Thursday, 11 November 2010
So we kissed and the spell didn’t break. Much to my relief he didn’t kiss like a toad who’d had a stroke either. We both fell asleep for a bit, clothes in tact and then spent the whole of Sunday together. I think we may have sourced some brunch in a little café on Byres Road before we ended up at the Botanic Gardens, sitting on the grass. I wish I’d thought more about the way I was sitting because The Ace advised me to reposition myself as he could see up my skirt. My embarrassment would have certainly shown but then surely he would have felt some shame at the fact he had inadvertently admitted to looking in that direction.

I only remember that and being in the scabby kitchen of the scabby flat from the whole day we spent together. He left sometime around late afternoon to head back to Edinburgh where he lived. We never swapped numbers and although I know that something poignant was said as he was leaving I can’t quite recall what or by whom.

So he was gone and that was that, or at least it would have been if I hadn’t turned into what can only be described as a desperate romantic displaying stalker tendencies. What I am about to tell you is quite frankly disturbing but perhaps also very resourceful, actually it’s just downright embarrassing but anyway, here goes….

Naturally after the “electrifying” experience with The Ace I couldn’t get him out of my head. I thought about him constantly, about the energy between us that night and more so about the fact that nothing had really happened, well, apart from a kiss. As far as I was concerned the universe had thrown us together and we were meant to be together. I wanted to marry him. Yes, that’s right, marriage to a relative stranger at 19 years old seemed feasible. The question was, how was I going to get to see him again? The forces of nature would dictate that it was fairly unlikely. Not only did I not have his number, the college term was close to finishing and I would then be moving back home for a couple of months before my move to Newcastle for University. Most sane people would accept this and move on, I didn’t.

My first port of call was my friend Dave who I tried to convince to raid my not very nice friend’s address book to see if he could find The Ace’s number in it. This mission was extremely unsuccessful, so much so that the “friend” found out and subsequently realised The Ace and I had spent the night together, albeit fairly innocently. I don’t recall seeing her again after that. Most semi-sane people would have thought at that point “ah well…”, I didn’t. The next bit is probably an excellent example of “worrying behaviour” and I would go as far as to say it may be seen as acceptable grounds in court to lodge a restraining order.

I went to the library. I went to the library and searched for the phone book for East Kilbride. Why East Kilbride? Because The Ace had explained that his parents lived there. Yes, that’s right. I looked up every single person with the same surname as his in East Kilbride and made a list of them in my little note book. Please be assured that this little notebook did not contain other stalking methods or the various ways of boiling bunnies ….

Armed with many 10 pences, I dialled the first number on a list of 10 or so matching surnames in East Kilbride. I was ready with a script of what I was going to say, in my head I might add, not on paper, that would have been taking things too far! I had decided to explain that I was an old friend of The Ace’s, that I’d lost his number in Edinburgh and would they be able to pass it on to me. How handy Facebook would have been back then. I wouldn’t have seemed so desperate. The first call was answered which resulted in an immediate negative response. I apologised for dialling the wrong number, thanked them for their time and so the calls went on as I crossed off each unsuccessful number. I didn’t listen to the voice in my head which was saying perhaps I should just leave it but then that was the voice of reason and so far my behaviour was anything but reasonable.

Call number 7 on the list was answered by a male and I automatically reeled off my speech. “He’s an old friend…..I’ve lost his number for his flat in Edinburgh…..” etc. The man on the other end of the line sounded fairly uncomfortable and I started to cross off the number.

“Oh…….right…….” he said. “I’ll just get his number for you…....”



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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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