The week that followed my Sugar Daddy incident came fast and painfully, both physically and mentally. I hadn’t heard from him since the day I left and it became clearer to me that I was nothing more than a booty call. Ok, that I called, but my pathetic mind expected some sort of correspondence. I had also caught a vomiting bug from my nephew and was off work which seemed to make my depression even worse; there was no way I could risk an “accidental” drive-by of his house. It was mid-month and I could never budget for an emergency valet if this bug progressed to my bowel. I somehow convinced myself I was being punished for my shagging antics at the weekend but secretly smirked that there was a chance I had passed my illness onto Sugar Daddy; who would be shitting through the eye of a needle and unable to meet any of his potential matches this week. My time off however, enhanced my swiping efforts and allowed me to arrange a date with a potential Cassinova.

I was speaking to a few suiters but two particularly grabbed my attention. Brian was the first who caught my eye, with his hot body and jet-set lifestyle. He was thirty-three and seemed to have good chat, a great job and was keen to meet up. He was currently in Germany and wouldn’t be back until next weekend which allowed a constant flow of communication each day. The other was Patrick who stayed in Partick, which I still chuckle at now. He was a marine and had been also been single for a few years. He was very polite and extremely intelligent which is a huge turn on. He wanted to meet up quickly so the first day I felt better I got out my pj’s and headed into town. I loved the fact I was texting two men at the same time because I am normally on the receiving end of this torment but reversing the roles made the power trip I had insane.
I told Brian I was out with some mates and headed into town to introduce myself to Patrick. It was a day date so I had to refrain from wearing the “First date outfit” and opted for some tight jeans, black strappy top and power heels. I had most definitely lost at least half a stone that weekend so I confidently strutted through Central Station with my flat stomach feeling like Kate Moss. I was approaching him thinking he looks completely identical to his pictures, good start. He had the whole Owen Wilson thing going on, totally not good looking but strangely hot? I wasn’t completely ashamed walking through Glasgow with him, well, that was until he opened his mouth.

“Hey there, it’s soooo wonderful to meet you”.

His voice was a cross between Mrs. Doubtfire and Mr Tumble. He was so overly enthusiastic about everything and he was a hugger. We had an awkward embrace at the station and walked to a local bar for a bite to eat. He seemed pleasant enough but he stopped about three fucking dogs on the way to clap them, Jesus Christ, I thought, I’m on a date with Ace Ventura.

We ordered our meals and I played it safe with some soup. He, on the other hand, ordered some scampi and we began chatting. I couldn’t help thinking that would be the only fishy thing he was getting his hands on tonight. The date was going well however I wasn’t attracted to him but I enjoyed his company enough to order more and more drinks. I opened up to Patrick about Sugar Daddy and before I knew it I was scrolling through my phone showing him pictures of us together. He must of been looking at his pictures thinking if that’s her ex I’m defiantly getting pumped tonight. I was lapping up the “You’re far too good for him” chat and before I knew it my agony aunt was inviting me back to his home, which of course I drunkenly accepted and was suddenly en route to Partick.

We entered his home which was immaculate as I completely expected, he had been hinched.  I had a glass of water and my drunk self began questioning how handsome Patrick was. To look at, he was most definitely handsome, he was tall, blonde hair, a good amount of stubble, well dressed and he had a fun personality. It was just his high pitched, annoying, creepy little voice that I hated, there was no way he could get me wet enough to shag, I thought. We both went upstairs and lay in the bed to have a chat. I suddenly became aware of the “accidental” touching of my arm and strokes of my hair. I went as stiff as a board and suddenly realised he has the wrong impression, Why didn’t just pay the thirty quid to get home! I thought.

“I have to sleep now, I’m so tired”. I whispered.

He turned off the light and I shut my eyes. I must have got about twenty minutes’ sleep and I suddenly woke with a vengeance. Oh. My. God! My stomach was in agony. What was going on? I thought. He was sound asleep spooning into me which was adding to the uncontrollable sweating my body was undergoing. I thought about taking off my jeans but I wouldn’t risk him getting the wrong idea, I opted for undoing the top button which only gave a moments relief. I lay there in a growing puddle of boiling sweat with a man I didn’t even know dangling off my side. It will go away, I pleaded with myself. It didn’t. I began scanning my surroundings; I pressed the glass of cold water off my forehead in a desperate bid to cool down. Ok, he has an en suite? That was most definitely not my first choice but it was an emergency option. I was attempting to make my way to his main bathroom still unsure what my body was going to expel or where it would expel it from. I managed to get myself free from his firm marine grasp and gently stood up, I started tiptoeing creepily into the hall with a few creaky floorboards which caused a tremble throughout my entire body but I finally made my way to his bathroom. I paused for a few seconds to make sure the coast was clear.
BOOM! I exploded.

My arse literally exploded all over this random guy’s toilet whilst I pretended to cough loudly to disguise any echoing noise but all I could think of was the sheer sense of relief from my cramping stomach. Thank fuck for that! Not a single sound of movement from his bedroom too, result! I enjoyed my achievement for only a split second before I became aware time was an issue; if he knew I was gone he could come looking. Suddenly, a realisation hit and the sweats came flooding back. There was about three squares of loo roll left and my arse most definitely required a larger quantity. For a split second I even eyed up his towel arrangement, they were only Ikea ones and it’s not as if I planned on seeing him again? After rummaging through his units I opted for making some sort of origami with the remaining toilet roll folding it within an inch of its life and eventually made it back to his bed more satisfied than I had ever planned to be in his home.

Patrick awoke the next morning completely unaware I had vandalised his bathroom during the night and took me home as requested. He was an absolute gentleman but I had most certainly friendzoned him in my mind. There is no way he could whisper sweet nothings in my ear with that over-enthusiastic Santa like voice. He, of course, ended things with a hug and he attempted a cringeworthy lingering stare which I, unfortunately, had to shoot down by acting completely oblivious to it. I turned my back and left his car.

The rest of the day I nursed myself on the couch with a hangover and filled my friends in on yet another dating faupaux. I was on facetime to Brian, my other match, who was planning on returning from Germany in a few days. His voice was most definitely masculine and his sleeve tattoo’s certainly had my juices flowing. Our facetime was suddenly interrupted when I noticed Patrick sent me a what’s app picture with the title,
“Did you leave something in my bathroom?” My heart stopped. I was as pale as I had been the night before, I cut the call with Brian short and braved the chat. I was overly relieved to find it was a handful of Kirby’s which were in the back pocket of my jeans; I began the date with my hair up and gradually removed them all as the night progressed.
“Oh, yeah! I have no idea how they got there!” I replied lying through my teeth. They got there as I was unbuttoning my jeans and throwing them to my ankles like a fucking whippet as I was ready to defecate your floor, Patrick. He didn’t reply to my actual message and I carried on with my lazy day off.

Around eight that night I had an unexpected chap at the door. I hadn’t arranged for anyone to come over and had already received my Chinese delivery an hour before. I peered out the window but never thought for a split second it would be Patrick. I opened the door wearing my Christmas Grinch pj’s, boobs tucked into the waistband with last night’s makeup smeared around my face; or what was left of it after my body unexpectedly had a sweat attack.

“Hey there, stranger!! I thought I would return these.”

Patrick was standing there with that happy fucking voice again. I was speechless. He had traveled over twenty miles to return about nine Kirby’s. There was an obvious tension in the air as his visit was completely unexpected and I was remarkably inarticulate. One thought I could process, however, was that there was no fucking way I was inviting him into my home unexpectedly. I thanked him instead and reiterated it was kind of him to travel all the way here. He commented on how naturally pretty I looked and how he would love to take me out again. I felt so guilty as I couldn’t think of anything worse, especially now. I could smell his Calvin Klein aftershave from inside of my house and it smelt of complete desperation to me. There were lots of silences at the door and it became awkward after the Kirby’s were eventually exchanged. He continued to stand on my step smiling at me like the fucking Cheshire cat, he was staring so intensely I couldn’t make eye contact and began to feel uncomfortable. I made my excuse to leave after about ten minutes of attempting a conversation but promised to text him later that night.

When I lay in bed I sent Patrick the text that no eager man wants to hear. I did think about ghosting him but suddenly became aware of his special marine skills and psychotic home appearance tendencies, which I could completely relate too, but decided to put him out of his misery and allow him to move on. I was also planning to move on myself with Brian and began counting the days till we met in person. The shits had finally dried up and I had a really good feeling about this one! My waxing was booked, the nails were on and I was planning a night to remember! Wish me luck!