A Crazy Blast From The Past

I saw a ghost on Christmas Eve. During festive drinks with friends at my local, I saw Mr Rebellious. I have not laid eyes on him for 5 years. I haven't heard a scrap of information about him for four - much to the dismay of my usually successful investigative skills.

After we broke up he got into some trouble, pissed off a lot of his friends and fled the area, setting himself up with a new life the other side of London. You'd think in this day and age it would be impossible to disappear - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter would give the game away, right? Not for this guy. He doesn't do social media, I don't think he even does the Internet. I later found out on Christmas Eve that he doesn't even have a smart phone. Crazy.

So the thing with this guy? Well, he was my second ever boyfriend, he was the rebellious guy I should have dated at 18, not 22. I would go out with him and his friends and lie to my folks about where I was, I would turn a blind eye to all the drug shenanigans and I never really referred to him as my boyfriend until after we broke up. We had a fairly on/off relationship, he would let me down all the time; when I went back up to Uni after nearly a year and half together he would tell me he was visiting, he would tell me he was on his way but he would never show up. I wouldn't hear from him for days. When he did get back in touch he would be full of the 'I'm so sorry, your too good for me blah blah blah'. I would give in after a while and so continued our destructive relationship cycle. 

So what was the hook? I honestly do not know. He has always been the one person I just could not help myself with. Every time we hung out I knew I shouldn't, I knew he was nothing but trouble but... I liked it. I liked that he wasn't sensible, responsible, boring - like me. I liked that he poodled through life, treated his friends (at the time) like family, I liked that he didn't care so much about the future like I did. He seemed fun, carefree and totally laid back.

So Christmas Eve, at the pub, in he walks. My tummy flipped. What I do know about him the last few years is that he has been through some really dark times and to be honest, I would never have been shocked to hear that he had done something silly to himself. To see him stroll in the pub just as he used to all those years ago bowled me over. My friend I was seemed just as shocked as I was when I told her I'd spotted him. I've told her so many stories over the last few years but had never been able to put a face to name for her. I wonder sometimes if she ever thought I was making this guy up. Hell, I even sometimes thought I made this guy up.

That's the thing you see. After you break up with someone, after someone who was once instrumental in your life just disappears, all those memories you have together seem odd. All those things that only you two know about; holidays, late night conversations, lovely sexy times, they do not seem real anymore. Just seeing him in the pub, talking to everyone like he had never left made me realise how those two years did actually happen and regardless of how he sees it, they were important.

It took me 10 mins to pluck up the courage to go talk to him. I was shaking like a leaf. Of all the people I get anxiety about bumping into, I would never have put him up on that list. After a little awkward exchange he asked if I was going to be in the pub for a while, he said he would come over for a catch up. I went back to my friends still shaking. Can you imagine the anxiety if I hadn't have had the four vodkas prior to all this?!

After another ten or so minutes he came over and we did in fact catch up. Within just a few more minutes we were talking like no time had passed since we last hung out. He said he hadn't been back for years and he confessed to being worried about the potential of bumping into me - he had not changed one little bit. I asked him why would he be worried about bumping into me. He said he wondered if I had become a bitch and that I might turn on him. Boy, if he could see how hurt I've been over the last few years, he would realise I could never be that mean to him. All the drama we had is nothing compared to my more recent heartbreak.

We reminisced all night. We talked about past holidays, past arguments, about me being so young and hopeful for the future, how I realise now how annoying that is. Funnily enough he recalled things a little differently to me. He remembered me being insecure, something I never like to come across as but something I have realised recently that I definitely struggle with. He said I broke his heart, that he really loved me, that he thought I could be the one to sort him out. I told him that wanted to.

Quite frankly I had the most fun I've had in months chatting with him. I'm not sure if it's because of the closure or the relief that he's doing ok now or what. I do know that I felt nothing but love for this guy, like friendship love. It filled me with such a warm feeling to know that this guy goes about his day to day life with all the fond memories of our time together just like I have. I guess it felt good to know that after all the drama, the tears and the pain, all that matters is the fact that at some point you loved each other and that in itself is pretty flipping lovely. 

When the time came to leave I kinda didn't want to. Remember, this was the most fun I've had in months - going back to my mundane life of worrying about how I feel does not appeal. He suggested meeting up for another drink some other time, he offered me his number and just like those times 7 years ago when we first started dating I knew I shouldn't. And, just like all those times 7 years ago I did it anyway. I took his number and I messaged him. Life's short, you gotta have fun, you gotta be a bit irresponsible sometimes. 

Funnily enough, just like 7 years ago he didn't text me back. He really hasn't changed one little bit.

New Season, New You

On Monday I saved this image as my phone wallpaper;

I spotted it on Pinterest and just loved it. I wanted it to inspire me and give me something to focus on this week, as opposed to freaking out about the silly little things. I think it's helped! This, along with my Mum's new mantra; One life, live it (oh and some Fleetwood Mac) has got me through the week feeling good.

Today feels like the first day of Autumn, I think I heard somewhere that it actually is. I'm quite looking forward to the next part of the year; snuggly jumpers, the return of super Saturday night tele and new season boots (that's the KG influence). This time last year I was having such a good time working, drinking. I plan to do the same thing this year in the run up to Christmas. Oh and I plan to do it skinny - I've rejoined weight watchers, it's time to shift those extra 14 pounds (that's another blog post which I coincidently have saved in my drafts). 

I didn't tell you about last weekend. Last weekend felt like the good ol' days; Saturday night in The Rose, Sunday afternoon après Rose chats with the girls in The Pub. I loved it. Perhaps that's why I'm looking forward to the next part of the year, perhaps the weather reminds me of all the fun I had last year. Ah well, whatever it is, it's feeling good. 

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.

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. 

The meaning of the flirt

Lunchtime yesterday I was at the checkout in Clinton Cards finding myself enjoying a little joke with the slightly balding, salt-and-pepper haired sales assistant. Upon leaving the shop Brooke exclaimed; "Is their anyone you won't flirt with?!"

I quickly jumped to my own defence, explaining that to me this was not flirting. There was definitely no suggestive jokes, no eyebrow raises, I don't think I even held eye contact (these are clearly my most obvious flirting moves). To me sharing a little joke with a checkout person/bar worker/random in a club is just polite, perhaps even a nice way to bring cheer into someones day. I would actually communicate like this to anyone. Hell, I would even strike up banter like this with a girl!

But Brooke says it was all in my tone of voice. My tone of voice was suggestive, not what I actually said. She went on to say he probably wanted to 'do me'. So firstly this got me thinking about different flirting techniques and then secondly what it means for guys vs. girls.

This is not the first time I have been labelled a massive flirt. Blondie and KK say when I am working behind the bar there isn't a man in the goddam place that I do not flirt with. This is the girl who nine months ago didn't even know how to flirt, I woudn't have even recognised if I was being flirted with. Clearly I have come along way.

OK, so techniques. Well as I discoverd yesterday tone of voice is a biggy; it's not what you say it's how you say it. For example, the following phrases I say quite frequently at the pub and they tend to raise a little smirk on the face of the man of choice; "Would you like a large one?" "How are your nuts?" and my personal favourite "Would you like something to nibble on whilst you wait?". I suppose I say all of the above with a hint of sarcastic, sometimes dead-pan and almost always with an underlying presence of sweet and innocence. Perhaps that's the recipe for the tone of voice flirt.

Along with tone of voice there is the very often discussed form of flirting; banter. I first came across 'banter' in my second year of uni. SR began major flirts with the rugby boys and inparticular the rugby captain and often told us how much she loved his 'banter'. 'Banter' was discussed so much that the rest of us girls couldn't bare to hear the word even whispered by the time we reached our end of year exams. But 'banter' has recently made a come back. KK even messaged me yesterday to say she had been flirting with a couple of 18 year olds; 'Not to sound big headed but I think my best pulling skill is my banter', Of course it is, good 'banter' out weighs everything else. I like to think anyone could woo David Beckham with good 'banter' even if you were wearing your sweaty old pj pants, most favourite holey vest top, with no bra.
Obviously there are a load of other techniques, most of which I am still completely unaware of. Here are a few good'uns:

Eye Contact - love this, especially when the other person feels a little uncomfortable or they lose their train of thought. Do try, it's hilar.

Hair Twizzling - I am frequently accused of pulling this move but in fact I have an undiagnosed, uncontrollable anxiety disorder which means I am constantly twlizzling and pulling out my hair. Therefore tread carefully this one.

Negging - obviously learnt to us from Neil Strus and his book The Game. Insulting your boy or girl of choice just enough for them to think your not interested. It will drive them a little mad thinking that your not at all interested and everyone knows the age old beast of wanting things you can't have...

So is flirting different for guys vs. girls? I think so. I believe girls flirt a lot. I am definitely guilty of flirting with waiters (one particular visit to Pizza Express with my oldest bestie springs to mind - I saved us a tenner on the bill!), car mechanics ('could someone help me with my car?' cue the hair twizzle and the eye contact) and I even like to flirt with the geeky boys who come in the pub because I like to think it makes them feel good.

Guys on the other hand I am not sure. Obviously there are the extremes; the guys who flirt with anything moving vs. the guys who can't even look at a women. But, I believe if a guy is flirting with you then he kinda is interested. Correct me if I am wrong but I believe a guy wouldn't bother to be witty, charming and even think of things to say to a girl who he wouldn't want to get with. It's that simple.

Guys don't use flirting to save money on restaurant bills for the risk of looking like a cheapskate, they wouldn't play the damsel-in-distress card to car mechanics for the risk of looking 'gay' and they definitely wouldn't flirt with the geeky looking girls just to make them feel good. They flirt to get their end away. It's the he's-just-not-that-into-you rule.

And it's Monday again. Time flies...

I was on fire Friday night. My year-ago self would not have recognised me!
The usual pub crew came in and bought with them brand new fresh meat. Really fit fresh meat an' all, one of them was actually beautiful. His body was amazing; incredible arms, tasty tattoos, great hair and gorgeous teeth. He was so fit that I wasn't even embarrassed by the tiny amount of drooling I was doing whilst peering at him over the top of the wine menu.

I knew I had to get talking to them, I had a great opening line because we had a mutual connection, but I was on my own without my back up (in the form of my gal pals) and stone cold sober. I went over their way to 'clean the bar' whilst contemplating what to say. I tried to remember the last time mega hot guys actually came in the pub. I settled on never and went for my opening line...

Referring to a conversation we had had a little earlier on; 'So, if you don't go out in Bedford where do you go out?'. OK, pretty lame but it bloody worked, we got talking. They go out in Hitchin, live in Biggleswade and turn out to be the brother of one of the regular guys. Before I even knew it I had pulled up a bar stool, already inspected the really fit ones tattoos and found them inviting themselves to my New Year party. Good move me. My confidence was sky high.

I think I flew home Friday night. Once home I immediately facebooked the girls; Girls, u have unleashed a demon, I was on fucking fire tonight

When I went into work yesterday one of the guys I work with asked if I got any of their numbers. I explained to my in-a-relationship-for-five-years work colleague that this wasn't the way of doing things anymore, number-schmumber, it is all about facebook these days. Although, I haven't even got to the facebook stage yet either, but I did put in some very good ground-work. Perhaps this is evidence of my all or nothing training in action? Have I just had a break through?

In other news, I had quite a bit of texting action. I was liasing with Oil a little bit. To mine and the girls disgust he text me this on Friday; Heyup lovecat! At a wedding tomorrow so staying clear of Deadford this week. I'm guessing ull be out in force?xxx

The girls response went exactly like this:
KK: Oh my fucking god. I need to stop defending him!!
Blondie: Lol what a dweeb

I gave him the BOD and he did redeem himself over the next few texts. Turns out he's going to be out next week so we'll see what happens there. I also heard from a new boy Jumper Josh. Met him out a few weekends in a row, the last time I saw him his friend came up to me with the god awful line of: My mate over there really fancies you. I can't remember my response but I shouldn't imagine it was good. Anyhoo, at the end of last week I had a friend request from him - very odd considering I didn't know he knew my name; I certainly didn't know his. I inboxed him; Hi boy from The Rose, should I be worried how you found me on fb? He responded saying something about me being tagged in some of the pictures on The Rose' facebook - another new form of media for this game milarky.

Jumper Josh said he was going out Saturday night but I didn't see him. I wasn't too fussed. He messaged me yesterday asking if I did actually go out - quite eager-beaver. Myself and the girls FB stalked him last night in the pub and he does have very fit friends so I gave him the BOD too and chatted a little more. He asked me out for a drink but I thought that could have been a little odd. I softened the let down by saying I'd be in town next weekend and gave him by number.

So all in all quite a bit of action for me and I haven't even thought about what my babies would look like with any of these boys. Nice work!