City Boy visits The Shire pt 2

Disclaimer: If you're reading this and remotely fancy me, maybe you're contemplating asking me out, PLEASE STOP READING NOW - I promise not to write a blog about you when quoting this reference code: #DidntReadIt

City Boy visits The Shire pt 2

I began sweating and was quickly backing out the car, as he tried to mask his alarm at my sudden change in attitude. I reached behind me for the door handle and began to make my escape.

"I'm ever so sorry, I've got to go right now", I said, as I fled the car quicker than David Cameron post Brexit referendum.
.
"Don't forget your scarf!" City Boy called after me (My date, not David Cameron).  I contemplated leaving the scarf but reached back for it.

Safely inside my car, my heart began to settle, and my breathing slowed down. I quickly undid the top button on my jeans, followed by my belt. Finally, I could relax.

Yup, you guessed it. I had just narrowly avoided a scenario where I hotboxed the car with my fart while snogging City Boy for the first time.

My initial feeling of relief was not long-lived; I suddenly realised I couldn't "let go". Fuck. This was a code R19.7, and for those who aren't medically trained or have IBS, that's a CODE LAVA BROWN.

I began to drive my Honda Jazz out the car park like a formula one driver, I channelled my inner Lewis Hamilton and navigated my track with speed and precision.  So much so, I found myself directly behind City Boy who had left ahead of me. I knew we were driving the same course until my next right-hand-turn, all I could do was pray he wouldn't see me driving at speed behind him and think I was chasing him down!

I made my right-hand turn and was no longer behind City Boy. I was on the home straight; all I had to do was hold on. Then my phone rang, it was him.

Have you ever tried to answer the phone (hands-free) in a nonchalant manner when you're in a world of pain (and quite frankly fear)? Well let me tell you, it's tough.

"Hey, I thought you were showing me the way back to your place then", City Boy said with a fake laugh and a hopeful lilt to the end of his sentence.

"Oh, haha, oh no. *weird unexplained noise*, I choked out.

"Listen, I'd love to be getting in your pants right now but I just need to get back. City Boy drawled out. "But listen, let's do Tuesday night. Let me know timings."

"Yes, sounds delightful" is all I could manage in way of response.

I won't go into detail about what happened next but as I was running to my front door I'd forgotten I had undone my top button and belt, there was a scuffle with my jeans and any neighbours watching got an eye full.

But I made it.

Later, City Boy texted regarding his 'getting in your pants' comment, to say he wanted to return to The Shire for a 'nightcap'. I realised that he wasn't in it for the long adventure or an unexpected journey... he just wanted 'my precious.'

When I called him out on his 'fuck boy' behaviour and said "it's going to take more than a cheese and chicken toastie and a couple of cocktails to get me on my back", he went radio silent. As it turns out, it takes a toastie and cocktails to get me somewhere else.

As this blog highlights, I've got many flaws, and I'm quite literally a hobbit, but I deserve more than to be ghosted when I make it clear I'm not banging on the first date. I'm fully aware that dating can be full of disappointments, however, all it takes is to meet one more person and go on one more date for it all to be worthwhile.

"It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to." — J. R. R. Tolkien

Here's to being swept off to less "shitty" places.

________________________________________________________

Right, that story should put the nail in the coffin on my romantic life. Whatever should I write about now?