What a night that was!

Okay, so firstly, I am not in the best states of mind this morning. That'll be thanks to my good old friend, Jack Daniels, and yes, I know, last night was supposed to be a classy, romantic and mature evening where Nick and I really hit it off and realised our feelings for each other. Was it? God no...

First of all, Nick arrived in a really gorgeous looking black shirt with baggy/slouch jeans. He had black boots tucked underneath the flare of his jeans which really completed his image. He walked through the door with an air of grace and underlying confidence that REALLY did it for me! In his hand was a bottle of red wine and in the other, one single rose. Very nice touch! Brownie point going up and up and up some more! Seriously, if Nick had been a football team right then, and brownie points was what he was competing for, he would finish top of the league every time! (my football knowledge comes from my Dad and an unfortunate ex boyfriend who thought it was polite to jump on the coffee table screaming at the top of his lungs when Chelsea either scored a goal or were "unfairly" fouled. A grown man shouting "REF!" every 4 seconds is not really the best turn on, but albeit, I learnt about the sport.)

So, after I had dished a billion brownie points for the wine and the rose, he took his boots off and walked into the lounge, where he just rested himself on my sofa. It was almost like he floated down to the sitting position, he was that smooth. Maybe I was just hallucinating as I watched him move. I made sure that my gormless expression of lust, complemented with an over salivated mouth, was quickly gone by the time he looked at me. I didn't want him to see me drooling like some pink haired member from Grease, did I? No, Annie...composure, classiness, maturity and grace...hopefully that will be enough to get him in between my bed sheets...oops - there goes the classiness. Still, I had been thinking about Nick and my bedsheets for quite some time, so why change now?

"Would you like some of this wine?"
"Sure, that would be great."

I proceeded to the kitchen and uncorked the bottle, letting the aroma fill the air. It was very posh wine. Quite expensive looking and smelling...this guy must have a pretty penny or two. I poured 2 glasses and went back to the lounge, where Nick was standing up, looking at the pictures dotted around the wall.

"That's my family. My Mum and Dad. And, obviously, a very young looking me." I explained, trying to sound less and less embarrassed.
"Only child?" Nick replied rather monotonously.
"I'm afraid so. This just means I'm spoilt and bratty when I can't get my own way!" I joked in a rather unfortunate manner. Nick just turned around to me and let a grin dance around his mouth, obviously the type of grin to "humour the nervous girl" but nevertheless, a grin is a grin.
"Who are these people?" Nick asked, pointing to a rather modest frame, hanging above my television.
"Oh, they are my closest friends. Zoe, Sarah and Will."
"Ah right, I see. This Will looks a bit familiar. Does he work in a cafe?"
"No. Not that I know of. But, I wouldn't put it past Will to have a secret life on the side! He's like that sometimes...quite theatrical." I explained. Was I going to tell Nick about Wills recent accident? No, why would he care? And, besides, I didn't want him to think that I was friends with a bunch of loons.

The night kicked off to a wonderful start. We chatted, relaxed, drank wine and laughed alot about all sorts of things. I told him what I used to do as a job and he teased my about it, and then I told him what I did for a degree, and yet again, he teased me about it. I didn't mind though, because I fancied him so much, it gave me an excuse to turn the flirting up. But, I realised halfway into the night, that the flirting was just one way. On my side...why wasn't he being overly flirtatious? I mean, how many times does a woman have to "accidentally" touch a mans thigh for him to get the message? Well, if tonight is anything to go by, many many times. By the time the dinner was ready, I must've gotten to know his leg more than him, the amount of times I casually dropped an eager palm onto it! Still, when a guy doesn't get it, he just doesn't get it.

In many ways, men are like hard drives from computers. They claim to be reliable, secure and safe, but they never are, and they take a very very VERY long time to repair when they fail. Not only that, but when you buy a computer for the first time, the hard drive is empty. There is nothing there. You need to add different files and folders and programmes to make it worth using...hard drives don't know what to do unless you tell it exactly. So, here I was, dishing out a pasta dish that I had cooked to, what was turning out to be a typical hard drive man.

"I hope you like pasta." I said hesitantly.
"Yes, of course I do. My mother is Italian, so I spent most of my childhood eating the stuff." That'll explain the olive skin. I just thought he was well tanned!
"Wow, Italian huh? That is rather exotic." I said in the most provocative and alluring way I could. God, was I really that desperate to get this guy to kiss me? Well, looking at my track record for kisses and how long the guy hangs around afterwards, I would say, yes, I am very desperate indeed!
"Well, exotic is one word. I would say it was just an annoyance. Most people think that being half Italian is really amazing. All those holidays to Rome to see Grandparents and not to mention being fluent in the beautiful language. But, it's not all that great. My Mother was a very a strict catholic and if I ever stepped a foot out of line, that would it. Out came the cane or the slipper or the soap. Not pleasant." Nick explained with a degree of upset.

Suddenly I felt all awkward. So, he was telling me that when he was a naughty little boy his mother used to use old school methods of punishment and discipline because she was a fanatical catholic Italian woman? Well, that doesn't sound all that bad.

"It couldn't have been all that bad Nick. I was lucky if I got yelled at for something when I was a kid. My parents' barely even noticed me. I may as well have been invisible to them. I didn't know what discipline was when I was a young girl. I just did what I pleased and noone got in my way. It sounds great, but looking back, it really wasn't. I would've killed for some attention - some acknowledgement. But I never got any. So, I would be naughty to get them to see me. But, they never did." I explained, trying to find some common ground to break the awkward air.
"Well, I would've chosen invisibility over regular beatings any day. And it wasn't just my mother. My father...why am I even telling you this?" Nick suddenly said.
"It's okay Nick. You can tell me anything." I lied. Of course, I wanted him to open up to me, but I wasn't really sure if him telling me anything was a good idea. At this stage...
"Well, seen as I started, I may as well finish. My Father used to beat my Mother, and then later on, my Mother would turn her frustration and sadness on me. She didn't have any other way of dealing with it."

Nick carried on telling me his life story. He had left home when he was just 17 and ended up living in B&B's across London. Luckily, his Father was wealthy, so he had a large savings account from the pocket money he had accumulated. At this point, I had moved my chair around to his side of the table. I thought it would be a more...understanding place to listen. Of course, this was utter rubbish. I felt sorry for him and his story was slightly heart breaking. I wanted to console him. He was upset. He didn't seem angry. He was perfectly normal, just sitting back with his wine glass in one hand, casually telling me about his life. I guess he was just giving me some background, I don't know, but for some reason, I was compelled to offer him a friendly hug.

This is when the disaster struck.

He accepted the hug. Thank god. He moved in to my embrace and nestled into my shoulder. He felt warm and very comfortable. His ruffled hair was tickling my face, but I didn't care. He smelt really good - fresh and cool, almost as if his cologne was mountain air itself. Then, as he started to pull back and return to his previous position, I stupidly let my female ways get the better of me, leaned in, placed my lips on his.

He immediately pulled away, looking stunned and slightly uncomfortable. He stood up, mumbling something about the time and his last taxi home. I got up to try and intervene his panic, but he continued to spiral out of control, moving down to the door, grabbing his boots in his hands and leaving my flat in his socks. Well, he didn't just leave. He did say goodbye and that he would call me. For some reason he told me that it was nice to meet me, even though he had met me once before.

In the space of 5 minutes, this dream man had vanished from my evening as quickly as he had entered it. I just know it was my stupid attempt at trying to kiss him, but I couldn't help it. It was the perfect moment. We were hugging, he had just opened up to me about his childhood and I was getting high off his man smell!! no wonder I tried to kiss him.

But I did not expect him to freak out like he did. Perhaps he just didn't want me as much as I wanted him. Typical. It's always Annie who makes herself look like the easy one...

I always read things about how men over jump the mark and try and take advantage of you on the first date, but that never seems to happen to me. It's always me who carries that responsibility. The responsibility of making a fool out of myself, especially in front of men I really like. No wonder I'm single. Men won't come near me, not even if I was the last female on the planet. Oh, why did I have to try and kiss him? ANNIE!

Well, after he left, I felt so low and humiliated, I cracked open some JD and mixed some coke with it, settled in front of the TV with a glass and channel hopped all night long. What an end to a potentially perfect evening.

Of course the glass of JD and coke turned into 2 glasses, then 3, then 4 and finally a whole bottle. This is why I feel like the London underground is running through my head this morning. Commuters, foreign kids and lost individuals clumped around through my skull this morning as I slowly started to come to terms with what an idiot I was last night.

I fell asleep and woke up on my sofa, with my cat looking staring straight at me thinking "What a looser." See? Even my male cat hates me! Anything with a penis and I automatically repel it...all men, far and wide, flee the streets when they see me, Annie Ball, the great penis repeller walking towards them.

At around 9 thirty I got a phone call from Zoe, saying that Will wanted to get out for a bit. The girls and Will were going to St. James' Park for the afternoon and wondered if I wanted to go. Of course I did, but I had to shake this hangover first.

I showered, got dress, left my flat in a state and caught the tube to the centre of town.

All I could think of, though, was when or if I would ever see Nick again...