This is Annie Ball

Here I am again. It's been a well rounded full blown 12 hours or so since I last wrote anything...and believe me, the time has flown by. I have been somewhat busy today. Well, when I say that, what I really mean is that I have been...lets just say occupied.

I left last night in a quandry. As I crawled into bed after a very mundane shift at work, my thoughts were only filled with one thing - the phone number I had in my pocket. Was I going to call it or was I going to throw it away, and reject yet another potential opportunity for love. These questions were swimming around my head for so long, I found myself lying in bed, wide awake, triyng to make patterns out of the shadows on the ceiling. I think I finally drifted off at around 2am. I had a restless night last night - just dreaming about crazy things (things of which I wont bore you with now!) and when my alarm woke me up with a startle at 9am, I realised that I wasn't any more rested than I was 7 hours previously. Typical!

I slipped into my dressing gown and slippers, had some cereal and watcher Jeremy Kyle (another morning ritual). This episode was about a woman who had rejected men all her life and was sick and tired of being alone. She was, like, 45 or something, and due to her terrible past and rough upbringing, she felt like she could never trust a man. I started thinking about myself, all alone in this flat, huddled up in my dressing gown, with nothing but my cat to keep me company. Jasper is always so understanding and intuitive. He knows exactly when something is wrong. I think cats have instinct like that, don't they? Anyway, he made a comfortable spot on my lap, whilst I lay there comparing myself to this lonely heart on TV in front of me. I started thinking about the phone number...everything just seemed to coincidental this morning. Seriously. I just kept getting this feeling that I was getting nothing but signs telling me to call this guy...call this guy...CALL THIS GUY...at the end of the day, he's just a human being right? Nothing to be scared about. If I get scared, just hang up...

I thought sod it and made my decision. Just after 1pm this afternoon I made the call...it took me long enough though! I was trying to rehearse what I was going to say to Jasper. He was just purring at me...didn't really help me. Eventually, I got so fed up with worrying about the same thing over and over again, that I just picked up the receiver and dialled the number. 1 ring...2 rings...3 rings...he wont pick up...4 rings...5 rings...must be out with his mates...6 rings...7 rings...or his girlfriend...8 rings...why would he give my his number if he has a girlfriend?...9 rings...10 rings...maybe he thinks I am just one of those 'easy' types...11 rings...well, I most certainly am not! How dare he pressume...12 rings...git. Think he can make me the 'bit on the side', does he? I am not about to let....

..and then he picked up...

I hung up about 15 minutes later, my heart racing, my pulse beating and my skin all goosebumpy. One of the most surreal conversations I had probably ever had! His name is Nick and he lives in Kensington. That was just the start! He told me all sorts of things about himself and whilst he did I hung off every word he said. I asked him questions and he answered. I just couldn't seem to shut up. Maybe I was just trying to avoid the dreaded 'So, enough about me. Lets talk about you' line. I mean, that sort of stuff should be saved for the first date, right? The conversation finished with me knowing lots and lots about him, and he knowing hardly anything about me, other than my name, my age, where I lived, how much I hate my job and when I was next available.

Which, by the way, made me respond with fright and panic, and I blurted out 'I am not sure really. Erm, let me check my diary and call you back?'....rule number one...never say YOU'LL call back. That's just a blatent code for telling someone you arent interested without saying "I'm not interested"...

So, it's 10:30 at night now, and I don't have to go into work. I am sat in my flat on my new PC (which I am starting to get used to!) with my thoughts playing ping pong in my head...back and forth...back and forth. I am trying to think when I am next available. I guess he'll want to go on a date or something? Do you know how long it is since I've been on a date?

Too long, that's for sure.

(written last night at 21:30)

Tonight has been somewhat of an out of the ordinary night. I never really thought that anything interesting could EVER happen at this place, but lo and behold, it did. Somehow, a little bit of excitement was injected into the atmosphere in this open plan jungle, and, so far, everyone has been in a pretty good mood. Apart from me, of course. Well, I say that - I was in a bad mood until about 10 minutes ago....

I arrived at work about 4:30pm and was greeted by...well, noone really...just Moira, the overweight lady who sits opposite me. There is only a panel screen that separates us, and I think they are meant to grant us privacy at the work place, as stipulated by the government or something...I think it's a load of b**s really. I mean, if you wanted to keep everyone private from everyone else, you wouldn't stick them all in an open plan office with windows so big that they would give the solar panels on the Hubble space telescope a run for it's money (or a zero gravity float for its money) would you? You would build individual cubicle's...not that I'm bitter about my panel screen...I just can't stand to look/hear Moira. She aggravates me. She has one of those high pitched laughs, that, when listened too, is like someone scraping their nails across a blackboard, but when taken up a notch, dogs and bats gather from miles around, going insane in the car park outside our window. Not only that, but she tries to make every customer she talks to her best friend. I'll be sitting here, doing my work, when my ears will prick up to the sound of "Oh, a new baby boy, how cute..." or "Fantastic! I had a feeling he would do well in his exams. You must be so proud..." I mean, they could be her real life friends, but when she talks about new births and exam results to every customer she gets...every...5...minutes of the day, I tend to think that, no, actually, she's just being over familiar. I think that's what I don't like...her over familiarity.

I sat down at my desk, shuddered a little when Moira laughed, and put on my head set. My first call beeped through. Some woman who claimed to have paid for the paint set, but didn't actually receive the product. I transferred her to my supervisor as soon as I could. Anything to stop her complaining. And this was how my afternoon went. For 3 hours straight...complaints about not receiving the paints, or the paints had dried up and, apparently, I am a master a rehydrating them and should instantly how to fix the issue. Again, I hit transfer. I took a break and had a coffee whilst reading Heat. The half hour rest was lovely, just kicking back and reading about Jennifer Anniston's latest arrival of cellulite that made me feel so much better about my 'shapely' behind. But, before I knew it, the beeping in my ear was back and the grind had started once more.

But then I got a beep that I don't quite think I'll ever forget.

It started out normal. "Hi, I am ringing about your paint set. I saw it being advertised on QVC" (typical!) "and I was just wondering if it would be possible to order one."
Well, this was a refreshing change...polite, male, no disgruntled mother whose child had threatened to leave home unless their paint set arrived in approximately 4 minutes...so, I responded with politeness. It was probably going to be my only chance to be civil this evening. And what I got was something I hadn't really prepared myself for...he said:
"Wow...you have a really beautiful voice..."
I was like, WHAT!!!!?!???!?...noone has ever said that to me before. I mean, sure, when I was in the school play, singing Christmas carols, my Dad would compliment my singing, but I think that's because he had to more than anything. But some random man saying my voice was beautiful. I was gob smacked to say the least.
How did I respond? Like an idiot, of course. I started spluttering something about how my old teacher used to say I was articulate, and then how I won a prize in year 8 for having the 'most interesting things to say'...oh my god...was I becoming Moira?

Well, he laughed and said that I was a pleasure to talk to. He said that if I would like to chat some more, outside of the working world, I should call him. He gave me his number & his email address. It's a local number too! So, that must mean he's close by.

Now, most normal women my age would probably jump at the chance of calling up some guy who thinks they are beautiful. At the end of the day, that's all we're looking for, right? Someone to call us beautiful. But, me being me, I start to worry and panic. I over analyse everything and make mental pros and cons. Seizing the day has never been a strength of mine. So, why should it change now? Truth is, I am torn. I'm still sat at my desk...Moira is still yammering away to herself and I am still getting callers...they are dying down a bit, but they still come every so often. I only have an hour left, and then I go home...

Do I call this stranger, or do I not?