So I had an overnight guest stay last night - Dan*, freelance photographer, tall and lanky, nice hands - normally I don't like to bring guys back to my flat, I prefer to er, sleep at their place, so I can just leave and go home without any fuss in the morning. But last night I seemed to want to do things differently, so I brought Dan home with me LOL.
This morning Dan left without too much trouble (it wasn't too awkward actually) and I went about my normal Saturday stuff, then at about 12.30pm, Dan was back! Ack! At first I thought he'd left something behind, like his watch or wallet, but no. He was at my front door, with coffee and a paperbag of goodies from Pandoro Bakery. What a sweetie. He stayed for an hour or so before leaving, and I once again, went back to my Saturday routine.
Then, at about 6.30pm I get a phone call from, that's right, Dan! For fucks sake, this guy is like a boomerang LOL. He wanted to know if I'd like to meet up with him and a few of his friends for drinks at the pub. I said no (obviously, as I'm sitting here at 7.50pm typing this up).
And this is why I don't let guys stayover. Now he knows where I live! Crap.
*Not his real name
I am also home alone tonight on a saturday night in my slippers, trackies, eating domino's wedges pizza, watching C4. (Ohh Have you seen that new The Tutts video very cool?)
I haven't been able to check my email so sorry if you have emailed me and I haven't replied back yet. It's down and won't let me in.