Well at this moment in time I wouldn’t know whether it really was in his kiss. We haven’t kissed yet. No ladies I am not talking about my freaky dirty thoughts about Shemar Moore! (If you don’t know him then google him!).
On Saturday afternoon myself and Catherine walked to Wimbledon for a coffee – or so we thought! 90% of the blame would have to surround me as I did coax her into the bar under the false pretence of coffee and a catch up. However after staggering from the local second-hand bookshop with five (yes FIVE) books in tow, I was very thirsty and need of a cocktail refreshment. Boy am I glad we did.
At first it was a lovely relaxing summer evening, two friends with some amazingly tasty gin cocktails and plenty to catch up on. This was until . . .
The stag party rocked up!
Around 10 men strolled into the bar with no air of magic, instead it was just pure lushness! Tall hunky pieces of men flaunting themselves like delicious steaks ready to be grilled! Yum! Heaven = my seat with my wing woman at my side! ENTER THE HENS!
With a bag full of pegs and dressed as the not so strong-arm of the law these ladies were out in full man-eating force and clipping every man they could with a peg or two in not such inconspicuous places. After a few clocked on to what was going on the laughs rolled in thick and fast with a frenzy of pegging (Not that kind of pegging!) going on left, right and centre.
As the night progressed I found myself sitting on a leg that I can only say resembled a rock with hands attached to the body of this person that were warm and cuddly. From head to toe this specimen of man was made of veins and muscle with an appropriately fitting shirt and jeans that showed me all the right parts but not too much. After getting quite hot and bothered with my chosen bum rest for the night a dare was passed my way that I couldn’t shy away from. To peg or not to peg – well that was the question.
My mission if I chose to accept it was to walk into the bar and peg a random mans bottom (who the ladies of the hen chose!) without him noticing.
Well of course I accepted, however I was not going to walk into the bar and make a complete tit out of myself. So politely I sidled up to the bunch of cuties sitting at the table and asked him to stand up so I could peg his pert bottom. He obliged and in turn asked what he won for this honour! I took him outside and left him in the middle of the hen party whilst going back to my stone cushion.
After far too many cocktails it was my bad idea to buy a bottle of wine – yes I said it - BAD IDEA! Coming close to a slanging match with an incredibly rude female whose excuse was illness for rudeness (DUMBASS!) we decided it was time to call it a night and WALK HOME! On that LONG walk home we chatted away as best friends do and just had a ball. The afternoon/evening was great fun and I hope to do it more often! When either of us get the time.
The end to this story is a happy one – I think!
Before we made our stylish (of course – is there any other way!) exit I was beckoned to the bar by my rock pillow and not only did we share a quick drink but he asked for my number. Two minds here but the one that was single and ready for fun gave it up without a second thought.
Three days on and we are still on for our first date tomorrow.