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fightingthecageFurther to previous entry, I can report that The Crush is being a total sweetheart so I no longer feel the need to smite him into oblivion. Which is nice. In many ways. :D!
And I realise I am making many entries with reference to this dude and haven't actually said much about him. So I will rectify that now.
His name is Steve. He's thirty-six. He's ex-RAF (Royal Air Force) and a mad cyclist who doesn't even own a car because he loves cycling everywhere so much. And he swims and/or goes to the gym five times a week - I mention all this to establish why its so easy to fancy the pants off him. He's got a body like something Michaelangelo would have carved. Luckily, the face matches up to it. He's very dark - big brown eyes and very dark hair, which has a cute patch of white right at the front, just to the right of centre. Hence his nickname, which is 'Flash.'
And he's so typically bloody male its unreal. He's the strong silent type and its nearly impossible to tell what he thinks most of the time, although if you ask him he'll generally spill. He's sarcastic and can be way bitchy, very smart, over-critical about some things and has a tendency towards cyniscm which is one of the reasons I like him because its always fun to goad cynical types with my unending optimism. Makes for good 'discussions' about things. But for all the sarcasm and quiet exterior, he's delightfully cuddly when we're on our own. He doesn't roll over and start snoring after sex (though he does have the ability to sleep for hours. I mean, I swear its unnatural for people to be able to sleep that much but all of my mates blokes have been the same way. Maybe men need more than women? Or are just lazier?), in fact, he's far more comfortable than I am with falling asleep all wrapped round each other. I find it almost impossible to sleep like that but he has no problem at all. Bizarre.
Anyway, thats the basics on him. I had to say something about him, simply because the situation is worrying me. I mentioned in my last post that I was feeling quite ill last week. Every time I ate something (and I had to force myself to) I'd want to puke for about three hours afterwards - I just put it down to all the drinking of the last few months and giving up smoking and getting really really pissed the Friday night before. I didn't consider it might have anything to do with Steve. But then I left his place on Saturday with a big grin on my face and haven't had a problem since. The idea that my health could be tied up with the way things go with him worries me, because its not a good thing. So, there it is. Don't quite know what to do about it of course. And maybe it isn't anything to do with him really, maybe I just needed that week to recover and chill out a bit. Or maybe I just needed to get laid. Will keep an eye on it anyway.
All that aside, its my birthday on Thursday. Woe. I will be twenty eight, so there will probably be a depressive entry on getting old at some point. Which will be followed by one on the antics of the celebrations on the upcoming Friday night, wherein I will certainly be acting like an eighteen year old. :D!
