Monday, 15 February 2010
Somewhere along the lines God or whoever is up there, decided that regardless of the fact I was a romantic I didn't deserve to have an easy ride when it came to love.

Mr Rockstar and I had successfully achieved 2 sleepovers without Evie being any the wiser. It did mean setting my alarm clock at a ridiculous hour so that he could sneak out of the flat/my bed to get back to Glasgow for work but in a way, the sneaking about added to the excitement.

However, this weekend was Valentine's weekend and we were going to be spending a whole 3 days, 2 nights together. This is the first Valentine's that I've spent with a boyfriend (yes, it would appear that I now have a boyfriend!) for, well, a very long time. I suspect the last person that I spent the supposedly most romantic day of the year with, would have been Evie's Dad.

On Saturday I picked up not just Mr Rockstar from the train station but also a massive bunch of flowers, gorgeous flowers not your traditional roses. That's good, he'd put some thought to that. Then it was off up north to drop Evie with her half sister and then my mum for the weekend while Mr Rockstar and I spent some quality time together.

We arrived at Mr Rockstar's Dad's house which was to be our base for the weekend. A beautiful cottage right on the seafront. There was a roast cooking and drink was soon flowing. But as I said earlier, life is never straight forward for me and the first mistake of the evening I made was to say "no" to a glass of wine and "yes" to a vodka and tonic. You see, when you have a glass of wine you can see exactly the measure you have. When someone hands you a spirit that they've poured you have no idea. I'm not a big spirit fan so thought that I would be able to judge how strong it was, that was mistake number 2. What I had forgotten was that the reason I had started drinking vodka and tonic wasn't just because I was fed up with the boozy blues associated with gin but that vodka is practically tasteless in tonic.

But I was having a big roast dinner with my drink so I would be fine - wouldn't I? I'm sure I only had 2 glasses of Vodka and a couple of glasses of red wine, this would be later disputed.

I felt great that evening, good food, good company and for once I was totally relaxed. I found myself constantly eyeing up Mr Rockstar, thinking about how often he made me feel like my heart might just burst out of my chest.

So I am sure that you can picture the scene later on that evening when Mr Rockstar and I went for a "romantic" midnight walk along by the seafront and the little cottages that bordered it. By now it was officially Valentine's morning and I'd obviously decided it was time to be romantic, vodka induced romantic. I wrapped my arms around Mr Rockstar's neck and hung from him like some mad monkey when suddenly I came out with it, "I think I'm falling in love with you", closely followed by the even more romantic line, "oh my god, I think I'm going to be sick". If I wasn't being romantic enough by throwing up in some poor neighbour's bush, the added "oh my god, I'll probably shit myself now" was right up there with Romeo and Juliet. I was later told that I repeated this 3 times, it was obviously a genuine concern. Jesus Christ, who was this person? How did I go from telling Mr Rockstar that I thought I was falling in love with him to being someone who could not control her bodily functions? After I managed to gain some composure between sobbing and apologising for throwing up we continued our walk.

We decided to sit on a bench in front of the sea and I was sick again, this time hitting my favourite flatties. I barely wear these outside if it looks like it might rain and now I was showering them with the contents of my stomach. Apparently I then passed out with my head on Mr Rockstar's lap for half an hour while we were sitting on the bench. He covered me with his jacket and only woke me up to go back inside when the cold became too much to bear.

So we both returned into the warmth with our backsides soaking. No I didn't shit myself as promised, it had been raining and the bench had been wet. By the time Mr Rockstar returned to the bedroom with a glass of water I had passed out in my bra and thong. Think of that episode of Gavin & Stacey where Stacey is sharing a bed with Nessa, the night before they journey to London to meet Gavin for the first time and you get the idea or just how attractive I looked.

The next morning when I woke up I felt utterly embarrassed, thankfully I didn't feel hungover and I hadn't been sick in bed. As memories of the night started to float back into my head with the help of Mr Rockstar's recollection I cringed.
He laughed. "It wasn't that bad, you were only sick a little". What Mr Rockstar didn't know was that I had a total fear of being sick in front of people or in public. Then I suddenly remembered something else.
"Oh my god, you held my hair back. You held my hair back while I was being sick".

Sometimes it just takes someone to hold your hair back when you're being sick to make you realise that Valentine's Day is about so much more than just roses and chocolates.


Lottie said...

Aww even with the being sick he didn't bolt bless him

Mr Rockstar is turning into Mr Perfect =)

Lottie x

Luscious M said...

The best stories are the worst ones! ;)

Kate said...

Aw I agree with Lottie. He sounds lovely!

Oh also, I've left an award for you on my blog if you would like to come by and pick it up!

Kate x


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Bird on a Wire
Imagine Carrie from Sex and the City morphed with Bridget Jones and a baby thrown in for added entertainment – that’s me, the ever optimistic romantic looking for my Mr Big but already with child! Read my blog from the beginning where I find out I am pregnant following a brief fling with my much older male colleague and fast forward to where I am now, stressed out working mum to my beautiful 10 year old daughter wondering if love really does in fact exist at first sight.
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