A Long and Complicated Story of Parties, Kisses and Misunderstandings: Part Three

Ok, so where was I?

There was almost kisses, then there were drunken kisses, and then there was the first sober kiss.

It happened after the Enchanted evening, the next morning. Faye had left for work in the early hours (9.30am) and Emma and I were left on the sofa. So, we did what all young people of opposite sex do when they were kissing the night before and now find themselves sat on a sofa: We kissed more.

That day, I had arranged to cook steak for Emma, a non-steak lover. It meant that we had more time to kiss, and that they became steak-flavoured at some point. We also shared our first chocolate kiss, after a fairly successful attempt at soufflé.

Anyway, despite the fun that was had that day, it left me a little confused. Did the sober kisses mean she was liking me more, or was it just a bit of fun? The answer was the second, but I didn't find this out till later.

First, there was Emma's birthday.

During the day, we went to see Horton Hears a Who and to all casual observers (which include me) nothing had ever gone on between us the day before. I looked for it too, as a potential ease of the confusion mentioned before.

But nope. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. We watched a (admittedly good) film and went on our merry way to the pub.

It was there, after a drink, that anything began again. It started with a foot under the table, just interlocking with mine. Ever the cautious type, I made sure that I pulled away enough to see that it wasn't an accident. If she move her foot back to mine, I figured, she wanted it there.

She moved her foot back.

We ate and drank and we were merry, all the while playing a very cosy game of footsy under the table.

Towards the end, I took a trip to the little boy's room and upon my return I found that a good percentage of my drink had disappeared. A guilty grin put the blame on Emma. Also, Faye was driving so unlikely to drink cider.

That part would have been edited out but for the fact that it illuminates the conversation that then took place in the car on the journey home.

"I can't believe you drank my cider. That was my cider and I was treasuring it. I had JUST enough to get me till kicking out time and you drank it. You even had your own!"

This was me, sat in the back of the car and moaning. Because I'm a boy, the subtext here was "I can't believe you drank my cider?!"

"I think I've got some drink in my house. You can have some of that."

This was Emma, seemingly offering me some alcoholic drink at her house. But because she is a girl, this meant "You can always come back to mine for some drink...and more kisses!"

But I couldn't, could I. For one, the cautious me wasn't sure whether he was picking up the subtext correctly. It'd just be awkward if the whole thing was said as a joke, and I thought otherwise.

And even if it was a genuine subtextual offer, there was still the matter of Faye. It wasn't like we were deliberately hiding it from her, but telling her that we'd shared a few nights of drunken kisses when we were both quite tipsy certainly wasn't the way I wanted her to find out.

(She actually ended up finding out accidentally, via a lighting mistake on a beach in Poole. This also wasn't the ideal situation either, but at least our intentions were noble.)

So anyway, I laughed it off and that was the end of that. I was gutted of course. I was heading back up to Leeds the next day, and my last chance to spend time with Emma was spent giving her a hug and wishing to do much more than that.

When I got home, she was online.

"I'm sorry I didn't accept your offer for drinks", I typed.

I went on to explain why I couldn't, and she understood. The conversation eventually led to this point. (All sentences have been cleared up from the drunken MSN speak that they originally existed in)

Me: I'm gutted though.
Emma: What do you mean?
Me: Well, every time I go back up to Leeds, you end up confusing me.
Me: At New Years, you almost kissed me after Andy's party.
Me: You kissed me before I went back to Leeds for a week.
Me: But this time, nothing is going to happen.

The next bit, I SWEAR, is what she said.

Emma: You could always walk round mine and I'll confuse you again.

How could I refuse?! After checking that she wasn't kidding, and that she wouldn't fall asleep, I put my shoes back on and I headed round to hers.

It's a 30 minute walk to Emma's house. I did it in just over 15.

In her defence, she actually had drinks made up as she had promised before. So instead of my romantic notions of grabbing her as soon as she opened the door, we sat on her sofa and drank rather strong vodka and coke.

Then we kissed. Then we moved it up to her bedroom. Then, for the first time, I saw Emma naked (with the lights turned off). And now I was definitely confused.

I stayed at hers the whole night, which required staying very quite when her mum was getting ready for work, and left around midday. I travelled back to Leeds and we didn't speak about the events until a few days later.

I asked her where we stood. Did the sober kissing mean that she liked me more? It was here that I found out that no, it didn't, and that she just wanted to be friends. And I got annoyed.

Friends don't kiss each other! Friends don't invite each other for late night "drinks"!

I explained a day later, after examining why I got so annoyed at the whole thing, that she didn't mean "just friends". She still wanted to kiss me (heaven knows why) and didn't regret what had happened in the past. This wasn't "just friends". This was "friends with benefits".

I could do that.

We spoke regularly for the next few months we both had left of uni. The first day we saw each other again was a gorgeous sunny day. We cycled and we ate a picnic. We laid in the grass and discussed clouds.

And all I wanted to do was kiss her. I did, eventually. We were back in the same place we had been back at Easter.

We met more and kissed more. It was all very secretive because we weren't sure what it was so we had no idea how to describe it to anyone.

Then we went on holiday in Poole. We were caught kissing, which was both a rubbish way for friends to find out, but also a huge relief. We could cuddle in public. We weren't hiding anything.

Poole was the first time I ever felt like a couple with Emma.

I got the feeling more and more over the coming weeks. We made a make-shift bed on her living room floor (because her single bed is rubbish). We ate lunch and laid in the park. We were doing all the couple stuff, but without the recognition.

But how could I ask Emma whether things had changed? She'd say no, that this was all fun, and I wouldn't know what to say. Yeah, I'm a wimp. I even started asking the question once, but changed my question halfway in.

But, you know what? Despite the confusion and misadventure of the above story, the whole thing ends simply (some may say anti-climatically).

The final scene takes place in my bedroom. We were cuddling, and talking about life. This whole story came up, and we spoke about the weirdness of it all. Just eight months ago, we'd hardly spoken to each other. Now, we were lying in the same bed, sans clothes.

And I asked the question: "Why aren't we boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Beat.

"That's the boy's job."
"What? To ask if you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Yeah."

And that was how it ended, a casual conversation in a bed, eight months after we first almost kissed.

:D

P.S. - A rather freaky epilogue to this whole affair is this story. For my birthday, Emma bought me a copy of Cosmopolitan as a joke, since I had stated that I enjoyed reading it. In the horoscope section, it said this under Aries:

A friend who confuses you will set a chain of events in motion that will lead to a relationship by August.

This was in the April edition of the magazine, the same month Emma first kissed me. I have stated on several occasions how much she confused me. And the whole thing became a real relationship in August.

Creepy, no?

A Long and Complicated Story of Parties, Kisses and Misunderstandings: Part Two

I first kissed Emma on my sofa, whilst we were both suitably intoxicated. I remember the kiss perfectly, but have no memory of the events leading up to the kiss. I don't think we said anything and that it just sort of happened.

But before I go on to regale you with the events that led from that kiss, we must first go back, to events before it. Back, in fact, to my 21st Birthday Party.

Joe (a name that will only be mentioned this once, since he has no impact on this story), Faye, Emma and I shared a party around the time we were all turning 21. It was mask, wig, and hat themed and good times were had by all. I was over Emma, for the most part, and I barely remember seeing her at the party.

Now, remember when I mentioned Megan and our habit of hooking up whilst drunk? Well, Megan and I hooked up whilst drunk at that party, very much in secret.

About a week later, I've arranged to cook a meal for a bunch of us. Faye and Nixon are there, as is Emma. I cook gammon and we drink wine. We also drink cider and sambuka, so end the meal fairly drunk. And then we decided to go to the pub.

This was the night that I was flirty with Emma again (apparently) which caused her ex, Nixon, to ask if I fancied her, to which I replied "No" because I didn't. That train had passed.

After our pub antics, I was planning on walking Emma home. We both live in a neighbouring town from everybody else. Most of the time someone drives back, but on special occasions it has been known for the two of us to risk the hour walk. Despite my house being closer, I walk Emma to her door because I am a nice boy.

Anyway, we walk and we talk. I don't know what we talk about, for it is lost in drunken mists. But we arrive at my house and stop for a toilet break because, as I've just mentioned, it's closer.

And then we're on my sofa. We don't talk, we just end up kissing. And now we're back at the beginning.

We kiss for about half an hour before we think that it's a good idea to get Emma back to her real home. We kiss more at hers. She even invites me to her bedroom, which tells you all the type of girl Emma really is (The type who got bored of kissing for hours on the sofa).

The whole night ends at seven in the morning, when fear of a mother awakening means that I leave. I stumble home, a stupid smile on my face.

Anyway, the next day I'm back at University. I'd promised Faye and Emma that I'd be back down to celebrate their birthdays though, so my trip is only a week long. During that week, we discuss the kissing online. It is concluded that the whole thing was fun and drunken and not an indicator of secret feelings for each other. Of course, I was sort of lying about the last bit, but she didn't have to know that.

The week ends, and the first port of call when travelling back home is to visit Megan in Portsmouth. I forget the reason, but the plan is to drink and dance the night away.

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't expect to kiss Emma again that night. That became fairly inevitable when she hooked arms with me and dragged me to a cash point. What I CAN say is that at the beginning of the night I had no idea anything else would happen. To me, we'd had a drunken fling and it was over.

But kiss we did, in the middle of the dance floor. Once again, I don't know how it all began. I know that alcohol was involved somewhere down the line, and that we had our hands in each other's back pockets. That is all.

The kissing resumed back at Megan's when we both had a bed made up on the floor, whilst Megan slept and Megan's friend didn't. I feel we still need to apologise to her.

Again, the kissing went on till the early, early hours, but this time we had to face each other the next day. We didn't say much, especially regarding the previous night, but it didn't seem awkward. At least, I didn't THINK it did.

You see, once back at home, I checked facebook to find that Emma had changed her status to 'Emma doesn't know what to think'. "About what?", I thought. Was last night weird for her? Did I do something wrong? Overstep my boundries? A brief MSN conversation did nothing to ease my worries when I was told that we would "talk about it later".

But before later, there was the pub. You see, Nixon was back off to Uni that day, so we were all gathering for his leaving do. I was tired so I don't remember much of the night, except for one thing. Emma completely blanked me.

She was nice to everyone else, to Nixon and to Faye, but she didn't even give me a second glance. I spent the night playing all the reason she could be mad in my head. None of them made sense. How could she be mad now, and not that morning?

When I was home once again, I logged on to get the explanation I was promised. It wasn't to do with the night before at all (So I completely failed when she asked what I thought it was about) but was in regards to post-birthday party kisses with Megan.

For you see, Megan had decided that it wasn't fair that Emma didn't know that stuff had happened between us, so she had told her all. Now I was painted as a serial-kisser, someone who just gets with drunk girls and moves on to their friends.

Except I wasn't. And I explained this is great, drunken detail. I remember bringing up the fact that I didn't kiss Emma earlier in the year out of chivalry. I hadn't changed. I was still that nice boy.

We ended the night on vaguely good terms, but to me it was over. Sure, we'd be friends again, but we were never going to share another kiss. That required trust and I figured that the trust was gone.

It wasn't.

A few days later, Faye, Emma and I were returning from a failed night of clubbing. The place we had been planning on attending was closed, so we returned home for a night of Enchanted instead.

About twenty minutes in, Faye falls asleep. The three of us are under quilts and the two girls were dressed in pajamas. I usually sleep in boxers, so to dress like that would have been inappropriate.

And under this quilt, next to a sleeping Faye (Sorry Faye, but it gets worse) we held hands. Then we played with our hands, tickling palms and the like. This wasn't the biggest action ever, but it meant that there was still trust there.

When the film had finished, we all retired to a spare room to sleep. Faye slept. Me and Emma, not so much. Wrapped in quilts and staying quiet, we kissed until the sun rose.

Now, I want to take this moment to point out a very important fact. Every time kissing had taken place so far in the story, alcohol had been involved. The first night we kissed, cider and wine and shots were coursing through our system. More cider was involved in Portsmouth. Even on our failed clubbing exhibition, we were still tipsy.

I knew where I stood in this regard. Emma wasn't kissing me because she truly liked me that way. She was kissing me out of drunkenness and fun.

But that morning, after Faye left for work, Emma kissed me for the first time sober. And suddenly things were a lot more confusing.

To be continued...

:D

A Long and Complicated Story of Parties, Kisses and Misunderstandings: Part One

This is the story of how I changed my facebook status to "In a relationship with Emma Sansom".

To begin this tale of confusion and secret kisses, I must go right back to the beginning. Not 'of time', but just eleven years ago to the winter of 1997. I was ten. So was Emma. We met, we became boyfriend and girlfriend, we broke up.

I'd love to tell you more, but there is a distinct lack of tales in the few months we were together. Being a couple in those days meant holding hands and dancing slow at the end of discos.

Anyway. We ended up going to the same secondary school, but managed to avoid each other through most of the five years we were there. We even sat together in Maths, and only shared words when I had forgotten my textbook and she was offering hers.

It wasn't like we didn't like each other (Well, it wasn't like I didn't like her), but we hung out with different groups which never intersected.

It wasn't until Sixth Form that we began to nurture a friendship again. There wasn't a big event to signify it. We just started talking again.

We all went away to uni and Emma was one of the few people I kept in touch with when I was home for the summer. That group got smaller over the years, but Emma was never cut. The definition of a friend, if ever I heard one.

But throughout this whole period of re-friendship, there was never really a spark. I knew her, sure, but didn't really know her. I didn't know her favourite colour, or what she liked to listen to. I hadn't even been inside her house. And we certainly had never flirted before.

Until...

New Year 2008 (Where the picture above was taken). We were both at Faye's party, something her family holds every year. In our age-range, it was just Faye, Emma and I for most of the night. Fun was had and alcohol was drunk.

And something was different between me and Emma. We sat and discussed our favourite colours, music, films, etc. We flirted. I don't flirt with people. I'm rubbish at it. But I found myself doing it at this party.

To this day, I don't know the reason. Most of me blames alcohol and part of me thinks it has something to do with me being the only age-appropriate male there. I don't think I'll ever know.

The whole flirting thing culminated in us sat in the same chair. We had been fighting over a party horn, and she had pulled me down onto her. She had taken the horn from my mouth and blown it. I had taken it from her. Then we had a moment.

Those times when you know that you're going to kiss someone. It was one of them. It had just seemed right.

I didn't kiss her.

It may sound like a film cliché, but as we moved to kiss, the door went. We got up and answered it. That was that. The moment was forgotten.

On another day, we discussed the events. Well, after I had reminded her of the events we discussed them. It was the alcohol and it was fun. That was it. End of story.

Except it wasn't the end of the story, it was only the beginning.

The next part comes at another party (You'll find that most of the parts of this story contain alcohol). It was a friend's twenty-first, and many, many people were there. The party itself was fun, despite the lack of drinking.

You see, I was poor at the time, so my only drinks that night were the ones I could beg and borrow from my wonderful, wonderful friends. So I was tipsy, but nowhere near as drunk as I should have been.

I didn't really interact with Emma all that much during the party. We spoke a little. She may have bought me a drink. But for the most part, we hung out with different people.

Which leaves me time to introduce someone else to this story now. Her name is Megan. We used to have a habit of drunkenly kissing at parties. She becomes very important later, but for this party she spent most of the time telling me how she wasn't going to try and kiss me (she did).

Oh, she has a proper boyfriend now, so things work out in the end.

So, the party ends and we make our exit. To my surprise, I'm set upon by two girls. Megan, going quickly back on her drunken promises, takes one hand. Emma, who I haven't seen for a while, takes the other hand.

I'm not the type of boy who usually has one girl, let alone two. I don't really know how to cope. I call "Shotgun!".

Yes, that's right. Instead of sitting between two girls who are drunkenly wanting to cosy up to me, I sit in the front of the car. Yes, I'm an idiot.

Anyhow, we are dropping both Megan and Emma off first. Megan is staying at Emma's, but she wants cheesy chips so we drop them off at a kebab stand near Emma's house. She later goes on to throw those chips up, but that isn't important to the story except to point out how drunk a girl has to be to want to hold my hand.

We get out the car to bid them goodbye. I hug Megan and when she tries to kiss me I remind her of her promise a few hours earlier.

Then, when I'm saying goodbye to Emma, she gives me a kiss on the lips. Just a friendly kiss, mind, but a kiss none-the-less.

Then it wasn't a friendly kiss anymore. It was proper kiss, with tongues and everything. It didn't last long.

I didn't kiss her back.

Now, I've told this story to a few people and this part seems to have the most polar reactions. Some see where I was coming from. This was a drunk girl, and I was bordering on sober. It would've been taking advantage. I didn't want to kiss her like that.

Most people hearing the stories think I'm an idiot. Sure, she was drunk, but she was pretty! What if I never got to kiss her again? I'd have wasted my one chance out of misguided chivilary.

And this is what I was thinking when I arrived home that night. I was an idiot. I should have kissed her. Damn!

But life goes on. The next day I'm heading back to uni, and as I'm packing I recieve a text. I forget the exact words but it said something like "Sorry for making a fool of myself last night."

We kept texting each other as I finished packing, then as I boarded my train. It was a long journey, and Emma became my entertainment.

I discovered that my act of kindness the night before had be misconstrued. She was embaressed because she thought I didn't want to kiss her. This wasn't the case, I told her. I was just trying to be a nice boy and not take advantage.

She did tell me that it isn't taking advantage if a drunk girl wants to kiss you, so I'm bearing that in mind in future.

Anyway, we kept texting when I arrived in Leeds, and through the evening. At midnight, I ran out of free texts, but our conversation continued online. In total, we spoke for 14 hours that day.

For the next month, this became the norm. We spoke everyday, about anything and everything. We passed through the important stuff, like life, love, death and secrets, but also discussed words that we liked, and gossip we had heard. There are so many things that we talked about that I have forgotten now.

And I looked forward to our daily conversations. And, little by little, I developed a crush.

Now, during the course of our talks, I had arranged to come and visit her in Southampton. It was a friendly thing, but in my mind it was more than that. The trip would be where I could find out if she liked me too. In hindsight, perhaps building it up so much was a bad idea.

The full details can be found on a separate post, but let me just say that it didn't go all that well.

In fact, she got drunk and kissed another boy. On a scale of things that you want the girl you have a crush on to do, this is pretty near the bottom.

Speaking about it with her at a later date, I found out that she knew I fancied her and was going to try and gently dissuade me. Then she got drunk and went WAY too far.

But, such is life. You move on, because not moving on is foolish. I did, eventually.

In fact, the day I definitely knew that I was over her was when we were amongst friends at the pub. My friend, and her ex, had noticed that we were being flirty and had asked if I fancied her. It didn't matter if I did, he said.

And I thought about it. And, truthfully, I told him I didn't. My crush was over and I could move on and find other girls. We were still friends, and I guess that was all we were going to be.

That night, I kissed Emma for the first time.

To be continued...

:D

The Game of Drinking

I like getting drunk.

This isn't a new statement, or something you won't find coming out of the mouth of most young people, but I have a degree so somehow my opinion counts more.

I like the tingle of tipsiness, and the skewed off-balance feeling when you stand up without realising just how much you have consumed. It's a game, a new way to look at life.

I'm a good drunk. When I drink, I don't get violent or miserable; I'm your best friend, and loud, and up for crazy misadventures.

I like the stories the day after. The cigarette burns or the failed wooing attempts or that friend who disappeared for half the night.

Alcohol is the spirit of adventure, the lubrication to have an awesome night. Play the game right, and have fun.

Play the game wrong, however...

I don't like feeling sick or being sick. I don't like when the drink catches up with you, and you realise at this point how much you consumed.

I'm a good drunk. When I drink, I know how much to drink most of the time. It's a fine line: lots is fun, loads is sickly. And I never drink alone.

I don't like not having stories to tell the next day; the black holes in your memory that are lost forever.

Alcohol is the devil. It infects your soul, plays your body like a banjo, makes you honest and deceitful and mean and ignorant. Play the game wrong and you spiral into destruction.

Play the game right, however...

[Return to beginning]

:P

http://tinoplex.deviantart.com/art/Drunk-20418403

A 2008 Me

The 2008 me will be a healthier me. He will avoid all that bad fizzy drink and replace it with good healthy water and juicy juice, all the better to make him big and strong.

The 2008 me will not avoid the gym, but embrace it as a way of life. He will run on that running machine and try his hardest not to get bored of the constant put-put-put of jogging. He will lift those weights until they can be lifted no more. Then he will put them down and repeat the process until he or the weights or both are dead.

The 2008 me will find a better way to describe jogging and never use the term 'put-put-put' again.

The 2008 me will enjoy writing itself and not just the act of having written. He will enjoy inhabiting his various characters even if they do annoy him. And he will actively make time to sit and write something, no matter how rubbish, instead of gallivanting around doing everything and anything that isn't writing.

The 2008 me will continue his love for the comma.

The 2008 me will find the courage to speak to more strangers, even if they scare him with their eyes and their knowing looks and their hair with all its hairiness.

The 2008 me will be visiting the cinema a whole lot more, now that he has his very own cinema buddy. She even comes with her own thoughts and opinions on the films, which is a whole lot better than eavesdropping on strangers to see what they think.

The 2008 me probably won't be cutting down on the drink, but will be replacing the more expensive Bulmers with the cheaper alternative of Strongbow. That way, not only can he get the same amount of drunk, he can also buy some sort of sandwich for the journey home.

The 2008 me will try real hard to just not try and understand girls at all and just accept that they are weird and un-understandable. If anyone tries to explain them, he will just put his fingers in his ears and go "La-la-la, I'm not listening!".

The 2008 me will have to attempt to become a real legitimate adult at some point because the 2008 me will be turning 21 soon. This is the universal age for people to stop mucking around with childish thoughts and buckle down, get themselves a mortgage and a real job. The 2008 me will be doing this. Hopefully. Maybe. Probably not.

The 2008 me will make lists of things that he needs to do and not rely on his very sketchy memory to help him remember things.

The 2008 me forgot what this next point was going to be.

Most importantly, the 2008 me will keep this blog running longer than one post. He may even make it to three.

Happy New Year (Only Thirteen days late)

:D