My Summer Fling Virginity

It's official; I'm having a summer romance. 4 dates in and with 3 more already in the diary - I think it's safe to label it now.

I've never had a summer fling before but I've naturally always fancied it. Fun dates in the sunshine, flirty eyes over ice cold beers, smooching just as the sun goes down (it's already been noted that I have watched way too many rom-coms, so just roll with it). It's been fun so far and god knows that's what I need. There's just one teensy little thing... Of course there is, nothing is ever straight forward with dudes and me.

This guy is super eager. Just then, when I said 3 dates already booked in - yea, one refers to a festival. A FESTIVAL PEOPLE. That's a pretty serious date. As soon as one dates over he's on the text later that night pinpointing my next available diary space. It's cute right but I'm just not used to this. The kinda guys I've been dealing with lately have been the absolute opposite of that. I literally had to twist Mr CBAs arm to spend anytime with me. Friday and Saturday nights were off the cards and daytime dates were an even bigger no-no. I was reduced to weekday evenings only, if he even remembered we'd made plans. As for Mr Double Date, he was a little bit more up for it but only if he could fit it around the gym and it was slotted in the dating diary a year in advance. 

I totally understand what gods doing here, I see the irony and his sneaky plan. I moan for ages about meeting a guy who is a keen-bean, someone I didn't have to chase, someone who might actually chase me. And look what he's sent me. 

If I've learnt anything the last couple of years it's that nothing is ever as you imagined it would be. Sadly this dudes eagerness is throwing me off, it appears too good to be true and perhaps it is. I even addressed it with him recently, don't worry, I used a well thought through emoji to get the tone of the text just right. Firstly he asked if it was a bad thing, then he said that he doesn't have a lot of time and that he wants to make the most of it (btw, he's not dying he's just heading back to Uni at the end of the summer). Somewhere amoungst these messages he also admitted to 'enjoying spending time' with me. He also used a carefully selected emoji, you know the one with the monkey covering his eyes? 

My biggest concern with all of this is that perhaps it is too good to be true and let's face it (trying my hardest not to be the cynical old cow I am slowly turning in to), things generally are. I'm going with it though, perhaps he's right, perhaps summer flings are all about making the most of those few months of pub gardens and flip flops. Or maybe I'm gleefully skipping into a another massive disaster. 

Closure

It's nuts that I still get nervous about visiting the pub after all this time, isn't it? Well I know it is. Dr Anxiety would tell me it's the fight or flight reaction; adrenaline pulsing through my veins preparing me to either fight to stay alive or run. Well, my body was not made to run, god gave me a mouth for a reason, so I guess fighting it is.

For months I've been tackling this allergic reaction to that place. I try not to totally avoid it because I want to get over it, facing up to this problem will surely help me. So, to follow the advice in all anxiety manuals I must outline what exactly the problem is. 

I love going in that place. I see lots of familiar faces, I chitchat with old friends who still work there and gossip with the regulars. Also, that place holds so many memories; summers spent working long hours to save for University beer money, arguments and flirtations wih Mr Rebellious and after hour laughs with the local drunks. Just being in that place reminds me of good times; it's lovely, and it's comfortable.

So why the anxiety issue? 

Perhaps it's Mr CBA. That's the most obvious explanation. Just seeing him there reminds me of everything I felt all those months ago; the good feelings and the tearful ones. I've come to terms with things so slowly but I think I'm doing good, I don't want a set back. Maybe seeing him will stir up old feelings I'd rather not remember. 

Or maybe not. 

Maybe seeing him will make me realise how strong I am now, how much time has gone past, how I'm in much a better place now. All of this is counting on the fact he will actually be there, propping up the bar, still in his work clothes, on his sixth pint (can't you see what I found so attractive about him?!). Even if he isn't there, my anxiety can still be influenced by the stories people tell me about him or what I over hear. If i find out he's been seeing somebody else or is in a really good place right now I will feel like I meant nothing, I'll feel used and absolutely fooled by all his bullshit. Told you it's nuts.

Question now is, why does all the above even affect me? Why do I even let it? 

For a little while I was totally not incontrol of my emotions, I was really low, I had sort of lost touch with reality. Back then I didn't know how to think or feel for one minute to the next. Back then, someone merely mentioning his name had me having an anxiety attack. I don't want to go back there. 

Maybe there is also a little part of me that thinks if he sees me he'll realise what he's missed. What if I stroll in looking HOT and he's all like 'Man, I fucked up'. That would be the bomb. I do sort of want that. I want him to feel as shit as I felt for all those months. Nasty isn't it. I can totally be a horrible bitch. 

More than all of these things, I want to be able to visit my lovely pub and not feel a nervous wreck. I want to be able to smile nicely, maybe have polite conversation and be totally unaffected. That's the unfinished business, that's the closure I need. Maybe tonight's the night I finally draw a line under all this.

P.s. fancy catching up on all Mr CBA related posts? Take a peek here, but remember, no judgement...

I CBA with Mr CBA

I've been thinking about what happened at the weekend. No, not my amazing chating-up super power but what happened at the pub on Sunday. Yes, it was Mr CBA related and no, you cannot be as bored as me with the topic. I am literally bored to tears, fairly frequently.

Anyway, conversation with the barmaid/former colleague, and the regulars propping up the bar, went a little like this;

Barmaid: "So, how's the love life?"

Me: "Non existent"

BM: "Oh really?"

I sensed some sarcasm.

Me: "Yes really. Although I did meet a nice guy last night..."

BM: "So what about Mr CBA?"

Me, a little taken aback: "Who? The Mr CBA who drinks in here?" She nodded "Er no."

BM: "Really? Because have you forgotten that my mum lives next door to his mum? They talk."

Oh shit. I have always been suspicious of this. Play it cool. Play it coooool (oh and I also forgot we were 12). 

Me: "I have no idea what your talking about." When it doubt outright deny EVERYTHING.

BM: "That's funny. He says exactly the same thing..."

What. The. Hell.

Me, cool, aloof and unalarmed: "You spoke to him? What does he say?"

BM: "He's equally as vague as you."

Interesting.

She went on to say: "I heard he was seeing one of the girls from the pub. I think it was you."

As I had been rumbled and I had an audience, I did the only thing that I know how to in this sort of situation; I  played the upper hand.

Me: "Well we did hang out for a bit but he didn't want anything serious. He's not really..." My audience were enthralled. The regulars at the bar were on tenterhooks. Now was my moment to address the rumours all under my control. "...he wasn't looking for a relationship and I'm just not that kind of girl." I could have stopped there; adult, mature, on the fence. But I didn't. Oh no, I had to stick the knife in; "Oh well, his loss. More fool him!" 

Thankfully this was met by a few knowing smiles, a couple of 'here, here's' from my beer pulling sisters and I'm sure I heard a 'too right' from a regular. Then I quickly added; "And now I think I better run before he strolls in and the atmosphere gets awkward. Bye!" And thats what I did, run.

I think my little outburst earnt me a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T from my younger counter parts, who would have probably put up with being treated like a dormat much longer than I did. It also made me realise how trivial this whole drama is for anyone but me. To them it's a little pub gossip, who's shagging who and all that. To me it's the most tragic love story since Romeo and Juliet. Why has this got to me so much? And why, nearly five months on is it hot topic of conversation, blog content and drunken tears? 

What is it about this douche bag that means I cannot just add him to the pile of discarded losers? I torture myself daily, mentally replaying the whole entire disaster over and over in my head. Desperatly searching for the thing I did wrong to make him quite literally CBA. Perhaps I'm trying to get to the bottom of it so I can avoid a situation like this again. Maybe my little heart and damaged self esteem can't take a repeat of this.

The thing now is, I do have a few other boys to text, to potentially date and I'm really not bothered. Am I just protecting myself or am I genuinely not interested. I'm definitely not being forward with these boys, I've learnt not to put myself out there too much. But am I being too aloof? Jeez, I never thought I'd say that about myself.

One things for sure, you can't put your finger on the reason why you fall for people and I have no idea why I fell for him. Also I don't fall that easily, I've genuinely liked only a few guys my whole entire life. Maybe that's why this has been so hard, I'm always holding on to the teensiest bit of hope that it wasn't all for nothing.

Pear Shaped by Stella Newman

This morning I finished reading a bizarrely-too-close-to-real-life book. It was good. It had such a relevant ending that I had to stop myself from crying. Sobbing over a book on a commuter packed train never looks good (or particularly sane). 

So this book was about Sophie. She had completely fallen heart over head for a man she really shouldn't have. She ignored all the warning signs throughout their entire relationship and foolishly took him back on those rare occasions her sanity actually made an appearance and made her end things. Obviously there was a horrendous break up. Sophie spent 6 months trying to get over this guy. He had gotten to her big time (I hear ya' sister). She lost weight, then gained weight. Her Grandma died and she left her job (any of this ringing any bells?). In the end she had to go to a boot camp in Italy to finally rid this man from her heart and mind (I'm booking myself in next week). 

Do you want to hear the most bizarre bit that happened at the end that pretty much had me it tears? it's a bit of a spoiler, so if your going to read it yourself then perhaps you should look away now. Right, those of you still with me, listen to this...

In the end she meets this really nice man but in the epilogue she explains that she will always have feelings for the ex. She explains that over time they will fade blah, blah, blah. Then, last paragraph she writes about how she sees him drinking in a pub a few months later. She says he was flirting with a bunch of giggling girls. She says he still makes her heart lurch but she knows he will never change and that's simply not the life she wants. Anyway, I will give you ten points if you can guess what the pub was called she saw him in. Go on, one guess...

Yep. You got it. Unbelievably the pub she saw him drinking in was The Crown. THE BLOODY CROWN. I told you it was bizarre. I felt like I had a hallelujah moment at 8:47 in the morning. The Crown is my pub and the pub Mr CBA practically lives in. It's too symbolic for words. 

I text my Mum to explain what had just happened to me, that I felt God was talking to me through the medium of chick lit. Even she was stunned (my mums not nearly as spiritual as me). She asked what this meant. Well, I text to her, I guess I gotta just get over all this.

And there you have it. My eureka moment. The break through. The nail in the coffin.

I wonder how long this will last...

Wrong, bad, downright silly

I'm feeling unusually chirpy for a Monday morning. The sun is shinning, I've been pinning on the train and I'm actually not bothered about going into work. Something's wrong. Well, something IS wrong actually. Very wrong.

I don't think I've mentioned the aversion I have developed for the pub. Every time I even think about going in that place, I feel a wave of anxiety rush over me; my heart races, I get all shaky. It means getting ready is a nightmare; you try applying eyeliner with a wobbly right hand. The anxiety doesn't stop when I'm there either. I have to drink my wine with both hands. I know, it's crazy.

You see there are few issues with that place for me now. Obviously first and foremost is Mr CBA, now a neighbour of the bloody place and in there ALL THE TIME. Pretty sure he's an alcoholic tbh. Anyway, that's one thing.

The second thing is that I kind of got indirectly fired from my job there. I know, can you believe it? Me, the mouthy one who always thought she knew better - fired?! Just before my holiday I got in touch with my old manager asking for my once-a-week shift back. His response was not too great. He said one night a week doesn't really work for him, could I do more shifts? Well obviously not. I don't get in until late Monday to Friday and I don't fancy working a seven day week. So, that was that. No more pub. Six years of rooting for that place and it's over. I was gutted.

In retrospect it was probably a good thing. If even the thought of having a drink in that place makes me come over all a-wobble what would I be like being stuck there for six hours a week. My whole six pound an hour pay would be spent on glass breakages.

I've been attempting to break this pub phobia or whatever the hell I've got going on. Rather than out right avoiding the place I do try to go in, but only with the folks, they understand my madness. 

I hadn't been in the pub since well before my holiday. I wanted to go in and hand my apron back and ask for my P45 (aka make things awkward). On Saturday night I went in with the folks. It was ok. We met up with some friends of ours too and I managed to spend some of the time talking to (aka flirting with) a few of the regulars. Obviously Mr CBA was there. I know I should have been adult and mature about things but you've got to understand how hard it is for me to even look at him, not least hold eye contact. When I do I feel all that drama come flooding back, mainly me feeling a massive fool. So I completely ignored him. It was ok. 

Sunday my folks suggested a walk up to the new clubhouse, just opened up the road from their house. I thought yea, I might see a few of the familiar pub faces; it will be fun. As soon as I walk in who's voice should I hear booming above the rest? Mr fucking CBA. Great. I've pretty much spent my entire weekend indirectly in his company. I very nearly turned around and marched back home, instead I threw my bag down on the picnic bench and vented my anger to my folks.

A few drinks in and my mum was a little drunk (it doesn't take much, she was only a third of her way through her second half). She says; 'Aw look at him Shell, he's up here with all those couples. He could have come to ours for a barbie later. What a plonker.'

As more of her Peroni disappeared the looser she got; 'He's not that bad really. I feel sorry for him.' (don't worry, I had a right go at her about that one). And then she said; 'Shall I tell you what Dave said?' (Bit of background info; Dave's a pub regular who now drinks in the clubhouse, he's nice, he sits with my folks sometimes for a drink) obviously I was intrigued... 'He said that Mr CBA feels a complete idiot, that he does still like you. And Shell, I've seen him keep looking at you all wistfully.'

Firstly I don't think Mr CBA even knows what 'wistfully' means, let alone be able to act it. Secondly, wtf?! My drunk mother has just thrown me a fucking grenade. I wanted to detonate it right then and there to save myself from the emotional confusion that I knew would follow. But to be honest the more I thought about it the better it made me feel. I hope it is true. I hope he does feel a fool. God knows I've felt like one for long enough.

So it's bad right? Its bad I feel good about this? It's bad that he is even still on my emotional horizon. How I would love to be like 'Mr CBA who?'. I'm just not sure I will ever be like that, well not until I fall for someone else anyway. Also it's really bad that I've been thinking about him again; I was doing so well. Oh, and its also really REALLY bad that when I looked at him yesterday I wanted to squeeze his face again. Squeeze his face and punch it at the same time. Shit this sucks. 

It's ok though, I know the cause of all this; it's seeing him. I'm planning on avoiding that again for a while. 

Getting back on the horse

So I need to get back out there. If not to give my hugely dented ego a little boost but to also give myself some hope of there actually being someone decent out there for me. This time however I am approaching things differently. Firstly I am not doing any chasing whatsoever; if he's bothered he'll come my way, I am not twisting anyone elses arm into liking me. Secondly I am keeping a lid on my expectations; no day dreaming of what our wedding would be like five minutes into the first date and no hope of anything turning into something. I am taking these boys for exactly what they are, I am completely going with the flow.

So I have three potentials. When I say potentials I do literally mean potential dates, not boyfriends, not lovers and certainly not future husbands. What I really want right now is a nice evening and some nice conversation. That's it. Full stop. I don't even want any funny business. The thought of all that... ugh. Not bothered whatsoever.

Anyway, so these three potentials...

Mr Double Date
This is an interesting one. One of the girls has just started seeing this lovely new boy who she met out in town (yes, it happens, decent men can be found in The Rose! I know, I know and I was biggest skeptic...). Thing is with lovely boys is that they tend to have lovely friends, or so my friend has led me to believe. I have met him a few times already, but both times I or he was majorly under the influence of alcohol (most probably Jaegermeister). But, these drunken meetings haven't put either of us off. A double date is booked in for this week. I promise to keep you in the loop.

Mr Friends Brother
I know, this never ends well. That's the reason my friend has been fighting this for quite some time, but I am doing my no expectations thing remember? He's single, I'm single, whats the harm in a little drink and a chit chat? It's quite nice to talk to someone new and get to know someone else. My friend has supposedly passed on my number so we'll see.

Mr Suger Daddy
Right, so this one is so unlike me. But this dude is an actual man, like a fully grown adult, interesting no? I really don't fancy him but I'm interested. He's a really good talker and a really good listener. And what do I like best after wine and food? Talking of course! We would get on like a house on fire. Plus he's a man, he would most probably do all the chasing, the planning, the organising - that sounds great right? No thinking about where I should meet him or what time. Actually that sounds amazing, perhaps that should be the third thing I do differently this time around in all this dating business; no organising.

Obviously I am still majorly in love with Mr CBA, I dreamt he came running back to me the other night. Ha, I am bonkers. But I know I need to get over this now. I've reached the point where I realise this is not good for me, I need to start feeling good about myself again and I think going on a few dates and meeting some new boys could help with that. As I said above I am not actively seeking out any of this, I am letting fate work its magic, what will be.

'Last orders at the bar!'

Yesterday was my last pub shift for a while. Officially I'm having a month or two off, unofficially I'm contemplating never stepping a foot in that pub again. I haven't left momentarily solely because of Mr CBA, although he is a big part of it. I have been juggling two work worlds for nearly two years now; it would be nice to have my weekends back. Also I originally went back there because I loved the job and I missed it. Now it's an awkward six hours on a Sunday that I dread all week. That phrase 'don't shit where you eat' springs to mind...

I'm hoping that I will recoup over the next few weeks and be right back to my old self again, marching straight back behind that bar and giving two fingers to all those asshole guys and girls. I'm hoping I'll be begging for my shifts back. Not sure though, perhaps my pub days are over. Maybe six years of pouring pints to the good old drunks (and perves) of Henlow is enough for me and my Crown alter ego. Hmm, we'll see.

It's funny because that place has been such a huge part of my life, especially over the last few years. I love it there. I treat it like my second home! I know it's a shame to let some boy ruin it, so he won't, don't worry, I wont let him. I've had quite a lot of beef with people in that place over the years and I always out live them. Also, as a back up plan I've got quite good ammunition, I could spread willy rumours about him #justsaying (and he thinks I'm too nice? Mwhahahaha).

All jokes a side it's a relief. I don't have to talk to him, look at him, see him, hear rumours about him and some dumb waitress. I can sort of pretend now that it never happened. Bury my head in the sand. Well, they do say ignorance is bliss. 

Mr CBA

I have been meaning to write for quite some time. Over the past two months I have actually written several draft posts explaining the situation/my head/my heart, but I never had the inclination to finish them. Some of the writing however was quite good, even if I do say so myself. So to give my broken hearted self her little moment of fame, here's some snippets;

I've been quiet the last week or so. Funny my absence comes after a few smug entries about how good I was feeling about the boy situation. Well, almost as punishment from God, things turned sour last weekend. Surprise, surprise. Over the past week I have quite literally been mending my broken heart, damaged ego and all round confidence when it comes to the one thing in my life that i have absolutely no control over; men. 

What a hard pill to swallow; to be told you are just not amazing enough and that he simply doesn't like you enough...  I think I kind of needed him to be honest and blunt with me though, to sort of shock myself into the reality of this really not working.

I don't think I have felt rejection quite like this. Obviously we have all experienced boy rejection at some time in our lives; school playground, first crush, one night stand you thought meant much more... Previous relationships of mine ended because of me, because my feelings changed, I instigated it or I made the decision. This situation has entirely ended because this guy was simply just not that into me.

The biggest upset for me isn't the fact that I won't be hearing from him pretty much everyday or seeing him once a week... The thing that makes me the saddest is that I feel such a fool. I feel such a fool for letting my heart rule my head, yet again. I thought I had learnt that lesson back with Mr Rebellious. I feel a fool for ignoring all the warning signs, all the He's-Just-Not-That-In-To-You signs that I pretty much wrote the rules for. I feel a fool for thinking this was anything more that what it was.

So your pretty up to speed? For the last two months I have been battling all sorts of other drama too, drama that I really do not want to bore you with right now. I have also been struggling to get back to the old me. You know, the one who would be texting loadsa boys and not give a teeny tiny shit.

Thing is I feel like a lot has changed since then, I'm a birthday older for one thing and all my friends are actually pairing off and talking about living together, weddings and caravans (that's another story). All of a sudden I find my irresponsible boy stories from last year all a bit out of place. People aren't finding them entertaining anymore, I actually think people are starting to pity me and my single existence. Which is all fine of course because quite honestly I pity myself too. To be brutally honest I also feel a bit embarrassed. I feel like people are beginning to wonder what is wrong with me that I cannot seem to find and hold on to a man. 

My old routine/life feels so alien. Driving into work, chitchatting about him all day and worrying about weather he's text or not, it all seems such a long time ago. I still obsess about him of course but just in my head, at least then I have no witnesses to my crazy. I still see him too which is absolutely heart breaking. The only saving grace is that he has no idea. He is so stupid he would never notice how upset I was, even if I served him his pint in floods of tears.

I think its getting easier though. I still think about him when I'm trying to get to sleep and I have moments of madness where I wish I could text him to tell him I miss him, but then my brain kicks in to protect my heart and says that there's just no point, he literally CBA. Then I begin to feel the idiot again who once upon a time thought he did care. And so the crazy kicks in...