There's a man I see almost every morning who is striking. Tall, Dark and Handsome & he wears a quilted jacket. That would be the sum total of what I know of him.
Technically I know more, but I'd argue it's circumstantial. We board the same train every day, he stands at the same point on the platform every day, and when my eyes flicker over him as I stroll past him each morning I've learnt he looks grumpy and stern every single day. I've observed his lovely long legs and no wedding ring.
He's the type of man who I wonder if he'll prolong his gaze long enough to let me smile at him, and I wonder if he'd smile back. Not for any particular reason, but I think he has a lovely face so he must have a lovely smile too?!
This evening he was an unusual (for the return journey) but a welcome distraction. The Conversation with Mr Magic is getting closer which means I'm revisiting the vicious circle of "I can do it", "I can't do it", "I can do it", I don't want to do it", "I can do it", "I'll just leave it a little while longer ...". Distractions are thus required.
So, so far we have Mr Quilted Jacket at an ungodly hour on the station platform, the prospect of sighting Mr Daniel Craig on the Tube journey, and Mr Cute, Tall but has turned up trousers (I'll have to think of a better moniker!) to accompany me from the Tube to the office. The latter I like because he's cute and tall, so tall that even in heels I have to turn my head skywards to smile at him which in turn makes me feel very girly and then makes me laugh! Add to that the not-even-vaguely-unattractive boss and you see I've now got a thoroughfare of good looking men to distract me throughout the day away from Mr Magic.
This is a good thing, even if it does involve a quilted jacket :-)
Showing posts with label legs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label legs. Show all posts
Friday, 5 March 2010
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Fire ... bar .. Part II
Still no sleep, much like last weekend but at least then I'd had the tortuous pleasure of 12 delicious sleepless hours in bed with Him. Oh last weekend was wonderful - yet another development in our seemingly never-ending, and never-boring relationship.
I knew from the moment I met him that I'd like him. Actually, make that the second time - the first I don't really recall him but that was probably due to being attached to dowdy girlfriend, dulling his brilliance. The second time however she was absent and I was immediately taken with his wit, in particular the way he would make exactly the same joke or comment that I was about to make, a fraction of a second before me - irritating, yet fascinating. We sat up talking until the early hours of the morning, our host comically passed out at our feet, and as he walked me to my car I remember a wave of satisfaction passing over me as I said goodbye.
Two and a half years later and despite an excruciatingly slow start, he finally kissed me for the second time by which point I felt drunk in satisfaction... though that may also have been down to the G&T's I had consumed by that point ;-) I'd had the most wonderful day in London, pottering from pillar to post, taking in Anish Kapoor at the RA, Mozart in St Martins before settling in a luxurious leather sofa in the National Gallery, admiring my favourite Masterpiece, awaiting his arrival. It felt terribly dramatic, and as we walked down the darkened Mall, towards a floodlit Buckingham Palace, I wanted to take him in my arms, and pause to appreciate that first moment of physical closeness. We ambled along to a nice pub and settled down, alcohol lubricating the necessary progression of the evening which would take us from faux friends to eager lovers.
The anticipation had been building steadily for months, taking me through so many emotional journeys and moral quandaries through a mixture of drunken evenings, testy emails, wonderful emails, handwritten modern day love letters and delightfully calm and relaxing days spent watching cricket. It was delightful to extend this experience to one with a physical dimension; to awaken from my temporary slumber to find myself draped in the arms and legs of his near naked wonderness, to find that his kisses are tender as well as deeply masculine and to add insult to injury he is supremely skilled at just about everything you would want a man in his position to be. So why the disappointment?
I'm a fairly open minded kind of girl who believes honesty is the best policy and one should not court the man of another woman. I've sat back and observed as he has spun his magic around me all the while being unutterably tolerable of me, and he's fallen for my charms whilst I've endured him and all the challenges around him. We've had a night of near-bliss but I now fear the next step is going to be ugly as we try to outdo each other in the frustrating way that we must. I'd rather we bypassed the obligatory wretchedness and went straight to bed, for one thing he's very warm, like a self heating hot water bottle. I'd describe the more pertinent physical aspects of his loveliness, but as I recall them I find myself drifting to that spot of contentment which means I can finally go back to bed and catch up on some sleep ... so it will have to wait for another time.
Oh damn, as I edit this a simple text from him leaves me spellbound. Damn him and his magical powers.
I knew from the moment I met him that I'd like him. Actually, make that the second time - the first I don't really recall him but that was probably due to being attached to dowdy girlfriend, dulling his brilliance. The second time however she was absent and I was immediately taken with his wit, in particular the way he would make exactly the same joke or comment that I was about to make, a fraction of a second before me - irritating, yet fascinating. We sat up talking until the early hours of the morning, our host comically passed out at our feet, and as he walked me to my car I remember a wave of satisfaction passing over me as I said goodbye.
Two and a half years later and despite an excruciatingly slow start, he finally kissed me for the second time by which point I felt drunk in satisfaction... though that may also have been down to the G&T's I had consumed by that point ;-) I'd had the most wonderful day in London, pottering from pillar to post, taking in Anish Kapoor at the RA, Mozart in St Martins before settling in a luxurious leather sofa in the National Gallery, admiring my favourite Masterpiece, awaiting his arrival. It felt terribly dramatic, and as we walked down the darkened Mall, towards a floodlit Buckingham Palace, I wanted to take him in my arms, and pause to appreciate that first moment of physical closeness. We ambled along to a nice pub and settled down, alcohol lubricating the necessary progression of the evening which would take us from faux friends to eager lovers.
The anticipation had been building steadily for months, taking me through so many emotional journeys and moral quandaries through a mixture of drunken evenings, testy emails, wonderful emails, handwritten modern day love letters and delightfully calm and relaxing days spent watching cricket. It was delightful to extend this experience to one with a physical dimension; to awaken from my temporary slumber to find myself draped in the arms and legs of his near naked wonderness, to find that his kisses are tender as well as deeply masculine and to add insult to injury he is supremely skilled at just about everything you would want a man in his position to be. So why the disappointment?
I'm a fairly open minded kind of girl who believes honesty is the best policy and one should not court the man of another woman. I've sat back and observed as he has spun his magic around me all the while being unutterably tolerable of me, and he's fallen for my charms whilst I've endured him and all the challenges around him. We've had a night of near-bliss but I now fear the next step is going to be ugly as we try to outdo each other in the frustrating way that we must. I'd rather we bypassed the obligatory wretchedness and went straight to bed, for one thing he's very warm, like a self heating hot water bottle. I'd describe the more pertinent physical aspects of his loveliness, but as I recall them I find myself drifting to that spot of contentment which means I can finally go back to bed and catch up on some sleep ... so it will have to wait for another time.
Oh damn, as I edit this a simple text from him leaves me spellbound. Damn him and his magical powers.
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