Girls just wanna have fun

kiki

Well wasn’t this just bloody fantastic, looking down at the menu trying to keep my face indifferent, I was inwardly cringing at the ridiculously extortionate prices currently staring me in the face.

I couldn’t believe my luck.

My first date in a whole year after divorcing my now ex-husband and I was going to look like a bloody cheap skate.

Back in the day this would never have been an issue it was the gentlemanly thing to do pay the bill and after gently protesting you would be more than happy to let the man take over and splash the cash, earning him brownie points in the process. Nowadays though thanks to all the bloody Gen-z’s in the world we were expected to do our fair share, yay for feminism!.

Pretending I was fussy and slowly perusing the page for something within price range, I decided upon the mussels on the starter menu to have as a main and fries on the side claiming I had a very small appetite.

What a load of crap I’d have to order a kebab when I got home at this rate. A nice curvaceous size twelve myself I didn’t scrape on food, I did daily workouts to keep my weight in order, but my god did I love food.

Giving me a small smile in response my date went on to order a starter, main and pudding all in quick succession then asked to see the wine list, well clearly someone did well for himself.

Currently sitting in a restaurant in the middle of Covent garden these prices weren’t cheap. Having decided to meet in London which was only an hour journey from my home in Brighton, we decided he would choose the location of the restaurant. Looking to the man in front of me though, I couldn’t help but wonder what had my sister been thinking. He was one of her husbands work friends and apparently he’d ‘be great for me’ I took some talking to but eventually she convinced me to at least go on one date with him.

He was an average height for a man maybe ’5.11 and well built which showed he spent quite a bit of time in the gym, but he had no substance to him. I’d already caught him looking at himself in the restaurant window quite a few times and I was beginning to feel restless.

Silently observing him while he carried on talking about himself I see my sister may as well have said you need a good fuck. Clearly that was all this man in front of me would be good for.

I’d been celibate ever since splitting from my husband and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss intimacy but this man in front of me just wasn’t going to cut it. Deciding it would be best to at least try and enjoy my evening, save wasting my train fare, I entertained his many stories with the oohs and ahhs in their rightful places.

Finally after what felt like an eternity the evening came to a close and as I asked the waiter for the bill my date finished his last story just as it arrived. When he snatched it from the table I let out a small smile, it seemed maybe I’d misjudged my date who clearly was trying to be chivalrous. Looking to me and giving a big smile he held the bill up and exclaimed ″£160 that’s only £80 each not a bad shout eh″.

Sitting there with my mouth gaping open I struggled to think of anything to say, this fat git had triple the amount I had and I didn’t touch a drop of his wine hoping to keep my cost down. The fucking cheek of it.

Standing on shaky legs I got out my purse and pulled £60 out and that was with a tip as well the tight fucking bastard, throwing it on the table I walked out without saying another word. The thing was I knew I came across very sweet and innocent but if you crossed me I had one heck of a temper that I quite often struggled to contain.

Practically running to the door and exiting into the summer air I took a deep breath, It was times like this I needed my sister to keep me in check. I so wanted to storm back in there and throw the jug of water in the bastards face, but I knew I’d only end up getting myself in trouble again and she wouldn’t be here to talk me out of it.

Deciding a call would be best, I pulled my phone out and made my way to nearest underground. After two rings she answered and not even giving her a moment to speak I started

″You fucking bitch! What the hell were you thinking sending me on a date with that narcissist I almost threw a drink in his face″, breathing heavily down the phone after finishing my sentence I could hear her chuckling.

This was the thing about my sister, most of the situations I found myself in she found highly amusing, usually using it as ‘material’ to relay as jokes to all of her friends.

Once she’d finally finished catching her breathe and re-telling the story to her husband who happened to have the biggest mouth in the south she replied,

″I didn’t say you had to marry the guy Kiki, I just thought you would get a good seeing to, apparently he’s a freak in the sheets or at least that’s what he tells all the boys at work″.

″I bet he fucking does the lying prick″. Rolling my eyes at my sisters gullible nature I carried on relaying everything that had happened throughout the meal and before I knew it my stop was next.

″Listen im gonna have to go Beth it’s me next and I need to concentrate i″ll never find my way otherwise″.

Hanging up the phone I began gathering my stuff to exit the underground, going into London on my own was one of the most daring things I had ever done. Sad and pathetic I know but I’d always been a very anxious traveller, the only time I ever left normally was with my friends or my ex-husband never on my own. Now as I made my way over to Victoria station ready to take the next train home my nerves were in full swing.

Feeling a tap on my shoulder I turned around to look into the eyes of a mid-thirties gentleman with a few friends loitering closely behind, rolling my eyes before speaking I found myself not in the mood to entertain any ‘come on’s’ this evening. Before his mouth even opened I started

″listen here buddy I’m really not in the fucking mood OK! Ive had a really long evening and I’m just trying to get my train home″, as he stood there open mouthed looking at me I felt more clarification was needed

″NOT INTERESTED OK″ adding some hand signals along with my words to make absolutely sure he got it he finally spoke,

″Um OK sure, but I just wanted to tell you, your dress is tucked into your knickers″, as my face became so hot I thought I might pass out he leaned in, ″Just thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do, sorry to bother you″, when he turned back round to leave I felt behind me and of course found one of my big bum cheeks fully on display. I’d travelled all the way from Covent garden with a whole cheek on show. What an absolute twat!.

Whipping my dress out quickly i tried to shrink myself inward as much as possible to save any more embarrassment. Finally the door to the train opened and I practically ran the length of it trying to find a seat as far away from the men as I could get.

When what felt like the longest journey of my life finally came to a close, I exited in pursuit of my now current home for the time being feeling thoroughly dejected.

What a fucking night, when my husband and I parted ways it wasn’t as amicable as I would have liked and being the tight bastard he was, he wanted to fight for full rights to our home, claiming he’d made all the payments so why shouldn’t he?.

Which was technically true but what the bastard forgot to add was that I’d paid £30,000 for the deposit, solicitors fees and furnished the place which was why I had been somewhat lacking in funds.

Working at the Hilton Hotel along Brighton seafront as a chambermaid didn’t exactly bring in the big bucks, but it wasn’t forever just until my writing took off.

I’d always enjoyed writing, but my books had never been picked up so deciding to move onto writing a blog for the newly divorced lady seemed liked a good idea and so far it was taking off really well. If things carried on I’d be able to give up the hotel job pretty soon and finally start living.

Coming to my flat not far from Brighton seafront I entered the building and decided to take the stairs for a change rather than get stuck in the lift with Jerry from the down the hall who always seemed to enter the lift whenever I did the bloody stalker.

Having found an ad for a flat share in this rather posh building I couldn’t believe the price, it was more than affordable for me and was within reach to everything I needed.

There was just one problem and as I walked through the door of the shared apartment that reason was currently staring me in the face. Julius’s bum was taking a good bashing as I walked the length of the lounge and bid the gentlemen goodnight. Carrying on to my bedroom I shut the door and flopped down on my bed, rolling the cushion up to my ears, attempting to cover the moans coming through the walls as was my standard Julius date night ritual.

My lovely room mate and also owner of the flat was so beautiful inside and out but he didn’t give two shits about what he got up to in the middle of our shared lounge. One would compare him as a cross between Tyson fury and Alan Carr. He had the most gorgeous personality (modest despite the wealth) and was one of the funniest people I had ever met. He was also built like a brick shit house standing at 6′.3 and a little on the chunky side with big muscles, had he not have been as gay as they came I would have had a go myself.

How the fuck did i end up like this? thinking back on my life I wondered how I’d become a 28 year old divorcee when I thought I’d had it all planned out. All of my closest friends had children and I had seen that as the next step for myself but finding my husband balls deep inside his secretary had never been part of my plans. When I was told it was ‘my own doing’ and that I hadn’t been paying him the attention he deserved (how cliché) I’d decided to give things another go like the fool I was, however after a good bollocking from my friends and some realism thrown my way with the affair not ending I’d decided to part ways.

Now I found myself in a small bedroom, flat sharing with my gayer than gay housemate and another housemate equally as divorced as myself, maybe even a tad more depressed if that were possible, FML!!!.

Deciding to have one night of pity, I cried myself to sleep making a promise of more optimistic thoughts tomorrow, I just needed this one night.

As my eyes finally closed and my sniffles ran out my eyes drifted shut with the feeling of despair following closely in pursuit.