I thought it was too good to be true!
Me and Nigel, working together as a team. Fair enough he was acting as creepy as always,-no change there. But nothing more than that.
I had expected him to make the most of how closely we now have to work. I've been waiting for him to accost me in the lift, or rub his sweaty, polyester-covered leg up against mine under the table.
But so far; Nothing. Zip, Zilch. Nada.
Nothing, that is, until today!
He was obviously waiting to catch me off my guard.
Try it on with me? Too obvious! At least until we'd been working together for a few weeks.
So we completed on this massive project we've been putting together pretty much since my promotion. It was a huge feeling of relief and for a second, as we dotted the final 'i''s and crossed the final 't''s, I was so elated that I almost forgot who was sharing the joy with me.
Don't get me wrong: Nigel is great at his job, and credit where it's due, if it weren't for him, I doubt I would have had the slightest clue of how to go about any of it. It's just such a pity that he has to be such a sex-maniacal slime-ball!
There was a burst of excitement and high-fives were exchanged-perfectly acceptable.
Quickly I remembered who's greasy palm I was slapping and composure was resumed. Project over, I stood to gather my belongings and leave for lunch.
And that's when I felt the enormous SLAP on my arse!
I gulped first, in shock, and my brain tried to compute what signal the stinging sensation on my left butt-cheek was sending it.
Had he really just done that?
Surely this was sexual harrasment from the 70's!
I turned around and glared down at his smug mug.
"What do you think you're doing"? I almost spat, although I was trying desperately to sound like a calm, sane person and not some drama queen.
Perhaps I could have been mistaken after all?
"What"? Nigel shrugged, pretending not to know what I was talking about. "Don't be such a prude. I'm only having a little celebration of my own. Besides, I know you're up for it".
I asked him, In as calm a voice as I could muster, what the hell he meant by that?
"Well", he announced, as if he had been thinking about this for a while. "You were all over Donal Dashwood like a rash, so I take it you're well over your husband by now. Fair game, if you ask me. No point letting a hot little body like yours go to waste".
Then he grinned like the Cheshire Cat and slapped my behind once again!
I was gobsmacked! Imagine the bare-faced-cheek of him! Pardon the pun!
"I FANCIED Donal Dashwood" I did spit this time. "And I am Not 'fair game', to you, or anybody else. Pull a stunt like that again and i'll be having a cosy little chat with your wife, you old creep. And if not her, then maybe I'll file an official complaint about you! See how fair the game is then"!
With that I pulled on my jacket and began to stomp authoritatively out of the room, trying to leave with an air of dignity, even after what he had said and done.
But as I was leaving he called out to me:
"Do you really wanna risk loosing this job Ruby? After all, it is your word against mine. And I'll be honest, if I hadn't spoken up so highly for you after that disasterous interview you'd never have gotten this job. You have quite a lot to thank me for lady, and it's about time you started showing me some gratitude"!
His words made me shiver. Honestly, I've never been so shocked!
I said nothing more and left the room, but deep down I was shaking-I haven't stopped yet.
Looks like Nasty Nigel is really living up to his nick-name, and in more ways than one.
What on Earth am I gonna do now?
Nov 20, 2009
Nov 19, 2009
Part 31- Hot and Sweaty men....
Lola and I felt we needed a bit of Girl time to re-bond after the whole 'married lover' debarcle, so last night I suggested we head down to the dance club -Club Cuba- that my dad and his mistress introduced me to, for a bit of fun and frolicks.
We had the best time!
Again the place was jam-packed with a mix of men and women, young and old, and every single person was out to have a good time. We picked us out a couple of hot guys who looked like they could find their way around a dance floor, and salsa-d ourselves away to heaven!
That's the great thing about that place-it's not just full of couples wanting to improve their skills-it doesn't even seem to be a sort of singles place where you might go to pick up a date. The vibe is more chilled out: We're here to dance. That's all that matters.
You can dance with as many people as you like, or stay with the same partner all night, no strings attached, and nobody takes offence or takes it too seriously! I've never experienced anywhere like it!
I danced with Jose, a beautiful Spaniard who certainly taught me a thing or two! He had a fantastic body and was most definately born with rhythm! He knew every move, every beat. Lola danced with his friend Nico, who was equally brilliant. After a while another guy cut in and asked me to dance with him. Under normal circumstances I'd be self concious about how hot and sweaty I'd become after several energetic spins around the floor, but here, no one seems to care!
So I did a Rhumba with Richard, and a Cha cha cha with Charlie. Lola didn't give her married guy a second thought as she twirled and whirled with a string of hot, hot men. And that's another thing-all the men (well, apart from some of the older ones-like my dad) are really HOT!
We were like kids in a sweet shop!
Our tongues were literally hanging out!
And not just from exhaustion!
"This place is amazing"! I heard Lola scream at one point, as Mario the Italian spun her around in a triple loop! And all the while the band kept belting out latin tunes and the dance floor remained at full capacity.
When we were so worn out that we could dance no more we opted out for a sit down and a Mojito. And a spy on all those who were still going strong. There was great viewing!
"I'm glad we're friends again", Lola told me as we took our first thirst-quenching sip of refreshing lime.
I nodded. I was glad too. No matter how I felt about her morals, I couldn't exclude Lola from my life. She was too important to me.
Besides, I was starting to see that sometimes the affair doesn't cause the breakdown of a marriage. Sometimes the affair comes after the marriage has broken down. And the 'other' person can't always be to blame.
Except in the case of MY marriage, obviously.
So we went our seperate ways, exhausted but happy. Lola, to dream about her lover, and wish he was with her then, and not his wife.
And me? To be glad that I'm young, free and single, and able to enjoy nights like that whenever I fancy. Oh, and perhaps Jose might pop up in my dreams somewhere too! Well, you never know.....
We had the best time!
Again the place was jam-packed with a mix of men and women, young and old, and every single person was out to have a good time. We picked us out a couple of hot guys who looked like they could find their way around a dance floor, and salsa-d ourselves away to heaven!
That's the great thing about that place-it's not just full of couples wanting to improve their skills-it doesn't even seem to be a sort of singles place where you might go to pick up a date. The vibe is more chilled out: We're here to dance. That's all that matters.
You can dance with as many people as you like, or stay with the same partner all night, no strings attached, and nobody takes offence or takes it too seriously! I've never experienced anywhere like it!
I danced with Jose, a beautiful Spaniard who certainly taught me a thing or two! He had a fantastic body and was most definately born with rhythm! He knew every move, every beat. Lola danced with his friend Nico, who was equally brilliant. After a while another guy cut in and asked me to dance with him. Under normal circumstances I'd be self concious about how hot and sweaty I'd become after several energetic spins around the floor, but here, no one seems to care!
So I did a Rhumba with Richard, and a Cha cha cha with Charlie. Lola didn't give her married guy a second thought as she twirled and whirled with a string of hot, hot men. And that's another thing-all the men (well, apart from some of the older ones-like my dad) are really HOT!
We were like kids in a sweet shop!
Our tongues were literally hanging out!
And not just from exhaustion!
"This place is amazing"! I heard Lola scream at one point, as Mario the Italian spun her around in a triple loop! And all the while the band kept belting out latin tunes and the dance floor remained at full capacity.
When we were so worn out that we could dance no more we opted out for a sit down and a Mojito. And a spy on all those who were still going strong. There was great viewing!
"I'm glad we're friends again", Lola told me as we took our first thirst-quenching sip of refreshing lime.
I nodded. I was glad too. No matter how I felt about her morals, I couldn't exclude Lola from my life. She was too important to me.
Besides, I was starting to see that sometimes the affair doesn't cause the breakdown of a marriage. Sometimes the affair comes after the marriage has broken down. And the 'other' person can't always be to blame.
Except in the case of MY marriage, obviously.
So we went our seperate ways, exhausted but happy. Lola, to dream about her lover, and wish he was with her then, and not his wife.
And me? To be glad that I'm young, free and single, and able to enjoy nights like that whenever I fancy. Oh, and perhaps Jose might pop up in my dreams somewhere too! Well, you never know.....
Nov 12, 2009
Part 30-finally, a scarlet woman I approve of....
So I went and we met and the thing is, I REALLY liked her!
Rose is in her early fifties (at a guess) and though my dad is in his sixties he seemed young in her presence, as if a glow of youth reflected from her and he was bathing in it.
She is lovely to look at, beautiful I suppose, like those women who advertise anti-wrinkle cream, older but fabulous. Her skin is smooth and flawless-way better than mine which is already starting to show signs of a mis-spent period in my twenties. She is elegent in every sense, her dress which is modern yet mature, her hair-style which is sharp and healthy and yet not too young, she carries herslef with poise and grace.
I almost fell in love with her myself!
Dad is obviously smitten and it isn't difficult to see why. Aside from her TV model looks and movie star character Rose is also a lovely person. She is well spoken, confident yet not over-bearing, she has a wonderful sense of humour and told jokes about the differences between men and women at which I couldn't help but roar with laughter at.
She is also very clever and astute. She has been running her own business for years, with much success, and though she has never married or had children she seems to have a close knit circle of friends and extended family and relationships which she values with great importance.
If for some reason I had been asked to select a wife for my father (or indeed a mother for myself) undoubtedly I would have chosen Rose.
We passed a very enjoyable evening, the three of us. Firstly dinner in Chez Claude. It turns out Claude is a friend of Rose and she has been dining there for years although I had never even heard of it until this meeting was organised. It was a small, rustic, authentic French place, with a throbbing clientelle and delicious food. And though I wanted so much not to get on with dad's other woman (especially when she began conversing with some of the wait staff in fluent French) we soon began to hit it off like old friends over our meal.
She is obviously adventurous too-persuading us both to try exciting new dishes and finishing the meal with a digestif and a couple of cocktails. My kind of woman!
I have never seen my mother drink anything other than Gin and tonic, unless you count a sweet sherry at Christmas or Champagne if offered at some social event.
After dinner it was off to 'Club Cuba' which really opened my eye's to the relationship between dad and Rose.
Instead of the OAP centre I had been expecting, Club Cuba turned out to be an underground dance hall, akin to the staff quarters on Dirty Dancing! There were people of all ages and races dancing in a variety of styles to a hip and happening Latin-style band.
The place was hot and sweaty but the vibe was cool and I LOVED it!
Okay, well in fairness to begin with I felt like a bit of a plonker because I had no dance partner and visions of my high-school disco flashed disconcertingly into my head. But after a few minutes I was swept up by a tall, handsome hunk who was dressed in full cuban regalia and he spun me around the floor! From him I was passed onto another, equally gorgeous guy and it didn't take my legs long to begin tapping and twirling to the heavy beat.
I waved at dad and Rose -who were also tripping the light fantastic like a couple of Strictly Come Dancing Proffesionals-every now and then and ended up having the most fantastic night!
Between songs we paused for drinks to cool down and chat over. Dad and Rose come here every week, I learned, after dad's conscience-easing visit's to me and an episode of Emmerdale. They took dance lessons together (it turns out that's how they met) and ended up keeping up the hot moves they'd learned!
I absolutely adored the place and couldn't help thinking it would be fun to bring the girls here sometime.
How amazing that my quiet, boring old dad has been living it up in here with his fancy woman for months now? At least in a place like this he can be sure he'll never bump into my mum! Nor any of her nosey old cronies! If only they knew!
I couldn't help feeling really happy for him. At last, after years spent in misery with the nagging snob he has finally found a woman he can have fun with. He has, in my opinion, found true love.
I had such a great time with dad and Rose that I have decided if things don't work out for them (and don't ask me what I mean by that) I'm single...I'll have her myself!
Oh, and I'm going back to Club Cuba sometime next week!
Rose is in her early fifties (at a guess) and though my dad is in his sixties he seemed young in her presence, as if a glow of youth reflected from her and he was bathing in it.
She is lovely to look at, beautiful I suppose, like those women who advertise anti-wrinkle cream, older but fabulous. Her skin is smooth and flawless-way better than mine which is already starting to show signs of a mis-spent period in my twenties. She is elegent in every sense, her dress which is modern yet mature, her hair-style which is sharp and healthy and yet not too young, she carries herslef with poise and grace.
I almost fell in love with her myself!
Dad is obviously smitten and it isn't difficult to see why. Aside from her TV model looks and movie star character Rose is also a lovely person. She is well spoken, confident yet not over-bearing, she has a wonderful sense of humour and told jokes about the differences between men and women at which I couldn't help but roar with laughter at.
She is also very clever and astute. She has been running her own business for years, with much success, and though she has never married or had children she seems to have a close knit circle of friends and extended family and relationships which she values with great importance.
If for some reason I had been asked to select a wife for my father (or indeed a mother for myself) undoubtedly I would have chosen Rose.
We passed a very enjoyable evening, the three of us. Firstly dinner in Chez Claude. It turns out Claude is a friend of Rose and she has been dining there for years although I had never even heard of it until this meeting was organised. It was a small, rustic, authentic French place, with a throbbing clientelle and delicious food. And though I wanted so much not to get on with dad's other woman (especially when she began conversing with some of the wait staff in fluent French) we soon began to hit it off like old friends over our meal.
She is obviously adventurous too-persuading us both to try exciting new dishes and finishing the meal with a digestif and a couple of cocktails. My kind of woman!
I have never seen my mother drink anything other than Gin and tonic, unless you count a sweet sherry at Christmas or Champagne if offered at some social event.
After dinner it was off to 'Club Cuba' which really opened my eye's to the relationship between dad and Rose.
Instead of the OAP centre I had been expecting, Club Cuba turned out to be an underground dance hall, akin to the staff quarters on Dirty Dancing! There were people of all ages and races dancing in a variety of styles to a hip and happening Latin-style band.
The place was hot and sweaty but the vibe was cool and I LOVED it!
Okay, well in fairness to begin with I felt like a bit of a plonker because I had no dance partner and visions of my high-school disco flashed disconcertingly into my head. But after a few minutes I was swept up by a tall, handsome hunk who was dressed in full cuban regalia and he spun me around the floor! From him I was passed onto another, equally gorgeous guy and it didn't take my legs long to begin tapping and twirling to the heavy beat.
I waved at dad and Rose -who were also tripping the light fantastic like a couple of Strictly Come Dancing Proffesionals-every now and then and ended up having the most fantastic night!
Between songs we paused for drinks to cool down and chat over. Dad and Rose come here every week, I learned, after dad's conscience-easing visit's to me and an episode of Emmerdale. They took dance lessons together (it turns out that's how they met) and ended up keeping up the hot moves they'd learned!
I absolutely adored the place and couldn't help thinking it would be fun to bring the girls here sometime.
How amazing that my quiet, boring old dad has been living it up in here with his fancy woman for months now? At least in a place like this he can be sure he'll never bump into my mum! Nor any of her nosey old cronies! If only they knew!
I couldn't help feeling really happy for him. At last, after years spent in misery with the nagging snob he has finally found a woman he can have fun with. He has, in my opinion, found true love.
I had such a great time with dad and Rose that I have decided if things don't work out for them (and don't ask me what I mean by that) I'm single...I'll have her myself!
Oh, and I'm going back to Club Cuba sometime next week!
Nov 10, 2009
Part 29-getting to know the other woman....
This is a bit of a weird one and I'd like to know what you think?
My dad rang me last night. He wants me to meet up for dinner with him tonight....well, with him and his mistress! How mad is that?
After years (in fact a whole life-time or there abouts) of loathing my mother I have suddenly developed some kind of sympathy towards her which is tugging on my heart and making it feel so wrong to condone his cheating on her. And I would be condoning it surely, if I agreed to meet her and keep it all a secret from my mother.
I asked my dad why I need to meet this woman anyway, I mean, it isn't as if we are going to be around each other very much-if ever- if he is never planning to leave mum, and although he has told me about her existence I think it would be a whole lot easier for me if I convince myself that I know NOTHING about her and pretend my father's confession was all a dream. That way I can also pretend that I'm not just as bad as him every time I am in my mother's company. Even though that wouldn't be very often at all.
His reply?
He needs me to meet Rose (Oh no! Now the imagined personality has a name!) because only with Rose can he truly be himself. And he wants me-his only daughter- to at last get to know the real him.
Can I honestly believe that after 31 years I have never actually met my own father?
It's true I suppose that I know surprisingly little about him. And it would be nice to get to know what he is like when is is relaxed and comfortable, and not worrying about making a mess, saying the wrong thing or what the neighbours might think!
So with some caution I accepted his offer. We are meeting at a little French Bistro in some secluded corner of town which I have never before heard of, before going on to a club they apparently often visit together where they learn dance or something. I have pictured old dears learning the fox-trot and am wondering why they would choose to take me there?
I am shocked at the realisation that my dear old dad and this woman have a life together, one where people see them as, and believe them to be, a couple. How easy it must be to deceive those around you, to pretend you are one person, when really you are completely another. I am fascinated to meet the woman who has such sway over dad, a man who has kept his own opinions and ideas so well hidden for so many years that even I do not know who he is. I can't help but wonder what is so special about her.
Not long ago a call came through on my mobile. It was my mother's number. She rarely ever calls me, although of late she likes to inform me when rich husbands split up with their wives, just in case there's a chance I might like to hook up with one! I know it's a dream of hers!
I ignored the call. If she asked me had I plans for tonight I would have had to lie! And even though I got fairly used to lying to my mother throughout my teens and early twenties, (in fact I still do) it just wouldn't sit well with me in this particular instance.
Look who's doing the cheating now!
My dad rang me last night. He wants me to meet up for dinner with him tonight....well, with him and his mistress! How mad is that?
After years (in fact a whole life-time or there abouts) of loathing my mother I have suddenly developed some kind of sympathy towards her which is tugging on my heart and making it feel so wrong to condone his cheating on her. And I would be condoning it surely, if I agreed to meet her and keep it all a secret from my mother.
I asked my dad why I need to meet this woman anyway, I mean, it isn't as if we are going to be around each other very much-if ever- if he is never planning to leave mum, and although he has told me about her existence I think it would be a whole lot easier for me if I convince myself that I know NOTHING about her and pretend my father's confession was all a dream. That way I can also pretend that I'm not just as bad as him every time I am in my mother's company. Even though that wouldn't be very often at all.
His reply?
He needs me to meet Rose (Oh no! Now the imagined personality has a name!) because only with Rose can he truly be himself. And he wants me-his only daughter- to at last get to know the real him.
Can I honestly believe that after 31 years I have never actually met my own father?
It's true I suppose that I know surprisingly little about him. And it would be nice to get to know what he is like when is is relaxed and comfortable, and not worrying about making a mess, saying the wrong thing or what the neighbours might think!
So with some caution I accepted his offer. We are meeting at a little French Bistro in some secluded corner of town which I have never before heard of, before going on to a club they apparently often visit together where they learn dance or something. I have pictured old dears learning the fox-trot and am wondering why they would choose to take me there?
I am shocked at the realisation that my dear old dad and this woman have a life together, one where people see them as, and believe them to be, a couple. How easy it must be to deceive those around you, to pretend you are one person, when really you are completely another. I am fascinated to meet the woman who has such sway over dad, a man who has kept his own opinions and ideas so well hidden for so many years that even I do not know who he is. I can't help but wonder what is so special about her.
Not long ago a call came through on my mobile. It was my mother's number. She rarely ever calls me, although of late she likes to inform me when rich husbands split up with their wives, just in case there's a chance I might like to hook up with one! I know it's a dream of hers!
I ignored the call. If she asked me had I plans for tonight I would have had to lie! And even though I got fairly used to lying to my mother throughout my teens and early twenties, (in fact I still do) it just wouldn't sit well with me in this particular instance.
Look who's doing the cheating now!
Nov 5, 2009
Part 28-where I eventually come clean!
Okay, okay, I know I left you hanging there. I just wasn't in the right place to tell the world what a doofus I have been. Instead I've been hiding under the safety of my duvet and trying not to talk to ANYONE for ages! But I finally caught up with the girls a few nights ago, cleared the air with Lola, and filled them in on my most ridiculous exploit to date.
And now i'm ready to share it with you lot too...
So there we were, Nigel and I, sitting in the dimly lit Wine and Tapas bar getting sozzled on Rioja and -amazingly- chatting away like two old pals. Don't ask me what we talked about because I don't remember a word of it, but to look at us I'm sure anyone would have thought we were a couple, the way we were snuggled so close on the tiny couch and making each other laugh.
Shudder!
I don't know how many bottles we emptied, but I vaughly remember that we moved onto tequila slammers at some point before the bar staff suggested we'd enjoyed enough of their hospitality! Utterly mortifying, I know, but at the time it just seemed so hilarious!
We stood out on the street and laughed our heads off. I remember thinking how cool it was to have been thrown out of a bar! God, we must have looked pathetic!
Then somehow laughing together turned into snogging each other like two hormone-ridden teenagers after the school disco! (Just the memory of this makes me want to vomit-my lips touched Nigel's greasy face-gag)!
We were eating the face off each other in public! Out on the street right in front of the Tapas bar window! Ugh! How utterly undignified! And what about those poor people still inside, tucking into their platters of octopus tentacles and garlic mushrooms! How could they keep it down?
Then I think Nigel actually pushed me up against the wall and things began to get a little frisky! The awful thing is that I must have been enjoying it, because although I pushed him away for long enough to hail a passing taxi, we did climb into said taxi together and continue snogging all the way back to mine...
And when the taxi pulled up outside my place?
Yes you've guessed it, we both got out!
Each time I think about this I pray none of the neighbours were gawking out of their windows! The shame! To have arrived home with a man old enough to be my father (well, near enough) who is slightly balding and has a belly like a pregnant woman!
We must have continued drinking when we got home because the following morning I found an empty wine bottle on the coffee table and a couple of empty glasses.
I also found myself, in BED, next to the most awful, puke-enducing creature on God's earth: I 'm ashamed to admit it but I woke up in bed with NIGEL!
THANKFULLY we were both FULLY clothed!
Obviously the alcohol had got the better of us and prevented any shenanigans from taking place! Oh thank you Lord for inventing brewers droop! Plus, the evidence would suggest that I may have been sick, several times, in various parts of the house...no surprises there then!
Can you imagine how much worse things would be if I had actually slept with NIGEL?
Things are bad enough, because he now thinks he's actually in with a chance and flirts with me at every opportunity! Being in the office is a nightmare, and he isn't exactly being subtle about it! He doesn't even have the shame to be embarrassed! It's cringe-worthy. But it's all my fault.
I haven't seen or heard from the wonderful Mr. Dashwood since he legged it home to the Missus. -so much for working closely together! And I bet if Nigel's been in contact with him (which i'm sure he has) he will have embellished the details of what happened that night to make himself appear stud-like, rather than the (thankful) letdown that he turned out to be! So no chance for me there at all now...not that I would want one.
I think I have learned a lesson from all of this:
I'm not ready to get into the whole sex/dating thing yet. I know that Nigel was never going to be anybody's Mr. Right, but I'm just thankful that I didn't do it with Donal either. Because I'm not ready for the emotional up-heaval that moving on to someone new will eventually bring. And plus...yet another married man! At least this one WASN'T cheating on his wife!
I miss Mark all over again!
Typical!
Oh, and by the way, Lola is still dating her married man. I hate it, but I can't hate her, so i've decided to try and just ignore any mention of him or the fact that he exists. Might get a bit difficult though, because from what I can tell, Lola is really falling for him. Sooner or later there are going to be pieces to put back together. I just dread being the one to say "I told you so....".
And now i'm ready to share it with you lot too...
So there we were, Nigel and I, sitting in the dimly lit Wine and Tapas bar getting sozzled on Rioja and -amazingly- chatting away like two old pals. Don't ask me what we talked about because I don't remember a word of it, but to look at us I'm sure anyone would have thought we were a couple, the way we were snuggled so close on the tiny couch and making each other laugh.
Shudder!
I don't know how many bottles we emptied, but I vaughly remember that we moved onto tequila slammers at some point before the bar staff suggested we'd enjoyed enough of their hospitality! Utterly mortifying, I know, but at the time it just seemed so hilarious!
We stood out on the street and laughed our heads off. I remember thinking how cool it was to have been thrown out of a bar! God, we must have looked pathetic!
Then somehow laughing together turned into snogging each other like two hormone-ridden teenagers after the school disco! (Just the memory of this makes me want to vomit-my lips touched Nigel's greasy face-gag)!
We were eating the face off each other in public! Out on the street right in front of the Tapas bar window! Ugh! How utterly undignified! And what about those poor people still inside, tucking into their platters of octopus tentacles and garlic mushrooms! How could they keep it down?
Then I think Nigel actually pushed me up against the wall and things began to get a little frisky! The awful thing is that I must have been enjoying it, because although I pushed him away for long enough to hail a passing taxi, we did climb into said taxi together and continue snogging all the way back to mine...
And when the taxi pulled up outside my place?
Yes you've guessed it, we both got out!
Each time I think about this I pray none of the neighbours were gawking out of their windows! The shame! To have arrived home with a man old enough to be my father (well, near enough) who is slightly balding and has a belly like a pregnant woman!
We must have continued drinking when we got home because the following morning I found an empty wine bottle on the coffee table and a couple of empty glasses.
I also found myself, in BED, next to the most awful, puke-enducing creature on God's earth: I 'm ashamed to admit it but I woke up in bed with NIGEL!
THANKFULLY we were both FULLY clothed!
Obviously the alcohol had got the better of us and prevented any shenanigans from taking place! Oh thank you Lord for inventing brewers droop! Plus, the evidence would suggest that I may have been sick, several times, in various parts of the house...no surprises there then!
Can you imagine how much worse things would be if I had actually slept with NIGEL?
Things are bad enough, because he now thinks he's actually in with a chance and flirts with me at every opportunity! Being in the office is a nightmare, and he isn't exactly being subtle about it! He doesn't even have the shame to be embarrassed! It's cringe-worthy. But it's all my fault.
I haven't seen or heard from the wonderful Mr. Dashwood since he legged it home to the Missus. -so much for working closely together! And I bet if Nigel's been in contact with him (which i'm sure he has) he will have embellished the details of what happened that night to make himself appear stud-like, rather than the (thankful) letdown that he turned out to be! So no chance for me there at all now...not that I would want one.
I think I have learned a lesson from all of this:
I'm not ready to get into the whole sex/dating thing yet. I know that Nigel was never going to be anybody's Mr. Right, but I'm just thankful that I didn't do it with Donal either. Because I'm not ready for the emotional up-heaval that moving on to someone new will eventually bring. And plus...yet another married man! At least this one WASN'T cheating on his wife!
I miss Mark all over again!
Typical!
Oh, and by the way, Lola is still dating her married man. I hate it, but I can't hate her, so i've decided to try and just ignore any mention of him or the fact that he exists. Might get a bit difficult though, because from what I can tell, Lola is really falling for him. Sooner or later there are going to be pieces to put back together. I just dread being the one to say "I told you so....".
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