Carnival Encounter

Saturday just gone was Carnival Day in Shifnal, and it was a brilliant day, warm and sometimes sunny, lots of floats and people dressed up, lots of live music and people happy and smiling. Even the cat weeing on the top I was intending to wear didn't dampen my enthusiasm (though it soaked the top). I didn't wear it, btw...

Off I went for a day of drinking in beer gardens, with Sue and her boyfriend and kids, and Heather, and various people we met on the way.

About 5pm, Heather and me were both hungry, and being as we are veggie and the main food on offer in the pub where we were was a hog roast, we decided to nip to the Kebab Ye for a veggieburger. But as we got in, Heather muttered, 'nothing here for us,' and pushed me out.

So we walked two frontages down to the chippie. 'They've got veggieburgers here,' I said.

'But I like the ones from the Kebab Ye,' moaned Heather.

<puzzled face> 'But you said they didn't have any!'

'That's because STEVE'S IN THERE!'

Oooooooh..... Well that explains it then. Nothing is guaranteed to put a downer on my mood like meeting the abusive stalker ex.....

We decided to go into the Co-Op opposite and wait for him to go. Five minutes of lurking and peeking later, and Heather declared the coast clear. Then as we walked across the road.....

'Yikes!' I whisper-shrieked, followed by, 'walk-on, walk-on, walk-on, he's outside, he's outside'

So we tried to unobtrusively walk away and behind the row of shops, then sneak in from behind, up an alley. Once installed, Heather sat me on a seat facing away from the window, hidden from outside by the advertising banner.

We were waiting for our burgers when a Horrifically Drunk man came in. Slurring his words, stumbling about all sweaty and offensive, and smelling like somebody had sicked in a urinal.

'Hey, love, him outside says he used to go out with you.'

Well, of course, 'him outside' was Steve.

'Nope, never seen him before in my life.'

And off stumbled Horrific Drunk.

Then back he stumbled again, this time sitting down next to a distinctly unimpressed Heather.

'He says he went out with you for five and a half years.'

'Well he's lying then.'

'Why's he lying?'

I have no idea, you'll have to take it up with him.'

At this point Steve appeared in the doorway going, 'why are you saying that Karen? Why are you saying that.'

'My name's not even Karen. I don't know you, you are a stranger.'

'Yes you do'

'No I don't. Do you know him Heather?'

She shook her head and said, 'we're trying to eat, please go away.' By this time the men behind the counter were getting involved too. 'Come on lads, move it on now.' So off they went.

As we sat eating, Heather was giving me a running commentary.

'They're still there. They're looking in, don't look!' (Not that I was likely to look AT ALL) Then, 'oh my god,  Horrific Drunk is kissing Steve - ON THE LIPS... Oh my god, he's SO gay.... Steve's really getting more than he bargained for there.... UGH!'

So of course, we then had the discussion about how I'd heard that Steve has done blow jobs for money in Telford, and how now he's back on heroin properly, without even any methadone to fall back on (unless he's sought help since I last spoke to him, which it didn't look like), there's every possibility he now sells more than blow jobs, and possibly always did.

Eventually they went away, 'in the direction of yours and my houses...' said Heather.

But no damage was done. I did feel a bit wobbly just from having that bit of interaction, but hey, that's what stalkers do and that's what dry white wine is perfect medicine for. We went on to have a brilliant night, watched Fruit Machine at the Railway, danced until I had blisters even UNDER my feet, staggered home and wasn't even too hungover the next day.

Looking back, the only thing that bothered me was WHY he still appeared in my life in the first place? I firmly believe that we get the same things happening to us until we learn, and I for sure have learned I don't want him and he is poison, and yet here he was again. It also bothered me that even KNOWING he would most likely be about, in fact having spoken about this with various people beforehand (and wanting to go to the Railway because of this - he wouldn't pay the £5 to get in), I'd then been taken completely by surprise when he did pop up.

On the good side, this time and last time we've seen him out, I've not been the one who noticed him first. I'm obviously not on the lookout for him or worrying about him, even subconsciously. But on the bad side, did him reappearing mean there's still something I haven't learned that I'm missing out on? Or, even more worryingly, could it be true that we are destined to be together? (Yes, I know, I do sometimes overthink to a ludicrous extent: 'I can't stand the bloke and he gives me the willies, but I'll always love him in a way and maybe we are meant to be together'!!!!!)

Then today, I read this on emmanueldagher.com (which is a really good website if it is the sort of thing you are into, which I am):

When this much love and light manifest all at once, it can really rock us to the core. It can feel very confusing because a lot of past emotions and challenging situations we thought we had taken care of come right back up in front of our beautiful faces seeming more present than ever. This confusion also comes up because the mind is being nudged to expand out of the limitations it had once created for itself. 

This actually happens to give us the opportunity to ‘react’ in a different way than we may have in the past. If we find ourselves still reacting in the same or a similar way as we did before, then it means there’s still quite a bit of healing for us to do especially around strengthening our letting-go muscles. 

On the other side of this downpour of energies, many of us are becoming more mindful by catching ourselves in the act as we realize that past emotions and situations coming back up are just here to show us how far we’ve already come. With this state of non-reactive mind it becomes much easier not to overreact as we once used to, because we are no longer identifying ourselves with whatever it was that caused us so much anger in the first place. 

Now I feel so much better - because I would never have reacted in that way to him before, I would have felt an obligation to treat him with the courtesy I treat everyone else. And then I would have felt bad, because he would have used anything nice I did against me, and at the very least would have tried to use it as an invitation to initiate some further interaction. As it was, he wasn't able to do that. Anything he could have said or done was deflected by the constant, 'I don't know you.'

It's not even a lie. I DO know him, as well as anyone can. But I don't know the real him, because everything about him, even the evil, is a lie. He doesn't have a genuine bone in his body. It's impossible to know him and he will now always be a stranger to me.

He remains a threat to my well-being when I see him. But he's not in my head, he's not in my thoughts, he's not in my heart. He's just in my blog.

THAT'S how far I've come.

Circus Boy 11 - In Which I Text Him

So still in a happy little bubble, that Saturday I went off for a pub lunch with the girls and their kids. And my ex-husband and his family (including my son). We all get on well.

So well, in fact, that Heather and I were still sitting there drinking when the evening drinkers arrived - including P_ and her family, who hadn't been able to come to lunch because they were geocaching or orienteering or trekking to Alaska or something equally healthy and energetic. They certainly deserved their drinks. I'm not sure I deserved the ones I continued to consume.

I don't actually remember getting home that night. What I do remember is waking up on the sofa in the early hours of the morning, and SHAMEFULLY deciding that since Circus Boy was always going on about how I never text him or call him, now would be the PERFECT time to make him happy by texting him.

Sometimes I look back on the days when we didn't have mobile phones with nostalgia and fondness. This is one of those times. In the 80s, we had to use pagers to make complete drunken arses of ourselves, and that took an amount of dedication that was not usually possible when half-bladdered, half-hungover.

Then I went to bed, waiting for a reply, but, goodness knows how, I fell asleep whilst waiting.

Fast-forward to Sunday morning. I get up in time to listen to The Archers (one mustn't let a hangover get in the way of an Ambridge catch-up), and am suddenly overcome with utter FURY. That BARSTARD hasn't bothered to text back! Now, believe me, I am fully aware of all the reasons why this fury is irrational. I'd doubtless texted after he was in bed. He wouldn't yet be up. I'd not particularly texted anything that needed an urgent reply. But this is all way after the fact, when neither you nor I are in the grip of a frenzied anger.

Better people than me would have let it go anyway, and LUCKY THEM, for they now wouldn't feel wracked with guilt at their behaviour. Not me. I fired off not one, but several utterly arsey texts, about how DARE he say I never text him, because what was the point when he wasn't going to text me back, and he is a complete LOSER anyway, and I don't even LIKE him.

Then my phone rang. It was him. For like one second I was a bit apprehensive, but lucky old me, the fury took over again and I picked up. 'WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?'

The rest of the phone call went pretty much along those lines. Give Circus Boy his due, he was way nicer than I deserved, didn't get angry at me, seemed genuinely puzzled about what was going on (as well he might be!), and was trying to placate me. Even though I told him he was unable to follow through on ANYTHING, right down to not even getting his hair cut when he said he was going to. Even when I told him I wasn't emotionally unavailable, but that he was a gameplayer and I was sick of it. Even when I told him I never, EVER wanted to see his sorry face again. EVER. And then he came out with the most mortifying line perhaps ever spoken to me.

'I think maybe you were right. Maybe I shouldn't have slept with you the other night. You seem to have.... changed.'

Wind. Out. Of. Sails.

'Sorry,' I said, in a wee small voice. 'I think maybe you are right.' And in my head I could see visions of all those shags that we could have had flying away on little angel wings. 'You must hate me, I have behaved really badly, it's YOU who must never want to see ME again, I've gone completely loopy haven't I?'

'Yes. But that's ok. I do really like you, and I do want to see you again... But when you've calmed down a bit maybe....'

Well, yes. So we said goodbye and I slid under my crocheted hangover blanket and waited for the sofa to eat me.

My son got home later on and I told him what had happened. He was horrified. 'It's ALL YOUR FAULT!!!' And it was.

Which makes the aftermath even odder.

An the Monday morning, I woke up feeling a bit odd. When I went to get out of bed, I couldn't feel my left leg properly, it sort of wasn't under my control. Ditto with my arm. I realised this when I tried to touch my face, because as I looked in the mirror, I could see the left side of my face was swollen - but not as swollen as it felt.

I could hardly make it down the stairs - had to go two feet to one step. Opening the living room door really hurt and it was like I was trying to remote control my arm very poorly.

In my head I was terrified I'd had a stroke, but I had to get Son off to school, and I was even considering going in to work - but realised there was no way. I phoned in sick and got a GP appointment, thinking she would just reassure me and then I'd get off to work. But she didn't - she referred me up to the hospital, and even offered an ambulance to take me there! Well, no way - I got a taxi, and two nurses from the Stroke Unit were waiting for me. They examined me and told me I would probably need to be admitted overnight. for various tests and scans. Now, I was scared, but not THAT scared.

'But I CAN'T! I've got a son, and my Dad is dying and my Mum has dementia, and I don't have time for this, there's no-one else to take mum visiting him, and he could die at any time, and I need to be there and...' I was crying by this time, and one of the doctors was watching from the desk. A short time after this he came over.

He said I could choose to stay and have all the tests if I wanted, or - and he wasn't against this at all, because my obs were fine and I wasn't in pain, didn't have a headache or any other signs of brain compression - I could just go. There are some funny things that happen, he said, neurological illnesses that seem to come out of nowhere and act a bit oddly and, like my migraines, can happen at times of stress - and it sounded as though I was under stress. I nodded, I definitely was under stress, and so I was only too happy to go home. He said to rest and to try not to worry, because he had never in his career heard someone who had had a stroke begging to be allowed to go home, because normally they felt really rough, so he was 99 per cent sure I was fine. But to come back if I got worse at all.

So off I went. In my head, I had translated what he said as meaning I'd had a weird sort of migraine. I didn't actually feel any better, but I didn't feel worse either, so when I got home I just lazed about on the sofa feeling a bit cruddy.

Shortly after Son got back from school, someone knocked at the door. I got off the sofa, all swollen face, cried off make-up and greasy hair in a ponytail (because I hadn't felt like washing it when I thought I'd had a stroke). It was Circus Boy, standing a short way away from the door, with his friend from The Night When I Sided With His Mother.

'I thought I'd come and see if you'd calmed down,' he said, trying and failing to not show how nearly he had yelled out, 'WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE!'

'Is that why you have moral support, ' I said, gesturing to his mate.

'Well, I wasn't sure what mood you'd be in.'

They came inside and stayed for a couple of hours chatting, and Son was VERY excited to see Circus Boy, because he really likes him. And Circus Boy was quite keen to show off his new haircut. To which the only response could be for me to apologise yet again. Because it doesn't matter how much a person says you are forgiven if you can't forgive yourself. Then off they went 'to look for beer'.

Circus Boy was DJing on the next Saturday, and he was wanting me to go and see him - now as it happens, a couple of girls from work were going out with their friends that Saturday in that town, so I said I'd probably go if they were up for meeting there. So when he left on the Monday night, the plan was we would probably meet up on the Saturday.

Five hours after Circus Boy left, my Dad died and all plans were off.

And I know he is young, and I know he meant well, but when he rang about the Saturday and I explained, I wasn't impressed when he said, 'come out anyway, celebrate your Dad's life.' This was only four days after his death, I wasn't finished grieving the loss of him.

Now by all rights this should have completely been the end of it, and it was nearly the last I've heard of Circus Boy, but there is one more incident that has had me laughing whenever I think of it, that perfectly sums up all there is to know about Circus Boy, all in one simple telephone conversation.

But it deserves a post all of its own... ;-)

Circus Boy 7 - Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

So you left me on a lovely Saturday morning, waiting for Circus Boy to get back here on the train so we oculd go for our walk. And waiting. And waiting. >:-(

So eventually, about 4.30, I phoned and asked if we were still doing anything today or had he changed his mind?

'Oh, no, of course we're doing something! I just need to finish up a few things here and then get to the station, and... yeah, the train gets in at 8, come and meet me at the station.'

Well I was a bit miffed that he'd have happily let me hang around all day waiting for him, but the thought of an evening out was cheering me up fast, cos I'd been playing Jimi Hendrix and it had me in the mood for a nice psychedelic outfit - and I had just the one in my wardrobe, and some fab glitter platforms to go with them. And HOURS to get ready.

So that's what I did, and five to eight saw me walking down the high street in a bit of a happy daze, so much so that I almost walked past S_ and her partner - they were out for a night out and so I stopped and chatted to them for a while. Then my phone went and it was Circus Boy at the station and where was I? I said I was nearly there, so he said he'd come and meet me. Of course, he was on his unicycle. Might have guessed really, except he must have taken it out the night before - who on earth takes their unicycle clubbing? But the minute I saw him, I felt really happy, especially when he waved from down the road and cycled over to give me a big hug.

He also had his juggling kit with him, so we walked over to his house to drop everything off. His Mum was there, it was the first time I'd met her, and I was a little bit apprehensive, but she didn't immediately screech at the top of her voice, 'OH MY GOD WOMAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY LITTLE BOY, YOU ARE ALMOST AS OLD AS ME YOU HARLOT!' so that was a bonus. And I think we bonded over discussion of washing powders and the problems of not having a washing line as we hung out the laundry, because I like to be helpful, especially when I know it will earn me brownie points with parents. Then she went in to watch the Olympics, and we sat outside, me sipping orange juice and Circus Boy getting stoned.

'So, shall we go for that walk then?'

WHAAAAAAAAT!!!! Had my great clonking GLITTER platform boots suddenly been rendered invisible? But undeterred I went along with it - as far as the edge of town, when impending darkness and potential dirt tracks combined to have me stumble over. Luckily he caught me, and then, finally, he decided to change plans. Great, I thought, images of crisp glasses of dry white wine forming in my head. But they don't have many of those at the children's playground.

Yup, that is where he took me. Joey Essex would be proud. Though to be honest, it wasn't that bad. It was a warm night, and watching him on the overhead bars was quite entertaining. Then we sat on the swings and talked for ages, he was telling me about how he'd been bullied as a child; various tales of horror involving exes who abandoned him abroad, broke his heart or went mental on him; and how he wants to set up a different society, where money doesn't matter.

Eventually it started to get a bit cold, so he said did I want to go home? I said I thought it would be a shame to not pop into a pub beforehand, and it was at this point that he confessed he had no money. Well what do you know, all my suspicions are coming true. So I said why didn't we pop into a pub on the way home anyway, cos I had some money.

He said yes, and then became very animated about the owner of one of the locals, saying he wanted to talk to her about maybe doing some fire there some time. Now this pub is my pub of choice, and I am in there a lot, with my friends, lots of whom know the bar staff and the owner quite well, so they know me a bit too, but I didn't tell Circus Boy this - not that he gave me a chance really.

So we walked in and the lassie behind the bar immediately said to me, 'aaah, I thought we'd see you in here this weekend, with your boy being away!' (she knew cos this was where I'd come for lunch the day before). Surprisingly, Circus Boy was visibly rattled. 'Do you know R_ then?' he asked, naming the owner.

'Sort of - she wouldn't know my name or anything.'

Then I turned around and M_ , another friend, was right behind me, so we started to chat, I introduced Circus Boy, and then, and this is really odd, he started BACKING AWAY. So after all the times I'd spent talking to his mates and people he vaguely knows, the minute I chat to someone - whilst including him in the conversation - he makes it clear he's not happy, and wants out. Which M_ obviously noticed, so we brought the conversation to a close.

We went outside at the back so Circus Boy could smoke, and we'd not been there long when C_ and D_ came over. These turned out to be people Circus Boy sort of knew - but he then proceeded to spend the rest of the night with them!

The good bit being that C_ was quite old and had lots of money on him and was happy to pay for the drinks (although I did buy a round cos otherwise I'd have felt like a right scrounger). He was also dead set on going to the dive bar/disco where I'd met Circus Boy, so off we trotted. By this time Circus Boy was trollied, and was being very affectionate. He was also finding everything I said hilariously funny, even when it really wasn't, but of course I was loving that.

When we got to the bar/disco, S_ was already there with her partner, so we danced and chatted with them for a bit. This was actually the highlight of the evening, cos we were really getting on at this point, talking and daft dancing. At one point when I was dancing and Circus Boy was talking to C_ and D_, some younger trendy girls came over to me and said, 'are you two together?' pointing to Circus Boy. Bloody hell, I thought, they want to know if he's my son and if it is ok to cop off with him or something. But no. When I said I really didn't know, it was early days, they said, 'oh, you should be, you look really good together,' and I was unreasonably chuffed.

Then someone wandered off with Circus Boy's hat (he often wears this bowler hat), and he got really stressed about it, so we went looking for it. We then heard a rumour that someone was catching a taxi with it, so we headed outside, and for a horrible moment I thought he was going to rip the bloke's head off - but he luckily didn't, and sufficiently calmed we went back inside.

And then he disappeared. One minute he was there and we were chatting with everyone, the next minute he'd gone. Not to worry, I thought he'd gone to the loo or something. but he didn't come back. I was dancing with S_ for ages, but then the evening was starting to wind down, and there was still no sign of him, so I went for a quick scout around. Still nothing. So even though he'd left his jacket behind, he must have left. I decided to knock it on the head, and so I picked up his jacket and went out the back exit. I was just crossing the beer garden when I heard someone shouting, 'Karen!'

It was Circus Boy, he'd been huddled in a corner with C_ and D_ in the shadows of a parasol, so I'd missed him when I'd been looking. Well, I was very annoyed.

'Where the bloody hell have you been?' I shouted.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean I've been on my own in there for well over half an hour, no idea where you were, I thought you'd gone home!'

'Hey, hey, what's this about?? It's not like we're together or anything...'

'NOT LIKE WE'RE TOGETHER!!!! That's nothing to do with it! You didn't say anything before you buggered off, you didn't have the courtesy to mention you were out here, it's nothing to do with whether we're TOGETHER or not!'

'We are nothing to eachother, we don't owe eachother anything....'

'Are you not listening or something?? I'd be annoyed at ANYONE who had done that, just wandering off and leaving me on my own.'

'You weren't on your own, you were with your friends'

'EXACTLY!!! So if you'd said you were going outside I wouldn't have cared and would have come to find you when they left. Do you not get that??' Because he really didn't seem to. In fact he was still bleating on when S_ and her partner came over to say goodnight. Then looked embarrassed cos we were so obviously arguing/entertaining the watching beer garden, and off they went.

But that interruption had sort of cooled things down, and what with that and C_ constantly going on 'don't argue, don't argue', I kind of decided it wasn't worth it so I said I was off home too, and Circus Boy came with me. Then C_ and D_ wanted to come home with us, but I didn't really want two men I didn't know coming to my house, so we went to Circus Boy's.

They all sat around talking shit, and I sat there listening to them and drinking more wine. About 3am I nipped up to the toilet, and as I came out his mum was waiting for me, looking knackered and a bit upset.

'Oh God, I'm really sorry,' I said, 'I didn't mean to wake you up.'

'No, it's not you, it's them, they've got really loud voices and they keep laughing so loudly. Do you think I should say something?'

'Yes, definitely! It's your house, they should turn it down - or chuck us all out if you want.'

'No, no, you can stay, but I really don't want anyone else here..... Yes, I'll go down.'

So we did. She wasn't nasty about it at all, just told Circus Boy that he needed to wrap the evening up, that is was late and time for people to go to their own homes. Well, Circus Boy started kicking off :-O  Honestly, it was a bit like watching a toddler temper tantrum, all 'you never let me have any fun', 'am I not allowed to have friends around to my own house?', 'no, I'm not going to, what are you going to do about it' etc.

Well, I'd had enough of this rubbish.

'Circus Boy, what the hell do you think you're playing at?'

'Leave him Karen, don't upset him, I'll talk to him tomorrow, ' said his meek little Mum. Well bollocks to that. I've been abused for six years, I'm not scared of a beating.

'Don't upset him?? He needs to be upset! I know he's had a hard time,' here she looked at me a bit funny, and I'm not sure if she was wondering what I meant or was surprised I knew, 'but that doesn't mean he should be allowed to get away with treating you like this.' Then I turned to him, 'the way you talk to your mother is totally unacceptable, it's HER house and so it's HER rules, now, party's over and it's time to let her get some sleep, and don't even bother telling me what you think of me cos I don't care!'

'Yes, Circus Boy, it's time for your friends to go now. Come on, off you go.' And Mum, newly emboldened by my little speech, put the other two out. Then off she went to bed.

Circus Boy was a bit miffed for a bit, but then we were chatting fine again until he started talking about his lifestyle and how he wanted to make a go of his DJing, fire, and general circusnessish. I admit, I should probably have kept my mouth shut, but by this point all the doubts I'd had were very near the surface, especially with the way his Mum had seemed a bit scared of him. So I said,'yeah, but thing is you can only do all that stuff because you have parents who support you.'

'They don't support me, they think I should get a proper job.'

'I don't mean like that. I mean like now, you live here, and it's free, so you can save for a van or whatever. And when you are off abroad or living away anywhere, you always know they are here, and they can bail you out any time. You don't realise how privileged you are - most poeple can't rely on parents like that because they just wouldn't have the money to be able to help however much they might want to, whereas for you however bad things might get it really is like the Pulp song says, If you call your Dad you can stop it all.'

This predictably went down like a razor blade stew. But somehow we got past even that, and eventually, pretty much as the sun was rising, we went to bed. And had sex. Twice. But.....

I felt like he was doing it to - I don't exactly know how to explain it - to dominate me. Not in a 50 Shades way, but just, well, subtly. Like I say, I can't exactly explain it.

Then after waking me out of a sleep for round two, he FELL ASLEEP mid-shag!!! O.M.G! Because then you are left with a conundrum. Should you carry on and hope he wakes up? Or just jump off and give it up as a bad job? I went for the latter, cos I was bloody tired, it must have been about 8am by that time.

I snoozed for a bit then realised I'd better get up if I wanted to be home for The Archers. Up I got, and dressed, and as I was putting on my boots Circus Boy stirred. In an evil parody of the first time, he said, 'what are you doing?'

'I'm going, I need to get some sleep.'

'You've just been asleep, ' he grumped, turning over to face the wall.

I picked up my extensions and flounced out of the room, completely ineffectually.

Downstairs I sat and chatted with his Mum again. Without the extensions and pristine make-up, and with the addition of a stonking hangover I must by now have looked older than her even if I was younger. We talked about how she shouldn't let him walk all over her. She said he would be fine when he sobered up, and that it was often impossible to get any sense out of him when he was off his head. So after a cup of tea, I wandered off home.

Later that afternoon, I got a text from Circus Boy. This I was NOT expecting. I read it, it said 'U left ur inhaler here'. Just that. No kisses, no calling me lovely, or wishing me lots of love or anything. Very stark, but no worse than I'd expected. But what I realised, with a mounting sense of horror, was that he probably thought I'd left it there deliberately so that I'd have to go and get it, thus giving me an excuse to see him. After all, I could die without it.

Well, sometimes there are things more important than death by bronchoconstriction, and pride is one of them. I texted back, 'that's ok, got loads of them, don't need it xx' I added the kisses because that is my custom, and I was showing I am the bigger person. Oh well, repeat prescription first thing Monday it is.

So that's the end of me and Circus Boy, at least that's what I thought at the time. For a short time, I was right....

And then I wasn't [To Be Continued]

Circus Boy 5 - Light My Fire

About 6.30 Thursday morning I decided that as I wasn't going to get much sleep anyway, I might as well get up, and I was soon followed downstairs by Son, who was badgering me to wake up Circus Boy cos he wanted to talk to him. So about 8.30 I did, with tea and toast cos I am nice like that. This was when the bed broke (really), and Circus Boy was very apologetic despite it not having been him who had broken it - except that he probably was quite a lot to do with it, and it was quite old. Oh, and something I really like about him is that every time he's stayed at mine, without fail he has made the bed, even putting the cushions all back on it. I know this sounds mad, but I'm not used to it. And he swills out his tea cup and leaves it to drain. Even though I have a dishwasher.

There was about half an hour before I had to leave, and Circus Boy was being really kind to Son, playing with him, drawing eyes on his hands (as you do), showing him some tricks and both of them were trying to persuade me not to go to work - but I was not to be persuaded cos I love my work and I am actually very conscientious. But I was very tempted. Then he asked me if I could go to open mic night with him that evening at a local pub. Initially I said no, cos I didn't have a babysitter and Son didn't want to go to his Dad's cos he was going on holiday with him on Friday morning (so it would have made sense for him to go there, but hey, that's kids...). Then Son suggested Heather - but it was such short notice. So I said I would phone her and I would come if she could babysit. Eventually Circus Boy cycled off, and I set off to drop Son at holiday club. As we turned the corner, I had a little smile to myself cos all the bus queue were watching Circus Boy unicycling down the road. The novelty of it never wore off for me.

Got to work, and first thing to do was phone Heather (priorities, see). The little star said of course she would babysit, and so once that was sorted I got down to the hard work of having a cup of tea made by the residence staff. (I should point out that I do actually work quite hard, but the holidays are a somewhat slower pace as lots of the residents go to stay with their parents - which is lucky or I may well have died of exhaustion that Thursday and never made it to open mic night).

That evening, after a bit of a rush visit to take my Mum to see my Dad in hospital, and after repairing the bed with gaffa tape, I was getting ready when Heather arrived. Then Circus Boy phoned to check everything was ok, and I said yea, and, 'ooh, by the way, what number house are you, cos I might not recognise it?'

'41. The one with the Aston Martin parked outside'

Now I know it's his parents' house, and I know that's not his own car, but even so. A James Bond car!

When I arrived at the house, he wasn't dressed (this will develop into a bit of a theme), but opened the door wearing a towel, because he was on his way to have a shower, having been busy SLEEPING all day! But he gave me  a glass of wine while I waited, and then we got his fire stuff and set off to the pub.

When we walked in, I was a little taken aback when one of the people he knew there said, 'oh, you've got ANOTHER one, Circus Boy!' Then to me he said, 'he's always got a pretty girl on his arm, this one.'

Has he indeed? But I didn't let it bother me, and we had a really good night. He did his fire thing, the first time I'd seen him perform, and I have to say that watching a half-naked bloke juggling fire is THE BEST foreplay. Then he did some guitar, and then we went back to his to drop off the fire stuff, before stumbling off home, because he'd somehow managed to ply me with a substantial amount of wine whilst we were out, and again, having a bloke pay for me is a pretty new experience, and one I could get used to quite easily.

Got back and drunkenly re-introduced him to Heather, and she was off quite quickly because the evening had gone so fast that it was gone midnight and I hadn't realised.

Of course, this didn't mean bedtime for Circus Boy, so I sat and drank some more wine, while he sat and smoked and took ketamine. Yup, you read that right. And maybe this should have rung alarm bells, but it really didn't, because although I can't explain it, whatever he felt like doing always seemed perfectly fine to me. He could probably have got out works and cranked in front of me and I wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Except that Circus Boy has a very strange view on drugs, and would never do heroin because 'you just can't source the pure stuff any more' and 'you have to be careful about what you put in your body'. So horse tranquilliser it is then!

Before we went to bed, he inspected my repair, and said it was pretty good, but probably wouldn't stand up to proper testing, but he had some electrical tape which would probably do the job a bit better, and he said he'd bring some around. But when we tested the repair, it was surprisingly robust, and the bed stayed intact right through to the next morning, so gaffa tape must be stronger than wood.

Now I have to admit that by this time I was quite keen on Circus Boy. Not just the sex, but the chat, the daft things he would sometimes come out with, his funny outlook on the world, the way he smelled even. Not aftershave - him. And paraffin. And the way we would stay snuggled up together all night. Until Steve, I'd never done this with anyone, because it was claustrophobic. I'd thought I'd never want to be held all night by anyone except him, but Circus Boy proved that this wasn't true. Circus Boy was cuddly. Well, in a bony sort of way. And even though he was so hairy it was practically fur, all of a sudden that was very attractive too.

Next morning I got up and saw Son off with his dad and step-family, then went back to bed. Although I had to get up to go to lunch with Heather and Sue, which was a shame, cos I felt like I was always hurrying Circus Boy out.

And then he did the most amazing thing. He brought me a cup of tea in the bath. After all the Steve crap, this was like... I don't know... I'd forgotten what it is like to be with someone considerate - or maybe just NORMAL. At that moment I was so surprised, and irrationally felt so cared for, that I almost burst into tears.

Then as I was putting on my make-up, he was clowning around in the garden, walking on his hands and doing cartwheels and stuff. That morning in the sunshine, it was like all the rubbish with my parents just didn't even exist. I felt the happiest I had since Dad had been taken into hospital; no, the happiest I had felt in AGES.

He left just before me, and it was really sweet cos he was stood on the doorstep chatting and cuddling and kissing for ages, and he said he wanted us to go out that evening to the club Dean had been going on about. I still wasn't very keen, and said I probably wouldn't be going, as I didn't think Heather and Sue would want to go. So he said he'd phone and see what I was up to later.

I went off to lunch and I must have been just full of it, cos although I still knew nothing could come of this, and although nothing had really changed, I was feeling a little bit infatuated, and a lot in lust.

I didn't go out that evening, cos apart from anything else, I needed some sleep and also, as I said to Circus Boy, 'we've seen eachother every day since Wednesday, I don't want you to get bored with me.'

'Oh no, I don't think that would ever happen,' said Circus Boy.

Or would it?

To be continued......

Circus Boy Part One

I am going to eventually blog about what happened when Steve got back, but to get some of why those things happened, I need to write about Circus Boy - so named because you know circus ringmasters and their twirly moustaches and little beards? That's him, that is.

Now this is going right back to July, and a friend's hen night. I was really looking forward to this because all my friends were going and it was the first time that Sue was going to be going out for ages - she always used to come out with me and Heather, but then she met a nice bloke, settled down, had a baby, got a new house etc etc and so her life had got in the way of her socialising big time. I was looking forward to it so much, in fact, that I thought a hair cut was in order. Now for most people this would involve booking an appointment and sitting back while a professional does the business. But that's not how I operate, oh no, not me. For some completely unknown reason I decided I was capable of cutting my own hair - including layers. What makes this decision even more inexplicable is that every time I cut my own fringe, I look like a refugee from Prisoner Cell Block H. Oh, and did I mention that last year I cut my own hair and ended up looking like a gonk? No? Well I did. And just before the hen night, I DID IT AGAIN! Gonk hair. Best party noght of the year, and I have gonk hair.

Well, there was only one thing for it. During the last gonk hair incident I bought some hair extensions, but never used them because they made me look like a transvestite. However, this gonking was even more extreme, and transvestite was a good look in comparison. So transvestite it was. Especially as the theme of the evening was 'sexist clothing' - a typo, obviously. My sexiest clothing is goth corset top thingy and skirt. And lots of make up. I SO looked like a man.

But nothing was going to dampen my mood, we all met up, everyone pretended my extensions looked nice, and off we went for a Chinese. At some point we all ended up wearing pink necklaces with shot glasses on,  not sure this was an enhancement to the look, but it did draw the eye away from the face, and for me this was a definite GOOD THING.

Now in the Chinese, things were getting a bit rowdy cos they were quite slow bringing the food, and we were quite fast downing the wine. Somehow me and Heather (the veggies) got a weird extra-garlicky dish which no-one wanted to eat, so I wolfed it down, reasoning aloud that, 'I'm not going to be snogging anyone tonight , so it doesn't matter what I smell like'.

We may have gone to another bar or two after this, the night is a little woolly around about this point, and then at the arse-end of the evening we ended up at the local dive bar come disco. One massive boogie session and a bottle of wine later we were standing chatting and in walks this chap with the most amazing facial hair, and I couldn't help but comment on how very fetching it was. So we started chatting. And chatting. And still more chatting.

Friends began to yawn and disappear. I was so engrossed I forgot to finish my wine bottle. It was a damn good conversation, wish I could remember more of it. I met all his friends, I recall strangely agreeing that the world was run by alien lizards (?????), and vividly recall asking Circus Boy (for this was him) if he was chatting me up because he thought I was a man in drag (THE SHAME, THE SHAME!)

Finally Sue and Heather were off, but I still wanted to stay, and Circus Boy wanted me to stay, so they said I could, but only on condition that Sue spoke to him first. She then, very embarrassingly, told him he had to take care of me, and to hammer the point home, told him the whole past history of how badly I have been treated in the past :-O . Honestly, it was like something your mother would do, and I stood there like a moody teen going, 'don't say that!...Don't tell him that!.... PLEASE! STOP!'

Eventually (after many minutes and many pulls away by me) they left. So me and Circus Boy chatted for even longer. Until the dive-disco closed, in fact. He then invited me back to his, and I said no, because following the Carnival Boy incident (might blog about that some time) about two years ago, I decided that I was a born-again virgin. No more tramping around for me, I was going to be a good girl until I met A One.

But Circus Boy wasn't about to give up. And to be fair I didn't take a lot of persuading. So off we went to his house, and we carried on drinking while he tried to get me drunk enough to shag him, even though that was going to take a hell of a long time on Baileys, which was all he had in the house.

In the interests of complete honesty, I should mention here that he is approximately half my age. And because I like a bit of tidiness (at least that is the only reason I can think of for why I did it), when he said he was 24, I said I was 48. So this mean, he thinks I am a full year older than I am. But maybe he liked the whole mathematical symmetry of it too, because he seemed pretty keen, and in the end I thought, 'oh what the hell.' Obviously the fact that he was skinny and muscly, had gorgeous eyes and the cutest smile, and this way of looking at me that made me feel just a little bit jellyish had nothing to do with my decision, it was purely his persistance that payed off.

But I didn't think it was fair for this to go ahead whilst he thought I had normal hair. So I insisted on taking out the extensions. I was prepared for anything including him running screaming from the room, but he actually seemed to think I had been making a bit of a fuss over nothing. How very unlike me ;-)

So next morning I wake up as light is dawning and start getting dressed, as per good one-nighter etiquette.

'Where are you going?' he asked.

'Home.'

'Oh. Why don't you stay, and then when it's breakfast time I can make you breakfast? We can have scrambled eggs.'

I don't eat breakfast. It makes me feel ill unless I eat it about mid-day. 'Erm, I dunno, I don't want to put you out.'

'You won't be. I want you to stay.'

So I did. And since it was AGES to breakfast time we sort of filled in the time. Which was very nice. Then finally we did get up and I said I was heading off without breakfast cos I felt a bit rubbish and hungover. So instead he showed my his juggling stuff and his fire stuff - because not only does he look like a ring-master, he is a fire-juggler. Amongst other things. As I left, he gave me a big hus and asked if I wanted his number.

'Nah, it's ok, I wouldn't ring it anyway.' Cos I thought he was doing that polite thing that men do, and cos I NEVER phone first. But he actually looked a bit upset, so I said, 'but you can take mine if you want, but don't feel like you have to call.'

So he took my number. And hugged me again. And then stood in the doorway and waved when I got to the bottom of the drive. So there I am, walking down the road feeling like the cat that got the cream, cos I just spent the night with the most MASSIVE ego-boost ever, and I looked around all smiley just to see the bedroom I'd so recently vacated - and he was only still standing there watching me walk off! So I smiled even more til I looked like that Alice in Wonderland cat.

Oh, but the smile soon faltered as I reached High Street. I had forgotten, it was FARMERS' MARKET weekend. Everyone in the world (well, Shropshire) was there. And I'm walking home, in last night's clothes, with last night's make-up on, CARRYING MY EXTENSIONS (and smelling of boy). And it was 1pmish. Oh dear.

But even that couldn't erase my smile. Did I mention he JUGGLES FIRE??

So I got home and got straight into my dressing gown and had a bit of a happy sleep, because I really hadn't slept much the night before. It didn't really cross my mind that he would call. But he did.

But that's for another blog.....