Date No 3 - The Aftermath.

Date No 3

Out with Ollie, the...oh...go on then...the BF. Bit scary to say that, actually.

Anyways, “..Shut up Flic...and tell your story.”

Oh...ok...I will.

So...yes, out for a nice meal with Ollie. Dropped his car off outside my house and we walked into town. Not far.

Had a curry and a few drinks. No, I’m not a Chicken Tika gal, I’m more a Chicken Dhansak kind of gal, which is what I ordered. Ollie ordered something spicy. Tried it. Too hot for me!

We chatted, lots of smiling, developing our own language, y’know? Really good. Felt quite stuffed after all that. Ollie wanted to go out for some drinks afterwards, which is fine, but he drank more and more. The boy was drunk.

Not steaming enough so that he couldn’t stand, but drunk enough that I didn’t want him left on his own.

Plus, he had his car here.

Bit annoyed, not gonna lie, but executive decision; bring him home, put him up on the sofa, quilt over and leave him a glass of water.

Naturally, there was lots of drunken chat - I’d just had a few drinks, merry but not drunk by any means - of wanting to go to bed with me, of not ever meeting a woman like me before, of saying sorry that he’d got drunk...y’know, the usual crap.

I slept ok for me. I think he was out like a light. I got up at 6am to wake him up. He has, after all, gotta go to the next city over, get a shower, get his shit together and get to work.

I made him a cuppa as he groggily apologised for drinking so much. I accepted the apology. Big kiss and a cuddle and I kicked him out.

*Big sigh* Men!