We have a calendar here in Flirt Towers. The theory is we write on when one of us is out so we know whether to cook for two or at least do something that it's a natural leftover.
Not that there's anything wrong with late night eggy bread or cheese on toast. Obvs.
The trouble is, we are both a little capricious. Maybe more than a little. Which means said calendar is more a guide to intentions rather than the oracle of truth. Life would be dull otherwise.
Besides, I'm yet to write in it...
I had vague evenings pencilled in (mentally) where I may possibly meet a current flirt, whilst my flatmate had, amazingly, only one possible social event. A quiet week compared to last!
It was never going to last.
In my case, after many emails, I arranged to meet an opera loving, PhD holding, romantic gentleman that's travelled the world. In hers... Well let's just say she finally plucked up the nerve to give her number to a guy she has had a monumental flirty crush on for months. A really silly, reduces-an-intelligent-woman-to-teenage-giggling crush. I'm so glad, I really didn't want to have to do the "my mate really fancies you" routine. I'm 44 not 14, I can't really do that any more. Honest.
Which did mean we had a lovely dynamic last night, she swooning with a gooey far away look in her eyes as texts from The Crush arrived, me alternating between panicking over what to wear and then checking emails. And we giggled. A lot.
Sharing really is fab.
Anyway. None of this was intentional. None of it planned.
Merely leaves of whimsy twisting in the winds of serendipity.
And I still don't know what to wear.
Not that there's anything wrong with late night eggy bread or cheese on toast. Obvs.
The trouble is, we are both a little capricious. Maybe more than a little. Which means said calendar is more a guide to intentions rather than the oracle of truth. Life would be dull otherwise.
Besides, I'm yet to write in it...
I had vague evenings pencilled in (mentally) where I may possibly meet a current flirt, whilst my flatmate had, amazingly, only one possible social event. A quiet week compared to last!
It was never going to last.
In my case, after many emails, I arranged to meet an opera loving, PhD holding, romantic gentleman that's travelled the world. In hers... Well let's just say she finally plucked up the nerve to give her number to a guy she has had a monumental flirty crush on for months. A really silly, reduces-an-intelligent-woman-to-teenage-giggling crush. I'm so glad, I really didn't want to have to do the "my mate really fancies you" routine. I'm 44 not 14, I can't really do that any more. Honest.
Which did mean we had a lovely dynamic last night, she swooning with a gooey far away look in her eyes as texts from The Crush arrived, me alternating between panicking over what to wear and then checking emails. And we giggled. A lot.
Sharing really is fab.
Anyway. None of this was intentional. None of it planned.
Merely leaves of whimsy twisting in the winds of serendipity.
And I still don't know what to wear.
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