....someone did, from a website. She wrote about 'posh blokes' and it's got me thinking back to the ones which I dated, fresh out of a relationship. And, let's face it, this blog needs some non-teary momentum at the moment, doesn't it?
The first one (ominous opening words, I know), I met when I went to my local police station to give a witness statement. And I was met by this thing, this tall, brown-eyed man with a smile that crinkled like a crocodile's.
He thrust (the main verb of our relationship) his hand into mine (again.....) and said,
'Don't I know you from somewhere? The gym, perhaps?' I should've known there and then, ladies and gents, but I blustered and smiled and blushed and murmured something about 'Fitness First.'
'Ah, that explains it,' he said, eyes roaming my body which almost melted under his gaze.
We went into a little room, where he, long thighs nearly touching mine under the table, took me swiftly (no sniggering at the back, please) through the process. Finally, he said
'I'd never let anyone hurt you,' as I'd mumbled something about not wanting to get my face kicked in by a group of vigilantes.
Two weeks later, I was in a bar when in he walked, all swagger and bad coat (30-something man not quite relinquishing his youth to his past). He saw me, his eyebrows shot up and he again thrust that hand into the air.
I, knowing I looked cute, sauntered over to a midway point. The floor between us was empty. He raced up, like a Labrador, squeezing me in huge arms.
'Darling! I thought I'd never see you again!'
To be continued, folks.....
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