Chapter 34 - Singles Holiday or Cattle Market?

A mobbed London Gatwick on a Bank Holiday Monday wasn´t a great start, especially when every tall man wearing faded jeans reminded me of Adrian. Ade, I mean. MUST call him by his ´´proper´´ name, now that I know it! I tried to lose myself in Marie Claire on the flight but it was as blatant as a Joan Rivers facial who was going to the same resort as me. A posse of sombrero`d hippie-chicks from Leeds were already sparking off a crowd of guys from Kent - all with similarly ´different´celtic tattoos.
Thankfully, on arrival, my hotel is nice and the welcome party isn´t until tomorrow, so I can´t wait to snatch my key and retreat to my room. It takes me all of 2 minutes to strip off, slather on some Factor 20 and slip into my red bikini. Poolside entertainment looks promising and my dark shades let me have a good look around without looking nosey!
As far as a singles holiday goes, it seems that there are crowds of singles here rather than singletons, as in I´m-On-My-Own-And-Single.
Looks like I´m going to be alone.
Again!

Fancy a postcard? Just send me your postal address to singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk (and thanks to everyone who has asked for one so far!! My postcard address list is embarrassingly short, so far consisting of Tamsin, Mum, Jennifer, Delaney and, oh, CAN´T forget to send one to those gross guys at Geezer.....

I´m there!!!

OK - so I´m in Gran Canaria on the first day of my singles holiday. There´s loads of groups of guys, playing Snow Patrol from their balconies and slurping bottle of Peroni - so it´s not looking too promising.

I want to send all my readers a postcard - and will still be posting my chapters throughout the week so stay tuned.

Please send me your postal address to singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk and I´d be delighted to send you a card (and a little extra update away from my usual blog postings too...)

Be back with some more tomorrow..

Wish me luck - reckon this is going to be dire... And I can´t stop thinking about Adrian.....

xx

Chapter Thirty Three - Here Comes The Sun

I feel desperate. Betrayed, used and abused. I don’t let my guard down easily and yet Adrian, or Ade – as in Ade Gets Laid - as I’ve since found out, massaged me into a comfort zone. And I let it all out. And now I feel terrible. I don’t know why I trusted him, except for the fact that it all felt so right and natural. Maybe I’m just a stupid romantic – and maybe that’s why I should stay single – I’m not safe to be let out there into the whirlwind world of dating and relationships. I’m a fucking liability! What kind of an idiot falls for that trick? Except for a clown like me.

What a fool I am.

I wouldn’t mind, but I hadn’t really wanted to talk to him about all that stuff, but he’d kept on and on; his voice gentle and calming as we laid there in the early hours. He’d been stroking my cheek gently and I lost myself in the moment. He’d said that he wanted to know everything about me – what made me laugh, what made me sad, what made me angry and scared. And I hadn’t wanted to tell him, but he’d hugged me and said, “I know you’re freaked out about a relationship, but if you don’t tell me, if I don’t get to understand why you want to stay single, then you’ll run away. And then I’ll lose you.” And we simply don’t talk to each other like that on a day to day basis. None of us do. And now I can see how I fell for the oldest trick in the book – get the woman to talk about herself…

I need to get away from this. I can’t cope with the emotional bungee jump of launching myself from a height and now I’m left dangling hundreds of feet below. And I feel sick and disorientated and lost. I’m going straight into see Delaney about that singles holiday. Any excuse to escape for a few days!

*

OK - so here comes the sun.... Really, I’d been thinking more of a health spa, perhaps a European Chiva Som, but Delaney is delighted that I'm so willing to go. The problem is, she's booking me in for one of the singles holidays that are more resembling an 18-30’s brawl, but anything will do right now. I won’t tell Delaney that I have no intention of joining in with the drunken bar crawls or the intoxicated beach parties. I’m going for some time-out and a little recuperation. If I’m going to see this staying single idea out to the end, then I need to recharge my batteries. I obviously got a little lost on the way there – what with the Paul Ashkuri date, the relentless bouquets of flowers and then the mishap with Adrian. I can’t even bear to say his name. We’d been fantastic in bed together and I get a serious ache somewhere between my collar bones and my pelvis whenever I think of what he’s done to me. The lies are endless and the betrayal is too much to bear.

*

Tam came shopping with me after work and I started to get into the holiday spirit. I told her all about what happened with Adrian and she was really sympathetic, especially when I kept filling up with tears whenever I said his name. I feel so crap now that I couldn’t even muster some attitude when she said that she’s going to give Pete a second chance! How can he deserve a second chance? I don’t he should have even had a first chance! And with his wife pregnant too! It’s abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous, but I can’t continue to be Tam’s conscience. She’ll do what she wants anyway, and all I can do right now is be here as a sounding board – as much as it infuriates me that she’s happy to settle for second best. Anyway, I bought 4 bikinis and a gorgeous beach bag from Primark, along with a few pairs of flip flops too. Tam was dangling floaty tops and gypsy skirts at me every time I turned a corner, but I’m not interested. I’m determined to go with just the basics – a few bikinis, shorts and little else. I’m going to spend a week lying beside a pool. Even if I have to make up a few stories for Relationship Rehab this week – Delaney will never know! If Trevor Malone is organising a photo shoot for me to appear in Geezer, then I’m going to make sure I look shit hot for it – I’ll teach him and bloody Adrian to try and make a fool out of me!

*

Adrian hated himself. He had big feelings for Sophie and would have peeled the skin off his own arms for the opportunity to rewind a couple of days and to not have told Trevor about him and her. He should have known what a competitive bastard he was and now he’d ruined everything. He detested himself with such venom that he was embarrassed even to look in the mirror at his own reflection. But the damage had been done. He didn’t even have the nerve to try and call Sophie to apologise or to explain. And all the while Trevor was gloating that he’d been honest with Sophie Regan from the start, and that Ade should never have pretended that he worked for anything other than Geezer.

And now it was too late.

He felt like shit.

Chapter Thirty Two Chapter Thirty Four

Pulling Power #11

The Shouldn't Be Alloweds.

These are soooo bad they really shouldn't be here - but we'll give every one a fair chance.

What do you think? So bad, they're sad????




Pulling Power are still accepting your chat up lines or reasons for dumping that special/not-special person.

The response has been overwhelming and worldwide - so keep them coming and many thanks to everyone who has emailed in their lines so far. Very much appreciated!!

xx

Chapter Thirty Two - Reel Em In & Spit Em Out

I had to miss a couple of days. Sorry I haven’t been around. Talk about highs and lows!

Firstly Tam called me on Saturday afternoon to say that Rob and I didn’t need to come around. She’d said that Rob had an urgent MOT booked in and it was a bigger job than he’d expected, so would be late anyway. But she was acting strangely. So I pinned her down with my super-sleuth line of questioning and you won’t believe what she said! She told me that Pete was going to see her and wanted to talk! Of course, I said that it was a bit late for talking – what with his wife being pregnant. I wasn’t sure which of those 2 words were the most cutting – the fact that he has a WIFE or that she is PREGNANT! I told her about a quiz she should do about dating married men - but she probably won't look at it! Anyway, I was shocked at her spinelessness and told her that she needed to toughen up a bit. But Tam does what she wants and who am I to stand in judgement. Especially after what happened to me on Saturday night.

I went on to meet Trevor Malone. He was predictably charming and cheeky and his interview questions loaded with innuendo and sexual hints! He’s going to organise a photo shoot too and I’ve told him I won’t be getting my bits and pieces out on camera. He just laughed at me. He has a wicked twinkle in his eye that’s really attractive, but he’s so not my kind of guy. So then, I was peeved. I’d cancelled Adrian and Tam had cancelled me! So I sat in front of the televisions for a couple of hours, itchy and fidgety. I really wanted to go out and everything had gone wrong. So I opened a bottle of wine and after 3 glasses everything looked so much more positive. So I did something outrageous. I slid on my jeans and white ribbed vest, slung my gypsy beads around my neck, pulled my hair up into a loose ponytail and mustered up the courage to go to the gig. In the hope that Adrian had gone anyway….

He had.

He looked bloody gorgeous. As I’d anticipated the small venue was hot and sweaty and the band was fabulous. Adrian’s eyes lit up when he saw me walking toward the bar and I was shocked as he hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and then grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him with a little growl. I melted on the spot. We were inseparable all night. We danced and drank together, finding it difficult to keep our hands off each other. It was all so natural and easy – I wasn’t making any efforts to be sexy/funny/cute and he wasn’t trying to be macho/cool/witty. It just worked. The chemistry clicked. At the end of the gig he asked me if I wanted to get some chips and curry dip from the chippy. I loved the idea – so much more ‘me’ than the posh restaurants that Paul Ashkuri and Trevor Malone had booked. So we walked in the light rain through the streets of London at 2.30am plucking damp chips from a soggy paper cone. I went back to his house and the inevitable kind of happened. But it sort of didn’t happen either. I knew I wanted desperately to sleep with him, but it wasn’t in just a sex-for-the-sake-of-it way. He really had got into my head and I would have done anything to spend more time with him – to slide him out of his wet clothes and share our bodies seemed the most natural thing in the world.

So we did. It wasn’t earth-shattering and I hadn’t expected it to be. It was as if we’d known each other forever. We laughed and giggled, we took our time to experiment with each other and it was a beautiful warm moment. I’m overwhelmed by how I feel about him and it’s scary. We didn’t sleep much. We lay there afterwards talking about everything. He told me all about his childhood and his twin brother that had died when he was 13. I didn’t want to talk about my life – it seemed so boring and angsty compared to his. But he cuddled me and stroked my face, kissing my eyelids and lips as he’d told me that he wanted to know me – to know what made me tick, made me cry, made me laugh. And so I began to let down the barriers. I told him about my Mum and her lifelong mission to shack up with the wrong man, I told him about my sister and her strange wannabe keep-up-with-the-Jones’s lifestyle. I told him about my string of failed relationships and how I feel about my future. It was hard at first. And then he asked me loads more questions and it was such fun – favourite band, best sex position, fave drink, school friend, animal, first pet, fave colour, birthday, how many partners I’d had, my greatest fear…. Nobody ever asks you these questions and when somebody that you feel close to does ask – then it’s amazing how close you become to them. And how quickly.

*

So I started the week on an immense high. I literally floated home from Adrian’s on Sunday – after he’d cooked me a fantastic Eggs Benedict for breakfast – his Hollandaise sauce was to die for! I’d showered and dressed. He’d dried my jeans and vest out on his radiators overnight – I hadn’t even noticed him pick them up from the floor. What a guy! I floated to my desk and even AJ’s scowl didn’t touch me. Talk about rose-coloured glasses – I had a bloody bouquet of roses on my desk. This time the name tag read ‘Adrian’ and my stomach flipped. I wasn’t sure how to keep this a secret and pondered again over whether I was breaking my promise to stay single. But I wasn’t about to compromise this potentially fulfilling relationship with Adrian all because of a stupid promise.

It all fell to pieces on Wednesday morning. I thought it was strange, the way that AJ plonked the new copy of Geezer magazine onto my desk. I looked up at her smirking face questioningly, but she said nothing except, “page 23.” I waited until she moved away before casually flicking through the pages screaming HOT HOLLYOAKS BABES and SKY'S HOT BABES - STUNT AWARDS STUNNERS until I reach Trevor Malone’s column. He’d named it ‘Reeling ‘Em In And Spitting ‘Em Out’. I read with disinterest his sexist comments about the best way to get a woman into bed is to ask her about herself. He’d listed a string of ridiculously flimsy chat up lines, including the ‘tell me about yourself’ one. And then the penny dropped. I felt sick and my face flushed as I read his work,

‘.. the oldest trick in the book guys, is to ask her about herself. The birds fall for it every time, without fail. It’s as easy as ‘OK babe, who’s your favourite singer, what’s your greatest fear, what’s your favourite colour…’ Subconsciously you’re getting the chicks to unpack their baggage in front of you and once that’s out of the way they’ll feel close enough to you mentally to get their kit off. Here in the Geezer offices, we’ve notched up more grooves on our bedposts from using these tactics. Email any of us with your best chat up lines.’

And then I’d seen the list of email addresses. But there was only one that jumped out at me – Ford, Adrian AFord@geezermag.com. That wasn’t my Adrian was it? I thought he worked for the Accountancy magazine.

I’ve been set up.

I feel sick.

I know that AJ laughed as I ran past her, holding my mouth as I headed for the toilets.

I am completely devastated.

Chapter 31
Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty One - A Change of Plans?

Jennifer held her mobile in her hands, paranoid as she wondered whether to call Sophie or not. Generally she was a fabulous sister, if a little square on the men front, but Jen wasn’t sure how Sophie would react to her latest shenanigans. She felt like shit. It was taking her at least 4 days to recover lately and the thoughts of another weekend filled her with dread. She was caught in the spiral of taking so much coke that she didn’t care who the man was that she left with – as long as he was male – that’s where the criteria began and ended. Her perpetual runny nose was irritating her and she hated the way that she had to continually sniff! She looked down at her gel nails with their squared whitened tips and focussed on the backs of her hands. The fake tan had settled in darker lines in the maze of tiny diamond-shaped wrinkles that spanned her hands. She felt sick as she remembered how the backs of her hands were once as smooth as foie gras and resented the signs of age that were creeping up on her. She was tired of feeling ill and exhausted with the pretence that her life was one social whirl of dates, parties and beauty salon appointments. It didn’t help that her mother rang once a week from America and recounted numerous stories of her perfect life and perfect man and perfect perfect perfection! It reinforced her low self-esteem despite her pretending to clamber back up the helter skelter slide of self-worth – Jen hated herself and her life. She felt like a failure as a woman, as a daughter, as a lover and as a sister.

*

Trevor drove his car around to the mechanics garage. He’d booked it in for its MOT at 2.30 and was desperate to get it sorted. He figured that he couldn’t attract the women without his wheels and the mechanic he’d spoken to had assured him that he’d have his motor back by the end of the day. He was meeting Sophie in the afternoon and his interview with her would be the ultimate way to pass the couple of hours while he waited for the car. He had been fleetingly disappointed when she’d declined his request to go to dinner, but he hadn’t wasted time looking for a replacement. He was going to get laid tonight one way or the other – and there were plenty of women listed on his mobile. He’d have someone sitting in Sophie’s empty chair at the restaurant before the afternoon was out.

*

I’ve emailed Adrian to say that I can’t go to the gig. I’m really gutted that I can’t go, but Tamsin needs me tonight. I can just see the slogan ‘missed opportunity’ written all over this, but friends have to come first, don’t they? I’m on my way to meet Trevor Malone and give him the interview he wants; I’m expecting him to be very cheeky and naughty with his questions, so I’m prepared….

*

Tamsin knew that Rob and Soph would scream at her, but she had to cancel them coming around tonight. She hated the fact that she was going to have to lie to them both, but in the light that she’d actually told them both that Pete was married, and his wife was now pregnant, she suspected that they’d both crucify her if they knew that she’d arranged to meet him tonight.

Just to talk.

Just for a while.

Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty - Seeing The 'I-Woulds' From The Trees?

So what am I going to do? I’ve got too many decisions to make now. I think I’ll email Trevor and agree to his interview, but I’ll decline the dinner invitation. If I suggest that we meet for coffee in the afternoon, maybe around 3, then I’ll have plenty of time to spread myself thinly and be there for Tam in the evening too. It does seem strange though, that he wants to interview me outside of office hours and include a lush restaurant meal, but then again, the guy obviously has ulterior motives – what with the endless supply of flowers! I’ve donated 4 bouquets this week to the London Hospital – they think I’m weird; giving away these gorgeous bouquets, but I don’t know the guys sending them, so they don’t mean anything to me! Ha – listen to me! Talk about blasé! Not bad for a girl who’s trying to stay single, eh?

The troublesome choice for me is what to do with Adrian. Don’t be fooled, I know exactly what I’d really love to do with Adrian, but we’re only on friendly terms, but just the thoughts of him get me all hot and bothered and tingly down below. I’d love to go to the gig with him too. It’s a long time since I’ve been to a London gig and I can just imagine the low ceilings and sweaty bodies and the condensation dripping down on me! These hearts-and-flowers and romantic meals are great, but it all feels fake! If I’m honest I’m finding it difficult to determine what is fake and what isn’t. Paul Ashkuri left me a voice mail apologising for his behaviour last week and asked if I’d see him again. As gorgeous as he is, I won’t risk another night like that. My nerves were shattered with every camera that flashed in my face and I couldn’t relax after that. Thankfully the newspapers have been divided on their story angle – some of them sided with Ashkuri, commenting that a magazine features writer who wanted to remain single wasn’t quite up to his L.A. standards anyway, but others had published the images where he was pushing me away. In fact, a couple of the red-tops have been really complimentary to me, running headlines like Arsehole Ashkuri and With Men Like These, Why Don’t We All Stay Single? – (which I actually thought was excellent!) Needless to say though, I won’t be seeing him again. I hear he’s flying back to L.A next month, so it won’t be like I’ll be bumping into him. Adrian was really nice about it all – I saw him the lift this morning and he gave me the sexiest wink and said that he thought I was too good for Ashkuri anyway.

I nearly melted….

And now I have to tell him that I can’t go to the gig. I’ll tell him in the morning.

Typical of my luck!

*

Rob made an effort to get into work extra early on Saturday morning as he hoped to make a quick getaway this evening, to call in and pick up some comedy DVD’s and some food, ready to take around to Tamsin’s later on, for this evening. He’d stopped at the bakery and had bought himself 2 huge bacon and egg baguettes, and was still tucking into the first one as he unlocked the garage. As usual he flicked the ‘on’ button to boil up some water for a hot and strong mug of tea as he checked his appointment book –

• Finish Don Fletchers exhaust
• Mrs Wheelers brakes + service
• Trevor Malone – 2.30 – MOT

With any luck he was sure he’d be away by 4 ‘o’clock.

*

I’m tired. It’s another scorching morning, but the difference today is that I don’t need to rush up and out for work. I can hear that the street is already busy, the rumble of wheelie bins being moved and the shuffle of flip flops on the move. It was extra hot night last night and I had trouble sleeping. The weather has been adorable but the nights are equally as hot – there’s no reprieve. Despite opening my bedroom window, the air was still and thick, which meant I lay naked, with my duvet kicked to my ankles, as I starfished on my bed. And still I was clammy and hot. And it got me thinking. About who I really would love to have there beside me. In the heat my skin was tingling, my breasts were puckered with goose pimples and my nipples were rock hard – despite the intense blanket of heat. I felt myself gasp for breath as I thought about Adrian and how I’m becoming rather obsessed with him. I’ve managed to keep a lid on it, satisfying myself with a quick ‘hello’ in the lift or ‘thanks’ when he hands me a brown Starbucks bag. But his sexy blue eyes and boyish good looks are printed on the inside of my eyelids and I can’t help but think of the way his shirt always seems slightly strained at the chest. It amuses me that he works for a publication as straight as Accountancy Age, or whatever one it is that he writes for, because he looks so damn hot and trendy. But in another way, I think I like that about him – it suggests a degree of balance and reliability – something that has been intensely lacking in every guy that I’ve been romantically linked with. I know that I’m doing The Most Dangerous Thing – which I always do – which is to build an imaginary personality and character to Adrian based on a few stray scraps of information. And this really is The Most Dangerous Thing – because no man has ever lived up to my expectations. I could feel my pulse beating in my neck and banging in my chest, the moody sounds of a growl as a car drove past in the thick night air, somehow making me more aware of my senses. At one point I was finding it difficult to breathe as I slid my hand across my chest, brushing my hard nipples, and then slowly pushing downward to that tingling spot between my legs.

I so would have loved to have Adrian there with me at that moment.

Boy, I could do that guy some serious damage…..

Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty One