Le Spaniard – Date No.4

Hello Everyone!

Welcome back to the latest instalment of my dating life…  which at the moment is dating Le Spaniard.

It was just over a week ago when I saw him last but I’ve been a busy bee with the flu and becoming addicted to a certain youtube account I can’t even…  I just love it – if you’re a girly girl and love make up and hair and style, you’ll love this beautiful lady.  So anyway, when you’ve finished being mesmerised by the lovely Freddy and suddenly wanting to get on Debenhams and Boots websites to buy everything she owns…

I was going to watch the Manchester City V’s Everton game, and Le Spaniard advised me to get a morning train (which I absolutely was thrilled to do… spending more time with Le Spaniard?  Bring it on!) because the group usually met up around midday and had a few beers before the game.

Which, of course, meant I was up at 6am showering and preening and making sure my nails and hair and make up was perfect ready and packing my overnight bag and then changing my outfit a zillion times ready in time for my lift to the station at 9.15am for the 9.48 train.

The train was absolutely packed, and my allocated seat was taken by some idiot that wouldn’t give it up even though it had been reserved for me.  I managed to grab a seat next to a rather nice but eccentric lady instead.  On the way I realised I’d forgotten my headphones so spent the time reapplying lipstick every few minutes, fiddling with my coat and my hair, and texting Le Spaniard, who was already waiting for me at the station.

When I got there, we did our usual self conscious kiss on the cheek before he took control of my overnight bag and wheeled it in the direction of the Pret-A-Manger for a catch up over a cappuccino.  He’s got me addicted to the stuff.  Once again, I found myself sitting across from him and trying not to let my eyes bug out from my head at how absolutely beautiful he is.  I feel sometimes that because we don’t see each other regularly, I have to sort of work through my shyness again to reconnect with him.  I can’t just pick up where I left off.  So he tells me little anecdotes about work and I tell him about the few parties I’ve attended, and then we’re off to drop my overnight bag off at his before jumping on the Tram to the City Centre to meet his friends.

Le Paddy was there with a few new friends.  We will call them Le Model (I’ll explain the nickname later, but he wasn’t a model, I promise you), Le Sleaze (again, all will become apparent) and Le Smithy (purely because he reminds me of Smithy from Gavin an Stacey, a British Comedy Series).  There were a few others but they weren’t exactly… memorable.

It was at that point I realised I was the only girl in this outing.  Whiskey and cokes later (Le Spaniard insisted it will be good for my cold… just days before it blew up into full blown flu) and we were all back on the Tram to the Etihad Stadium.  It was pandemonium.

Le Spaniard had changed his season ticket seat so that he could be seated next to me, right up in the rafters.  The game was fun, even if they drew.  During half time, Le Spaniard went outside to puff away on a cigarette and I heard him for the first time speaking Spanish in full throttle.  He was on the phone to his dad as his dad was watching the match from his home in Spain.  It was mesmerising just listening to him speaking in his native tongue instead of the Spanish-Mancunian hybrid I’d been used to hearing.  Sometimes I forget English is his second language.

Anyway, after the game we had a 30 minute wait for the Tram and finally arrived back into the City Centre to meet back up with his friends… then the real drinking began.

Le Sleaze had been sitting opposite me for quite some time, and he had not spoken a word to me… or indeed, to anyone.  So my tipsy self told him that I’d become aware that he was extremely quiet.  And then I couldn’t shut him up.  He monopolised me for quite some time, and then at one point, he asked me where I was staying.  I told him I was staying at Le Spaniard’s tonight, to which Le Sleaze responded “How much to get rid of Le Spaniard?”  As if I was some common prostitute!  It wasn’t as if I was wearing anything provocative – I was in a parker coat, a t-shirt, skinny jeans and flat riding boots!

It was decided we were all off to Chorlton to see a few of the bars over there.  Whilst waiting for the Tram to arrive, Le Model, a man in his 50’s, happened to begin talking to me about Victoria’s Secret – I’m pretty sure we were talking about the Trafford Centre first but oh well.  I told him that I adored Victoria’s Secret and that I’m really wanting to visit the store.  Le Model, in his drunken state, told me that if Le Spaniard refuses to take me, Le Model would take me instead… to which I responded he only wanted to go to  try on all of the underwear and strut around.  Which earned Le Model the nickname…  as after that, Le Model, Le Sleaze and myself began strutting on the platform waiting for the Tram to arrive, as though it was a pink sparkly runway.

As we got into Chorlton, I caught up with Le Spaniard and told him what Le Sleaze had said.  He notified me that Le Sleaze’s advances certainly had not gone unnoticed, and proceeded to hold me close until we got into the next pub, and remained close to me thereafter, much to my delight.

It all got a little hazy after that, with Le Paddy getting on the karaoke and moving on to another bar and sitting outside in the freezing cold, talking about a possible job move for Le Spaniard closer to me (or maybe I dreamed that?), visiting the road the Bee-Gee’s grew up on, going to some kebab place for chips and then being hauled into a taxi back to Le Spaniard’s.

We went straight to sleep as soon as we got in and I vaguely recall waking in the middle of the night panicking about my phone.

The next day we spent the morning and early afternoon in bed cuddling and kissing and tickling each other – my favourite part of the trip and part of me thinks we should spend the beginning of all of our trips that way as it really forces my shyness to disappear and I find I’m much more open and relaxed around him.

I had my first ever Nando’s, wandered around and then went to the station for a coffee and relax ready for my train back home.

The journey back home was uneventful, I leaned my head against the window for the entire journey, feeling the back of my eyes stinging.  Goodbye’s are always the worst.

Can I keep doing this?  Allowing myself fall that little bit deeper each time I see him?  I feel sick and count the days down until I see him next, I panic and need everything to be “perfect” and pretty much lose sight of the fact that he is in fact, just an ordinary man.  I get over excited and far too nervous about seeing him.  And then when we leave each other I feel sad and it takes all of my might to not run back to him.  Can I keep doing this?  Can I keep saying goodbye?

And so, 18 days until I see him again.  This time, he’s coming to mine again and I need to sort out a plan of action.

Oh, and on a sidenote I almost forgot!  Le Smithy added me on Facebook and my colleague… we will call her Le Sweetie (because she really is a darling), anyway, Le Sweetie mentioned that she found Le Smithy rather… attractive.

Of course, I have been playing matchmaker, much to Le Spaniard’s amusements (what, I’ve got to amuse myself while he’s not around, right?  And it’s sure cheaper than buying Michael Kors Handbags and Ted Baker Purses *guilty* while I’m bored, right?  Le Spaniard does keep telling me off for spending haha, so I’m just replacing one guilty pleasure with another).

So anyway, last weekend while Le Spaniard and I were organising his trip, we mentioned perhaps Le Smithy would like to accompany us to meet Le Sweetie!  We are thinking of organising a meal at the Races and then going to a posh cocktail bar in our closest City.

Lastly, something that warmed my heart a little this weekend.  Now, Le Spaniard doesn’t do feelings.  He certainly doesn’t do sitting around talking about them.  He isn’t very affectionate (especially in public)… so this was kind of big for him.  It bought tears to my eyes anyway.  I was still fending off the flu and Le Spaniard messaged me Sunday night saying that he was at the game Sunday and he looked next to him, and I wasn’t there like I had been the week before, which made him sad… and then he said he missed me.  Which is probably the closest I’ll get to an admitted feeling out of him anytime soon!

Course, this whole Spanish dating thing is completely new to me still and every single stereotype I’ve read on Spanish men (because, of course I need to read up on what the culture and the general ideas around the society and the people in it are like…!) has been crushed by Le Spaniard.  I read that they’re Lothario’s that are constantly after a different girl, don’t leave home until they’re 30, Mama’s Boys, very loud and obvious, make ludicrous claims of love after 10 minutes of speaking with you etc…  (I may be over exaggerating a little there, haha)

Le Spaniard is nothing like that at all.  He’s quiet and rather shy, very courteous and gentlemanlike, can’t really talk to girls and certainly can’t flirt (at least not until he’s in private and alone, which I’d imagine would require some flirting before he got to that stage?), left home at 24 to come to the UK, tries to limit his time in Spain to twice a year, and after all the hours we’ve spent together and the number of hours we’ve clocked up on WhatsApp, he’s yet to get any further past the initial “I miss you” phase.  No loving gestures from this Spaniard.

But it also means I have to really rein myself in also – I want to tell him that I miss him every single day.  I want to tell him that I hate the distance between us and that I’d love nothing more than to be able to see him even once a week, after work for a takeaway and to sling my legs over his lap and get a good film on the TV before going to bed and getting ready with him for work the next morning.  Normal dating-practically-a-couple behaviour, you know?  I want to learn myself to be more affectionate towards him but the only way I can see myself getting to that stage is by seeing him more often.  I really ave to bite my tongue on pretty much everything that runs through my head and select something a little saner.

Anyway, I could go on for hours and I’ve already been bashing this keyboard for over an hour and I’ve missed a Michael Kors bag for sale on e-bay haha!

As always, it’s been a pleasure treasure, and I’ll update you soon!







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