Le Spaniard Cometh

Dear Diary…

I’ve had the most magical weekend. It was like a dream.  I cannot even begin to describe my emotions right now – except that perhaps I am floating on the grey clouds above me.  What’s this – it’s grey and raining?  I didn’t even notice!

Friday night felt like Christmas Eve. I had a birthday party to go to with my family, and the theme was 1920’s/Great Gatsby.  We had a great evening dancing the Charleston and sipping cosmo’s.  I was so nervous – and had been all week, no matter how many times I would use a mud mask and steam my face, my skin was suffering for my worries.  When I get stressed, I break out.  And they come up in the most annoying of places, like my cheeks and my neck and I even get a third eye sometimes.  I’m so blessed ;).

I barely slept Friday night. I think perhaps 3am I dropped off to sleep finally.  I was awake at 7am on Saturday, counting the hours down.  My parents popped over to help me fit my fireplace on the wall and I cleaned, yet again, just to make sure everything was just so.  I painted my nails, I put hot rollers in my hair, I cycled through my wardrobe, I moisturized in my favourite sparkly posh moisturizer, Valentina by Valentino, I made sure I was feeling amazing before I left for the station.

I parked up 40 minutes before he was due to arrive and waited in the car, thinking I’d walk around to the platform and meet Le Spaniard as he got off the train, black and white movie style, you know, run into his arms etc. In reality, I didn’t realise how large the station was and ended up running on the flyover (in heels!) towards the platform he would be arriving at, only to find the train had arrived a couple of minutes early, and he’d got off the train… saw a way out sign (another flyover in another area of the station!) and promptly followed it, thinking I’d be waiting outside.  Once we realized this, I ran over the flyover he had walked over moments before and I realized my head was blank – I couldn’t remember what he looked like.  My eyes were everywhere looking for him, but I was frightened that I wouldn’t recognize him.

But of course I did. Looking utterly beautiful and smart in a blazer, black t-shirt and black jeans with shoes on, leaning against a phone box just outside the station, puffing away on a cigarette (I know, I know, but those Europeans know how to smoke so sexily!) and diligently typing into his mobile phone (he was texting me his whereabouts).  He saw me as I walked out of the station towards him and I couldn’t stop myself.  My excitement overwhelmed my shyness, and I tiptoed up to kiss his cheek and hug him tightly.  It was as though the whole world blurred out around us and as we made our way to the car, Le Spaniard talking 100 miles an hour and me trying to remember how to breathe.  Once his overnight bag was placed in the boot of my car, we made our way towards my home, out of the city, through the countryside, and finally to my small town.

He took in my street, declaring it “very English”, and eagerly made his way to my home, looking around it and saying how lovely it was.  I asked if he wanted a drink – and we took a bottle of wine outside in the garden to drink, and he must have demolished about 5 or 6 Camel cigarettes whilst we sat there.

I realised I’d not eaten any food since Thursday evening, so we decided to have a bite to eat over in my local. I got changed into a little sexy black dress, and as we were about to leave, Le Spaniard decided to kiss me.  Passionately.  Course, I was in raptures and before I knew it, he was pulling my dress off and we ended up in bed doing a lot of heavy petting.  I ended up needing to re-do my lipstick and sort my hair out before leaving for the pub.

We walked over, me clutching on to his arm because my legs were shaking…! Le Spaniard ordered a starter of chicken goujons in a spicy sauce for us, and then he had a steak with egg and chips, and I ordered a good old classic burger.

After that, we took a taxi into a nearby town to me, to a bar/club that I knew had an 80’s disco night on. Don’t ask me what possessed me to think of that place, but it was crawling with generations past.  As Le Spaniard called it, “The Last Chance Saloon” – you could smell the desperation in the air and see it in their eyes as they scoured the room full of people.  Le Spaniard and I cozied up in a corner to watch the shenanigans.  We were there a few hours, drinking whisky and coke and jagerbombs.

We left just after midnight, getting home and drinking more whisky and coke on my sofa before deciding it was time for bed.

Again, heavy petting ensured, and I had the most intense ending of my life. I couldn’t get enough.  We finally settled down around 3am, me in “the nook” of his arms, and fell to sleep.

I woke yesterday around 7am. Bleary eyed and half asleep, I reached out to see if Saturday had been a dream, but he was still there.  Snoring.  LOUDLY.  Once I was awake, that was it.  I couldn’t sleep again.  I tried everything – every possible position, but knowing that Le Spaniard was merely millimetres from me…

I think I let him sleep until 9am. Then I got up and made him a coffee.  We spent hours lounging in bed, him watching his beloved Spanish Football Team and I managed to work an article I’d found on the scientific formula for love into our lazy Sunday morning.  I didn’t tell him this was what the article was, I merely said it was a “get to know you” quiz that shows your character.

For anyone who is interested, it’s 36 questions that begin very innocently, but become deeper and more revealing as the questions go on. Afterwards, you stare deeply into their eyes for 4 minutes.  I don’t think I have ever felt so terrified in my life.  I can’t say I’ve ever looked into anyone’s eyes longer than 3 seconds!  We lay on our sides close to each other, holding each other and at first we were making silly faces and admitting how uncomfortable/embarrassed we were… and we consoled each other by saying that we only had another minute or so to go.  When our time was up, I didn’t want to look away.  I now know how the deer in headlights feel – dazzled and mesmerised, I couldn’t look away… There seemed a raw sense of trust and honesty.

Another session of heavy petting got underway, the questionnaire and the stare off had really made me feel more comfortable with him. I was suddenly ok with him seeing me completely naked; I didn’t flinch when he gently took my hand and moved my arm away from my chest, declaring he wanted to look at me.  I felt much closer to him.  Because of that, I could be more playful and fun… I could really let my guard down and just enjoy myself without wondering if he had noticed the small swell of my stomach or the yellow bruise on my arm.  I shrieked and laughed without abandon when he grabbed my leg and tickled my foot. I felt it was ok that I could call out his name in “that” moment. It felt good to just let go and stop trying to be quite so perfect. You know?

Afterwards, we had a shower and headed back into the city, to show him around and then have lunch in one of my old haunts. 

I’m not big on PDA, but I completely adored it when he gave me a little kiss as he got up from our table to go and order our lunch. Just the small things like when he was waiting in a queue to buy more cigarettes he caught my eye and winked at me. I know, I’m easily pleased.

We went back to my car at the station half hour before his train was due, managed to take a couple of photos of us both together and he told me he’d really enjoyed the weekend. We organised that I would travel to Manchester in a couple of weeks to see him, we kissed a fair few times… And then poof! He was gone. 

Seconds later, Whatsapp messages flooded my phone thanking me again for the weekend and that he had really enjoyed himself. We organised my visit to Manchester a little more, pondered over his time here and little by little the fog in my brain lifted, the world came back into focus for me, people were around and I could see their faces again, I had emails to respond to, I had calls to return, I had laundry to do. But for 22.5 hours, nothing else mattered. Work didn’t matter, my godawful skin didn’t make it into my mind, the paper cut on my thumb didn’t even ail me… I was in the bubble. And it felt phenomenal.

Until next time, it was a pleasure to share my secret, treasure 😉

Elle

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