mic and of course gets embarrassed. Rapunzel does her best to act like it is normal to kiss people when you de-mic them to make him feel better. She prays no-one has noticed.

Seems her boss did. He pulls her aside after and asks 'What the hell was all that about?!' From then on jokes are made when Rapunzel is around soldiers, warning her to refrain from kissing them.


Ep 11: The one where Rapunzel sleepwalks.

Rapunzel gets up from her bed in the Officer's Mess and rushes to queue for the shower with her towel and shampoo. The shower is empty which is weird. She then discovers that it is only 1am and has only been in bed a couple of hours and is actually sleepwalking.

On hearing the story, Jeremy Kyle, the presenter of the programme Rapunzel is working on, informs her that isn't normal behaviour (some could argue that neither was the incident in episode 10). As someone that is known for having unusual people on his chat show, Rapunzel takes on board his thoughts and googles 'sleepwalking'.

It turns out that it isn't usual to have conversations in the middle of the night with people that aren't there. Nor is it normal when staying at your parents home to go into their room and ask your mum who the bugger is that she is in bed with (especially when you should really be able to recognise your own dad...) and then switch their light on and off repeatedly. Seems Jeremy had a point. Rapunzel just isn't quite sure what to do about finding a cure. She has other things distracting her anyway...


Ep 12: The one where Rapunzel meets a boy...

Rapunzel meets a boy. A boy she really likes...

Tune in this Friday for the first episode of the new 2011 series to find out what happens...