I suppose I'd better tell you how this ends, hadn't I? How did we get from there to here? And although, we've already covered point 3 from yesterday, what the hell were points 1 and 2?
Fast-forward a couple of years, and I was feeling a lot better about myself. Good enough to smile at cute guys and strike up conversations at the bar.
There's a charity event each November that all the Canoe Club guys go to (actually, I realised yesterday that I didn't even explain that bit - they all went to uni together and met at the Canoe Club - they've remained friends ever since). As three of my close friends are ex-members of it, I know a lot of the crowd, and the annual event is a scream. November 2010, I went for the first time, and ran into a rather tasty guy at said bar. As we bantered, he told me he'd rowed across the Atlantic, and I laughingly said "yeah right". We flirted a lot, I teased him about his giant fib, and it turned into a great night. A great boost to the ego too, even though it wasn't anything serious that was going to go anywhere. He did have great biceps though - it turned out he really HAD rowed across the Atlantic earlier that year! ;o)
Last Spring, I ran into another cute Canoe Club guy at another event. We hit it off straight away, and again, it wasn't serious (he was moving to Australia just a month later), but we had a lot of fun killing some holiday we both had at the time. Unfortunately, there were a few toes trodden on (completely accidentally), so it was probably a good job he was leaving. It was fun while it lasted though.
There was also another cute Canoe Club guy in history, who shall Never Be Mentioned. All in all, I'd had my quota of Canoe Club boys in the last couple of years, and as much fun as they all are, I'd figured by last June that it was all too close-knit a group, too many potential toes to accidentally squash, and I should stay well away.
I held good to that and dated elsewhere, when I wasn't having fun learning to surf. In the Summer, there was James (he of the super-romantic dates). By the end of the Autumn, I'd been seeing Andy for a couple of months. He was fun, clever and a triathlete. Problem is, the spark just wasn't there. I'd given it a chance, I was about to move house, there was a lot going on, and I was coming to the conclusion that being single for a while would be good. I just had to do the deed and end it. Maybe in a few days time because, you know, I hate breaking up with people.
In need of a good night out, to take my mind off everything, I went to the annual charity bash again as a last minute decision. I let my hair down, had fun chatting and catching up, and over the shoulder of my friend who I was buying a drink for, I caught the eye of the guy from the coach. Yes, HIM. We smiled, and I went to get the drinks. A little while later, I caught his eye again - another smile. And it kept bloody happening.
I don't honestly remember who arrived at the bar first, or who spoke first, but we were soon chatting away animatedly. He was an accountant, like me. He liked being outdoors and extreme sports and travelling, like me. He didn't live in Bristol (booooooo), but did live quite nearby (yay!). I don't know how long we talked, with the carnage of the night going on around us, but at some point I reluctantly dragged myself away to go to the ladies. When I got back he wasn't there anymore, and I probably slumped a bit, but then returned to my friends. I think I'd been there about 2 mins, when a girl I know a little appeared and straight out said "you know, he really likes you but for all his confidence he won't make a move. He's on the dancefloor - pleeeeeease go find him".
Crap - I'm going to have to make a move? I think I muttered about not being drunk enough for that, and her response was a sly smile and this: "I'll get the drinks, you get to the dancefloor".
Deep breath, and a decision made. What was the worst that could happen? Nothing. Oh hell, did I feel self-conscious, but I moseyed on over to where they had congregated on the dancefloor. Ok, that's a lie, I allowed myself to be towed over to where they were. A long story short, we somehow got our shit together, and moves were made.
Before we parted, numbers were exchanged, and we said we'd like to see each other again. I then had a stressful weekend moving out of my flat and into Hannah's. Although we texted a few times in those days, by Wednesday I was starting to think it wouldn't go anywhere, as the text's were getting further apart. I was sitting on my (Hannah's) sofa in the evening sadly examining my phone, and noting no texts since the previous evening, and acknowledging to myself that it going to die a quiet little death. And at that exact instant, my phone rang in my hand. And it was him.
You know that moment of panic, when you're looking at the phone thinking "how soon can I reasonably answer this, without looking like I leapt on it in an undignified frenzy"? Yeah, that was me. We started chatting and it was easy. We chatted for nearly an hour, although the signal was crap and we had to call each other back 4 times (this should have been a sign of things to come - if things can go comically wrong for us, they usually do). Eventually we gave up, and he called my friend's landline instead. And eventually, he got round to asking me what he'd rung for. He said that he was extremely busy with work at the moment, and was currently house-sitting a load of holiday rentals for his employer for the next 10 days, so couldn't really leave them, but really wanted to see me. He said he knew it was a big step, and he'd understand if it was too much, but as soon as he stopped house-sitting he was off to Wales with friends for the weekend, and would I like to come too? Yikes!
I thought about it, and as I thought I realised that I was pretty sure I did want to go. In the interests of averting a possible disaster though, I took a deep breath and said I'd like to, but maybe we should meet up on the intervening weekend for a bit of a walk and a chat, and just see how we got on. And so it began. I went to see him, and we had a glorious stroll over late-Autumnal Exmoor. The sun shone, and a herd of deer even graced up with their presence. We were both a little shy, but the chat flowed easily, and I began to think that maybe the next weekend would be fun.
I just had one final thing to do before we went away the next weekend. I hadn't seen Andy for 2 weeks, and I was sort of hoping it would all just die away quietly on it's own, so when he texted and asked if I wanted to meet up for a drink the next week, I gently let him down, sure that I was making the right choice.
I think I did.
Back in the real world, I went for my run last night, gulped down beans-on-toast, and tore off up to the pub for the weekly surf club meet up. No alcohol for me, just a diet Coke or two.
Weigh in this week - final verdict was 13st 0.4lb. A little loss, on a week when I've eaten less than perfectly, is something I'm entirely happy with.
Same again this week - try and eat a little more moderately, and more running.
I'm looking forwards to a chilled out night in with Hannah tonight, and I think we're cooking something with roasted pumpkin in, maybe gnocchi. Then I'm looking forward to doing my long run in the daylight tomorrow for a change (another 55mins, same as last weekend) followed by a couple of hours in the office most likely. If I can, I'd really like to try and get to the running shop to sort my trainers out too. In the evening, Chris is coming up to Bristol for a party, which I believe I'm going to with him, and then we're planning on some surf action on Sunday, as I need to try my new board out!
Busy but fun.
And is it weird, that I'm almost enjoying my runs now? That is a little weird, right?
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